Milk is one of my favorite drinks. I love a tall, ice cold glass of milk anytime of the day. And of course, it's an essential latte ingredient. I drink a lot of milk. When I am an old lady, if I end up with calcium deficiency, it won't be for lack of drinking milk. But, the thing about me and milk is that the milk has to meet certain criteria. First, it has to be ICE cold. Secondly, I prefer skim (1% will do in a pinch), and lastly, it must be pasturized, homogonized, and processed in any and every possible way.
In a round about way, we ended up with some raw milk this week. I won't touch the stuff. I mean, The thought of it squirting, all warm and foamy, into a bucket is enough to keep me away from it. I know, you put it in the fridge and it gets cold like anything else, but then it gets that hard layer of cream on the top. How gross is that? I'm not happy about having to scoop goop off the top of my milk before I can pour a glass. You can readily tell, I'm a city girl. So I did the only respectable thing I could with the milk...I fed it to my kid.
Now my husband, who grew up on a farm, was ecstatic at the prospect of fresh milk. He made a big deal to my son about the fact that this would be the best milk he'd ever had and how it would even be better as chocolate milk. He talked it up as he retrieved the Nestle's Quick and the sugar bowl (yes, he always adds extra sugar...crazy, I know, but he insists that's the way to make proper chocolate milk)
He made a big glass of chocolate milk for my son and as he did, my son got more and more exctited, like a kid waiting for Christmas morning. As my husband sat the glass down on the table, my son could not contain his enthusiasm any longer and jumped up and exclaimed, "Wow! I've never had milk from a cow before."