Yogurt is a constant presence in my existence. It is not though the type of presence that is always at the forefront; or the type of subtle but critical presence where you only notice when it is missing. No, I could easily endure weeks without yogurt if necessary. But it is not necessary: yogurt simply is always there.
A lazy way of putting things would be to say yogurt is in my blood. It is perhaps a reflection of my Turkishness, as if the culinary proclivities of generations of Turks before me echo in my blood (and my dietary tract), like the similarly constant presence of tea in my daily diet, or the feeling of world realigning to its proper order when aubergines are in season. Indeed the English word yogurt comes from the Turkish, not as a borrowed word or pass-through but from the old Turkish of the Central Asian steppes. Some Taiwanese claim that they invented shaved ice; I would not be quite so bold as to make such a claim of Turks and yogurt.
I eat plain yogurt. As a child I would eat flavored yogurts but as my palate and mind matured I found the perfection in the austere simplicity of plain yogurt. The allure of plain yogurt is perplexing at times as I would not say yogurt tastes good nor have I ever craved yogurt. Sometimes I think of clear, cold, wind-swept mornings on the open plains when I eat yogurt. There is a raw and realness to yogurt even in its mass-produced form. It invites and welcomes the most natural part of you, that part with the strongest connection to the earth.
I prefer my yogurt to have substance: the watery raita does not pass muster in my estimation. A good yogurt is stiff enough to stand without drooping unduly while its texture is smooth and creamy, like milk clouds, or pillows. There is acidity but it is an ever present back note complementing the yogurt rather than pushing to the front of your taste consciousness. I enjoy the more acid yogurts as well but the perfect yogurt should have its acidity muted but apparent.
Making your own yogurt is deeply satisfying for it hearkens back through the epochs of history, a simple recipe repeated endlessly over thousands of years. It is not economical: the amount of yogurt you produce is not so great as to justify the cost of the ingredients. It’s also time-consuming. Of course, most of the time is spent waiting and most of the waiting is spent sleeping but it yet requires patience. Nevertheless there is true culinary alchemy when making your own yogurt. I still get a slight thrill of triumph when I find the yogurt has “held,” to use a literal translation from the Turkish. It is magical.
To make yogurt you need yogurt. And milk. But yes yogurt is required as it has the active enzymes necessary to catalyze a like transformation in milk. The following is a recipe I cherish because it has no scientific guidance whatsoever. This is the way my mom taught me to make yogurt and I will never need another recipe. This one works and it’s easy to remember and its complete lack of numbers and direction is charming, yes, and also pure.
You will need a pot, milk, and yogurt. You may want to get some cheesecloth later for straining. I don’t know if the pot can be metal. You may want to google that. Use whole milk. It tastes better and gives a better end consistency. The second part is actually just a guess because I’ve only used whole milk when making yogurt. There is a scientific argument to be made that low-fat milk would result in a better consistency because of more milk solids. It is of no consequence to me. The yogurt can be low-fat and possibly even non-fat. You’re just using a heaping spoonful so the primary vector of fat and consistency and taste will be the milk.
Pour yourself a tall glass of milk out of a half-gallon and then heat the rest up in your pot on medium heat until a boil happens. You don’t want a rolling boil (too much risk of it blowing out of the pot) but wait a good few minutes beyond when the bubbles start breaking the surface and maintain this state for as long as possible. You don’t have to skim the milk skin off the top but I usually do. It’s certainly edible and under certain circumstances one may consider it to taste good or at least interesting.
After the milk maintains the light boil for several minutes, turn off the heat. Now you’re going to wait and let the milk cool down. You want to get it to the point where you can insert your finger and it’s no longer too scalding to be uncomfortable but it’s also not quite cool enough to be comfortable. Basically, it’s the transition point between hot and warm. That takes about 20-25 minutes or so depending on the heat retention of your pot. About five minutes before that point, take that heaping spoonful of yogurt and temper it with the hot/warm milk. When you’re done cooling the milk, combine the slurry back into the main pot.
It’s helpful if your oven is warmish. I usually make yogurt on days I’m also using the oven for some other reason. It shouldn’t be hot so wait a couple hours after last using it but the idea is to avoid a frigid oven. Make sure the pot is tightly covered and wrap the whole thing in a bunch of towels and place in the oven. This is the moment of doubt where you wonder is this magic potion really going to work? How can this possibly work?
Wait overnight. Sleep is a good option. In the morning, you will have yogurt. Put a spoon in to get a sense of the texture and glory in your accomplishments when you realize you have created yogurt from milk. This yogurt will be runnier but still with solid resistance and substance. It’s a good workmanlike texture: ideal for parfaits or granola. I like mine thicker so I use cheesecloth to strain the yogurt (after chilling it). Keep checking in on it a few days to get it to the texture and taste you prefer.
Use this yogurt for, you know, whatever you would use regular yogurt for. Just expect that whatever to be so much better. I mix mine with granola; or blend with a bit of honey; and most often consume straight. Make cacik, a refreshing summer dish with yogurt, chopped cucumber, garlic, and olive oil. Or try ayran, yogurt turned into a beverage by mixing with water and salt. A lassi can be in your future. You can also look forward to being more regular, a nice gastrointestinal benefit to yogurt.
If you wish to be more scientific with timings and volumes and temperatures, Harold McGee’s succinct write-up is a good guide. You will have more control over your yogurt’s final state albeit without the improvisation and magic. There is a cold precision to that, a sense of mitigating risk and striving for consistent results within acceptable parameters. But there is no joy, no sense of casting a culinary spell, no connection to your ancestors, and no exploration of the possibilities of yogurt. For even within such a standard and simple sustenance as yogurt there is ample opportunity for sublimity.
