In Praise of Farm Fresh Milk

Photo © Rob Jones

I like forraging. Probably because it feels really immediate. It’s very often hand-to-mouth, literally.

Equally, growing up, there was something nice about watching the cows heading obediently into the milking parlour, and listening to the ‘chu-koo-chu-koo-chu-koo’ of the milking machines relieving them of their milk. This was still in the days when the results were put into metal churns and left outside the farm to be collected by the dairy. Seems almost impossible to imagine nowadays.

Today it feels like a soulless industry. Cows get milked. The refrigerated tanker takes it off to be processed. It gets separated into cream and skimmed milk using a centrifuge. Then it gets heated to kill off bacteria. Some is pasteurised to make UHT milk. It’s homogenized to create a uniform texture. It’s standardised by adjusting the fat content up or down. Then the milk is packaged into cartons, bottles or pouches before heading off to the supermarket.

Or….

Go to the local farm. Stick your reusable bottle into the machine where it’s cleaned with a jet of steam, before being filled up with glorious fresh milk that tastes like milk used to taste.

At least I have the pleasure of remembering what it was like. How many people today would?

The only thing is - how do they get the cow into the machine?

R