In spite of the obvious[to me]-bitter-taste-and-funky-aftertaste, Corey liked the stroganoff! (I didn't tell him I used spoiled milk, and tried to cover the bitterness with onions, green bell peppers, and cajun spices.) All in all, I'm grateful I have such a low-maintenance husband who will eat pretty much anything I put on the table (and that Cajun never makes a fuss, even when it's blander than bland).
I haven't disturbed the stroganoff leftovers which are, hopefully, molding in the fridge (along with a few other things we didn't get around to eating before they were past their prime. Although, in my opinion, the stroganoff was past its prime the moment I decided to use the rotten milk...). It's a trick we've learned well: if you're not too hot about a food item, just leave it in the fridge (or "forget about it") long enough for it to sprout stuff, and then you are perfectly justified in tossing the spoils. It eases both of our consciences. Somewhat.
Unfortunately, though, sometimes the It's Moldy! Where's the Trash? excuse doesn't work. We are the current owners of two butternut squash that have been sitting there for three months, and no sign of fuzzies or unnatural sprouts.
Then again, maybe it's just a chance for me to practice my patience.