Raw Milk

Gerald Warden stands at least 6 foot, two inches tall.  Maybe even taller.  His insulated one piece coveralls were unzipped down to his waist the last time I saw him in the tiny Freedom post office.  Suspenders held up the hidden pants underneath and provided more vertical extension to his lofty frame.  His muck boots propped up the bottom of the unzipped insulated legs, the boots covered in muck.  

Gerald is somewhat of what I'd call a hayseed-type of guy.  This day, he was a good two days since shaven, allowing one to ponder that it had been that long since he had bathed as his black mop of hair looked as greasy as the lenses in his thick, much-scratched glasses.  Gerald is always smiling and always talking.  He will talk to you for hours if you give him the time. 

Gerald milks cows.  The black and white cows, lumbering in for their morning milking, teats swollen, milk sacks hanging full.  This last week in August had been rainy all week and the girls lumbered in to the milk house through mud, sinking up to the first joint of their legs.  

Milking cows is not easy work.  It may been deemed one of the most difficult ways to make a living, if one leaves out coal mining and picking cotton.  There are no sick days, no vacation days, no days off.  When a cow needs milked, she needs milked every day and she is on a schedule.

Gerald sells his milk to a local farmer's market.  Raw milk has beneficial qualities, good bacteria and a delicious taste, unlike any store bought milk.  The glass jar filled with the lovely white liquid sports a lofty head of cream.  If you are careful when you open and pour that first couple of cups, you will enjoy the fatty deliciousness of fresh cream.  

Unfortunatley, Gerald had a batch of milk that was contaminated with the bacteria E. coli that week of late August.  He, and the many other dairy farmers in Star Valley Wyoming, rarely tested their milk.  The facts are unknown to me other than Gerald's milk made some children and an adult very ill.  Some of the children spent days in the hospital.  All survived. 

But Gerald's contaminated milk has made all of us who are part of a community providing farm products for others to enjoy to take pause and contemplate our risks we take selling to the community. 

Mike and I love raw milk.  We buy from a farm south of our place, about a 15 mile drive along the Salt River, by the turn near the stinking springs, through a pastoral countryside that makes you want to whistle a measure of two of Beethoven's Sixth Symphony (the Pastoral Symphany).  One turns into the dairy farm to drive up to a muddy corral with grand Jersey cows, muching away, filling their milk bags for tomorrow's milking.  At the end of the graveled potholed drive, sits the milk house.  Open the door to the smell of chlorox.  This is what sold me on her milk.  This and the delicious liquid filling the clear glass jars.  A half gallon glass jar filled with whole, raw milk costs $2.  The milk lady happily takes Venmo.  Please return your jars.  We take the risk and enjoy a gallon a week of fresh, raw milk. 

People like Gerald are protected under the Wyoming Free Food Act, but rumor is, Gerald is getting sued.  There are plenty of litigious lawyers sitting in Jackson Hole Wyoming just tapping their fingers on their solid walnut desks waiting for something to do.  It has un-nerved an entire community of dairy farmers, cheese makers, bread bakers, soup creaters, and others who contribute their talent and time to build quality products for those willing to pay a bit more for something local, something real. 

Last year, I baked a myriad of sour dough bread, rolled balls of sour pizza dough, simmered pots of glorious fruit jams, fermented jars of delicious sauerkraut, and picked parsley leaves off of stems to make fresh chimichuri, all of which customers bought up in minutes.  Most of my offerings were sold out within a half hour of being posted online.  As a provider, this was very rewarding and satisfying to be, well, so popular!  People complained there should be a limit to how many loaves others could buy of my bread so more could enjoy the crusty loaves of sourdough.  My little home creations brought in over $7K last year, which helps pay for the ingredients and some fun things. 

But now, I take pause.  Gerald is a warning call for the rest of us to hear.  There are rules and I am a rule-follower.  Even with rules, things can go bad quickly when dealing with a potentially pretentious and often entitled clientele.   

As 2024 launches, I have some decisions to make.