Homemade Sour Cream

I grew up thinking the whole world drank Clover milk from surrounding dairies. The first time I saw another label I declared it false and went without rather than drink it. I've always been settled in my ways. And I've always loved milk.

Now that I've learned to make sour cream and its kissing cousin, creme fraiche, I adore it more. I say learned loosely, as if making soured milk requires detailed instruction, talent, as if the making requires study; it doesn't. And yet as simple as these recipes are, these simple foods have been a mystery. I didn't know sour cream was possible without buying it in a plastic tub. And creme fraiche, well, I believed it would never be possible at home. I was mistaken.

Sour cream is better made fresh. At least mine was.

Four Parts Cream
One Part Buttermilk

Stir them together and place covered in a warm spot for 24 hours. I put the bowl in the oven, kept the light on. A comforting thought through the night.

I used most of the sour cream for a holiday rabbit and the remainder, that precious remainder, went to a silkened carrot soup. Then I licked the bowl.

The creme fraiche was as easy with ten thousand ways to make it online. It was art drizzled on the top of soup, an excuse to play with my food. And to have more.

As much as I appreciate milk and the elementary ways it can be transformed, sometimes it still goes sour. But I have a new recipe for that too. I learned it from a farmer. "Dilute the milk," the farmer said, "and pour it on the garden."

I can't believe I haven't done it before. It makes sense. Right? All that calcium. Given the amount of milk I loose it's not going to make a significant difference to the soil but it feels better than pouring even the smallest cup down the drain.

Especially when I love it so.