I could drink a case of you, Raw Milk

     It's kind of a weird day. I think it started because the full moon woke me up in the middle of the night, shining upon me like a celestial spotlight as I slept in my bed across from the window. It's like someone saw me there, snoozing away, and silently whispered, "Aaaaand...action." My performance amounted to rapid blinking while trying to figure out if it was already noon, and then rolling over.
     When it was actually morning, I awoke to an uncharacteristically cool gray rain. Ah, an oatmeal day. I was excited because I had been reading about lots of exciting variations on oatmeal recipes and thought this would be the perfect day to try one out. What could be better than a chilly morning with steel cut oats bubbling in a steaming pot? As I was stirring my creation, I glanced out the window into the...very sunny day. The weather had stymied me. Though my attempt at coziness had been thwarted, I couldn't back out of my oats now. It takes a minor amount of dedication to make steel cut oats as they require stovetop attendance and a good 15 minutes, but their inevitably better taste and nutty crunch make up for it. I loaded a generous heap of honey, flax seeds, and dried blueberries into my bowl and poured myself a nice glass of raw milk.

Steel cut oats, dried blueberries, raw honey, flaxseed

     If you've never had raw milk, I'm about to launch into a slurry of facts and a flowery description for you. If you have had it, read along and nod your head knowingly. Raw milk is milk that has not been pasteurized (heated to kill bad bacteria - but also good bacteria and helpful enzymes) and has not been homogenized (the thing they do to make it so that the cream doesn't naturally rise to the top). There are lots of internet articles out there that will tell you that drinking raw milk will make you sick and various state laws limit the sale of raw milk to the public. I'm lucky enough that I have several places where I can buy raw milk in my neck of the woods to see for myself. The general idea is that by law the farmer can sell directly to the consumer, but not through another retail entity. I suppose this keeps the consumer more closely linked to the farm itself, and able to get information to and from the farmer if need be. What this usually means is that the milk can be sold through such avenues as farmer's markets and co-ops. The best website I've found in giving good, positive information on raw milk is www.raw-milk-facts.com - I would re-quote what they have to say on the health benefits and the controversy, but really, just read it all there. Fun fact: it was once referred to as "white blood" due to its intensely nutritious and presumable healing properties. Decide for yourself - only you and your body can know what is right.
      The experience of raw milk is so far from your grocery store variety. Raw milk is easily a main player of a meal, snack, smoothie, whathaveyou. It is rich (especially the kind I get from Jersey cows), smooth, and has its own sweetness. Because it is a full-fat milk, it it not only satisfying in itself, but those fats biologically help the drinker absorb the vitamins present as well. Drinking this milk is almost a spiritual action - for me, I found that it could calm my nerves on a particularly trying day and satisfy a stomach that was calling out for snacks of less merit. The way that I can best describe it is that it is like drinking a subtly flavored liquid ice cream. I love it, and I love that my particular brand supports a local, organic, pasture-raised dairy farm in my area. The farm that provides my raw milk actually does more testing than is required by state laws, and they drink gallons of the own milk from every batch, not only to assure their customers' safety, but because they love it, too! Nothing is better than a cold glass of this powerfully awesome milk.
     Which is why I was so disappointed when my glass smelled a little off. Not full-fledged sour milk, just not up to par. I still technically had two days before the expiration date, but am I going to use that argument with a gurgling stomach in a few hours? Sigh, down the drain. While I was sadly pouring my milk into the sink, my oatmeal was patiently waiting on the coffee table, cooling down as I refilled my glass with water. When I came back in the room to greet it, my dog was looking at me with that look.
     Dogs can't lie. If you own a dog, you already know this. If you don't, just know that you don't even have to question the dog. "What are you up to?" is not necessary. You just pleasantly look around the room and meet up with Incredibly Guilty Dog Face. This involves the ears flattened against the head, nose pointed downward, eyes venturing a glance at you, and the general assumption that the dog would
A) like to become spontaneously invisible or
B) have you become spontaneously invisible so that he / she can continue the unsolicited activity.
In this case, it was obvious that the unsolicited activity had been sampling my oatmeal, as evidenced by the bits of oat and flax seeds stuck to my dog's face. I would have been more angry, but the bits were on the most adorable parts of her face - one on her nose, and one amazingly by her eye. It's also difficult to get mad when you're also turning the moment into an unintended compliment in your head (I know, that combination of oats, honey, flax, and blueberries I thought up is just soooo good. Have some more.) For the rest of the time I was eating my oatmeal, my dog continued to whine and gripe and slap her paw on my leg until I banished her to her crate. Then she pouted. Then I let her lick the empty bowl. Then she slept her victory nap.

Victory nap

     The other weird part of the day is that my gardens seem to have despaired while I've been away for a few days. The peas are all folded over on themselves, sure that I would never return, and the weeds have taken up a threatening presence in what had been a calm neighborhood. Now that it's sunny anyway, I might as well go straighten things up out there while my dog pilfers the refrigerator for leftovers. Exactly the kind of day for which one could use a nice tall glass of raw milk.