A Glass of Milk

In case you stay up at night, tossing and turning and wondering how I came up with the name of this here blog, fear not, I am about to answer all your questions.

I love milk.

I have since I was a kid.  My parents made me drink it with dinner and it was love at first sip, and a habit that stuck.  I used to drink about 3-4 glasses a day.  I’ve since cut back, but only a little.

I do not have a sophisticated palate, but there are a few foods I consume with enough regularity to taste subtle differences in flavor.  Homemade macaroni and cheese is one.  No dry mustard or nutmeg for me, thankyouverymuch, I like it pure.  And when my husband brought home organic milk for me the other day, I boldly claimed it tasted like a farm.

While visiting Grandma Glass of Milk yesterday, she showed me an article in this week’s Washington Post Food section.  The author has since made some more milk-related comments here.  I think I’m a little closer to understanding how some foodies feel about artisan olive oils and French sea salts now.  I’ve discovered the wonderful world of milk from mid-sized dairies.

On the walk home from Grandma’s, we stopped at Whole Foods to pick up some Snowville Creamery skim.  My verdict?  Much creamier than a regular grocery brand.  My husband’s?  Couldn’t taste a difference.

There you have it, America.

3 thoughts on “A Glass of Milk

  1. we used to make ice cream from cream skimmed off the top of some giant vat of milk at the farm down the road. it did not taste like farm.

  2. Pingback: Happy Birthday to Me « a glass of milk

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