“Mommy, I gave the dog your special milk.” My eldest son confessed.
“What special milk, dear?” I asked. I didn’t have any special milk.
“This special milk,” he said, running to the refrigerator and pulling out a quart of organic cultured buttermilk. I took the carton from him. It had been unopened the night before; now it was empty.
As much as I love my son, he has the most annoying habit of getting into things he shouldn’t. Particularly in the wee hours of the morning when the sun has not yet risen.
I had everything ready to make buttermilk for y’all.
Now you get to wait another week or so, until I have the chance to go buy some more decent buttermilk to use as a starter.