Our produce share for the week. Such bounty and color at this point in the season - it's beautiful. And so bittersweet, too, as I know it's a sign of the end. Among our greens and oranges and reds - in the center - is some raw milk. Ezra, in particular, is a fan of the idea of raw milk, as much as I'm in love with the idea of knowing the name of the cow from which our milk comes. This milk comes from Dulsie, the Mama cow we see each week. We talk a lot on the ride to and fro the farm about Dulsie and the milk she gives. And all the many things that her milk becomes.
We got some instructions from the farm, but checked here online too. Really, though, it was pretty simple - skim the cream off the top, shake (a lot), drain, shake (a lot more), rinse, form into a shape. So simple that I've been wondering all day how it is that I've made it 30 years in this life without making my own butter. I'm so glad we did so today.
Once we started and I knew how much Ezra was loving the whole thing, I realized we needed something really special to put this butter upon. So out to our blueberry bushes we went, and returned in to the kitchen for some blueberry muffin making.
So good. So very, very good. So good that it prompted one of my near-daily visits to the real estate websites to search for Maine farms for sale (I can't help myself). Nothing quite right for us, though - not yet, anyway. And so, for the time being, I'll gladly take our local milk when we can get it, make it into whatever my little ones prefer (yogurt next?), and treasure the whole thing. And of course, give our thanks to Dulsie, the cow.