Our Adventure With Raw Milk

We've learned a lot about raw (unpasteurized) milk.  It is very tasty.  It makes wonderful buttermilk.  It doesn't hurt my stomach.  I can't drink it because it give me moose-gas while I sleep.

In the picture, above, Jackie shows her undivertable interest in some whole-wheat buttermilk pancakes we made.  The pancakes were good, and the dogs will concur.

We also discovered that the cod we bought in a doubtful moment (we are ashamed to admit that we can't cook fish) went from dreadful baked to wonderful fried in deep oil, after a dip in buttermilk and Frying Magic.  The irony, of course, is that the more unhealthy the cooking method, the better the flavor.

Finally, I found a buttermilk salad dressing recipe.  I used it on a cobbled-up slaw made from bok choy, radishes, chopped onion, sliced carrot and fresh parsley.  It was very darned good.  The bok choy was a refreshing, light alternative to green cabbage, and the great clump I made fed me for a week, Michele not sharing because she is not a cabbage/radish/onion person.

And that is that.  We'll forego the raw milk and we'll embrace the benefits of including buttermilk in our cooking.

By the way, there are two kinds of buttermilk.  The very old kind is awful, being the thin liquid that is left after churning cream into butter.  The vastly better, tangy, tasty, alluring kind is made by adding a culture to whole milk.  The process is similar to yogurt and sour cream.  Cultured buttermilk is yummy.  Cultured buttermilk from raw milk is incredible...if you can digest it.

Yes, yes, Michele encouraged me to take lactaid.  Me bowels laughed with great, gaseous flatulence at the stuff.