“I didn’t start drinking raw (unpasteurised) milk and feeding it to my kids as an act of civil disobedience. We moved to the country. We started a garden and raised chickens. We bought a Jersey cow named Jezebel because it seemed like the sort of thing you did chasing the bucolic dream.
Just like all the many nonagenarian dairy farmers in my family tree had done – and just like the Queen of England reportedly still does – we drank raw milk. It tasted great. Getting Jezebel in to milk was always interesting: my head nestled into her flank; the “squirt squirt” of milk in pail; flicking out the odd fly or fleck of who-knew-what in the milk; cursing her when she kicked the bucket. Continue reading