When I was little I used to have a small obsession with cream. Maybe because it was only meant for my mother’s coffee or that it came in a smaller box, or because I wasn’t supposed to have it. But I had a secret ritual. I used to climb on top of the counter and get one of my dad’s shot glasses from his small collection on the shelf and pour a tiny shot of half and half or full cream if we had it, and take tiny little sips crouched on the counter reveling in my surreptitious moment.
Although I have never been much of a milk drinker since, in fact in times I have been quite intolerant, there still remained a mysterious intrigue for this cup of mystery. As an adult I always wanted to taste whole- real milk, freshly farmed from the cow (I know big dreams right?) and one day I found a way to do it. It is actually illegal to sell unpasterized or “Raw” milk in NC so you have to purchase it from SC farms. I heard about a milk truck that meets in a parking lot in SC every other Wednesday for different food co-ops etc… so I emailed the place and put in my order. : 2 gallons of whole milk. I drove there early on my fateful day and waited in the parking lot. Since raw milk can't be sold in NC , meeting in the secret parking lot to get my treat made this special. A big truck pulled up and the milk delivery began. I stood in line got my gallons and went home. Did you know that fresh milk usually lasts about 5 weeks? The whole drive I pondered pulling over and taking a sip right out of the container- this was my dream realized you know. But I wanted to wait. I wanted to see it pour in that cup and drink it right.
I got home and poured the tallest glass of milk. It was an off-white color and plumped out like thick slow-moving deliciousness. I drank the whole glass enjoying the first several sips. It was a dream. But soon after my assignation, I was feeling sick. I didn’t know when milk is fresh you have to shake it or else you are drinking STRAIGHT CREAM. Which I had just guzzled a glass of the richest cream ever. The sickness continued and my desire for milk decreased intensely. That was the end of the affair right then and there. I couldn’t even handle looking at it after a few more days. However, occasionally I still want a tall, shaken glass of farm-fresh milk.
This might be the weirdest thing you’ve ever read, or you might want to go pour yourself a glass of milk!
Cheers to milk.