The days of the scenic and unique mixed farm are gone. No one ceptin’ robotic corporations with oodles of cash even deal in milk. Robots even do the milking. Soon it will be the last time in North America a human hand even touches a warm bovine teat. An era will have passed – as so many nostalgic agricultural eras before it.
There was a time when raw town and city kids didn’t get milk. Oh, they got milk all right. They just didn’t understand milk. Some kind of chemically overloaded molecularly bashed up composition of part mammary juice, part unknown imported fish juice, and unknown white grain flour. But that stuff isn’t milk. It’s a pathetic imitation of milk. But the lobbyists down in capital cities pour money into advertiser’s, politician’s, and educator’s purses alike to have the poor naive consumer think it’s milk. Even school kids are led to believe the stuff is God’s gift to nutrition and you get it in a store. This disconnect is a wide as the sneakers to child labor one.
Milk comes directly from a cow. You put a pail under the cow and skillfully manipulate the udders extensions to squirt it in a pail. After there seems to be no more, you take the pail somewhere and let it sit. After awhile you find some willing young child slave or do the next step yourself. This involves using a spoon or similar item to skim off the thicker stuff on top. That stuff is called cream. The oil in it makes it rise. You can do all kinds of neat things with cream, like make whipped cream, butter, or cheese. But what’s left over is called skim milk. It has a subtle tinge of blue to it. It tastes real, not like that fancy named homo-whatever stuff that comes in waxed cardboard boxes that can never be opened so as they don’t spill.