I haven't eaten in a fast food restaurant since 1981. I know, I'm some sort of freak. Growing up, fast food didn't exist. Sure, we had A&W, but that was with carhops. It was a drive-in, not a drive through. Because of my diligent avoidance of fast food, my cholesterol is fine, as is my blood sugar. I want to keep it that way!
I rediscovered raw milk. I dropped into Berekley Bowl and picked up a glass bottle of whole, raw milk. I popped the top as soon as I got in the car. It tasted just like I remember real milk. It was rich, smooth and cold. I could almost taste the grass. It brought memories flooding back. When I was a kid, we lived on a farm in Wisconsin for a year. We weren't farmers, but the neighbors certainly were. I would go to the Scalzo's barn at evening milking with my dad and fill our gallon jar with fresh, warm, wholesome milk. Resting in the refrigerator overnight, the cream would rise to the top. Mom would skim the cream with her turkey baster, leaving some to be shaken in to the milk. We had to shake the jar every time before pouring. Real milk; there's nothing like it.
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