Goat Rising: Got RAW milk? – June 12, 2011

No, the animals do not always have to feed me; sometimes I feed them. Nor do I feed them with the ulterior motive of being fed in return at some point in the not-too-distant future. No, sometimes I do feed them – here, the baby goats - simply because they are adorable. I admit, however, “adorable” is an adjective that is seldom used in my vocabulary in describing something with four feet.

After making my invaluable - as in impossibly to add value - contribution in the goat shed by not only feeding the baby goats but also by being eaten by the older goats (I took it as a compliment that they mistook my wayward hair for the fragrant hay) and being jumped on by the extrovert shepherd dog, who most definitely wanted my attention on top of that of the motley crew, I left with a dozen of freshly laid mega-sized duck eggs, a jar of fresh raw milk and a thorough selection of the available cheese (one each).

Raw milk is a newly discovered obsession of mine. It cannot be, or should be, compared to the store-bought thin, white water, which is not even a convincing mimicry of the real thing. As a matter of fact, it is a sacrilege to even draw any similarities between the two. Tasting raw milk is like tasting wine: the ingredient, the environment and the method all contribute to the final product. On the sacred ground of Goat Rising, no black-and-white Holstein* on steroids with big boobs had ever set foot; there are only the brown Jersey cows, coyly named Jersey Maid (their brand), on their farm.

*There seems to be an older breed of Holstein – before the biologically engineered plastic Holstein, bred for the torrential quantity of milk, but not quality – that is capable of producing good milk. But I have not tried it yet.

Goats rising, definitely

When you pour out the raw milk, be aware of the first couple of inches: it would cause such an intense rapture that would make an avid convert out of you. The top pour of the Jersey Maid milk was an exquisite blend of cream and milk, whose taste was naturally sweet and luxurious and whose velvety consistency would send shivers down your spine. The lingering fragrance deserves to be called fiori di latte – Italian for “flower of milk” – although the term is generally used to differentiate real mozzarella made of buffalo’s milk from the cow version and, of course, as a gelato flavor.

The duck eggs, hand-picked by Mr. Miller straight out of the duck coop, were extraordinary, not only for their sheer gargantuan size, but also for the fresh and clean taste. The firm egg whites were so elastic and strong that they almost refused to leave the shells; the bright yellow yolks were so round and supple that they rose high enough to touch the lid of my frying pan when I was making sunny-sideups. Enjoy with a light shake of salt and pepper; they would make you a very happy person.

Goat Rising
Address: 8 Mountain Road, Charlemont, MA 01339
Phone: (413) 339-8500 
Website: http://www.goatrising.com/index.html