Milk. It’s supposed to be the secret to strong bones. At least that’s what parents told their children and what the lunch ladies reminded students as they slid the little cartons across cafeteria tables. I was never much of a milk drinker, but I did want strong bones. Besides, there was something fun about milk mustaches and blowing bubbles until the cartons overflowed.
When my four children were growing up, there were always at least two gallons of milk in the refrigerator. No grocery trip was complete without bringing home another gallon. For years, milk was as much a household staple as bread or eggs.
Then one day, it happened.
Only a little milk remained in the bottom of the jug, and it was taking up precious refrigerator space. I poured myself a glass, took a big gulp, and instantly spit it out. Spoiled milk. UGH!Easily one of the most disgusting tastes imaginable. It hadn’t reached the chunky stage yet, but it had turned unmistakably sour. Blech. I spewed it into the sink and rinsed my mouth for what seemed like forever, trying to get rid that unforgettable taste.
To this day, I can’t drink a plain glass of milk. I’ll use it in cereal or coffee, and chocolate milk is still a treat, but straight milk? Absolutely not. And I always smell the milk before I use it.
Just the other morning, while making my first cup of coffee, I pulled out the half gallon of milk. (The days of buying milk by the gallon are long gone). Out of habit, I gave it the usual sniff test. After our weekend in Chicago, it had soured.
No milk for my coffee.
Thankfully, there was just enough Half & Half waiting in the refrigerator to save the morning.
I quit drinking milk as a teenager, I use a little for cooking, and heavy cream for cooking.
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