I love yogurt. I even remember when I first tasted it. I was 16 years old and working in a small store and I had forgotten my dinner. I went to the market next door to try and scare up something to eat and the clerk told me to try yogurt. It was new and strange and I loved it immediately. Fast forward some ....years later and I am buying yogurt for my family. School lunches, breakfast; we all eat yogurt. Well, my daughter sent me a link about what not to eat and our yogurt was on the list. I never stopped to look at the label and see all of the sugar it contained; pretty stupid, I admit. No wonder we loved it. Then I discovered Greek yogurt, my new favorite. I'd been seeing recipes and posts about homemade yogurt for the last few years so today I tried making my own. I don't know if I will ever buy yogurt again. I love that it cost just a fraction of what I pay for it in the market and it was so easy and quick. I don't know if I will ever buy yogurt again.
Hmmm....homemade yogurt with just a drizzle of honey; just the amount that I want. The yogurt has no added sugar so it can be sweetened to your taste while you eat it.
There are a lot of recipes for making your own yogurt. Here's the link I liked best and the one I used as my guide.
I love the 6 oz. jars that came with my yogurt maker. The lids have a movable top so that you can set your expiration date. So handy.
I knit, garden, bake, and sew. I create something every day, even if it's just a mess in my kitchen.
“I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails. I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbors children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden. I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived.” ― Marjorie Pay Hinckley