Milk Capital of the World

He drinks milk.

"All kinds!" he tells me enthusiastically. "I love all kinds of milk. Give me your cow! All the percentages of cow! Your soy! Your almond! Your coconut! Your rice! I like it all!" And he wasn't kidding. It's all true. He drinks milk.

I found out about it the first time I made dinner for him. A seemingly banal question yielded quite the unexpected response:

Me (looking into the refrigerator and yelling from the kitchen into the
living room):  
What do you want to drink?

Him (not yelling, because, as it turns out, he was actually in the kitchen):
Do you have any milk?

Milk...milk...milk. My eyebrows raised. My eyes squinted. I cocked my head to the side.

Me (turning to look at him, confirming politely that I heard him correctly):
Milk?

Him (a bit sheepish, but, indeed, completely serious):
Milk. Any kind will do.

The answer was yes. Yes, I had milk. But I was confused. I think my reply was something like this: Like, to drink? You want a drink of milk?

And, of course, you know the rest. Of course he did. He drinks milk!

Now, to clarify, cow milk is his favorite, but he will indeed drink all varieties very happily. He is a living, breathing milk council ad. The dairy industry should be paying him at this point. They should really know how much he's done for the milk business. It's substantial.

As you can imagine, he was given milk that evening, and pretty much every other evening since then, too. No matter what the meal, milk. The exception to this is breakfast, which is when he is busy either drinking the milk at the bottom of his cereal bowl, or consuming his other favorite breakfast "food" called Carnation Instant Breakfast (which actually nowadays goes by a different, more idiotic name, but that's neither here nor there). Now, it's not a hard and fast rule, this milk drinking thing. It's just the ideal thing. He is relatively flexible when it comes to consumption of foods and drinks, so he will sometimes be found drinking other things at dinner, like beer or water. But, if given his druthers, it's milk. When we toast, it's his milk glass clinking against my non-milk glass, and it makes me incredibly happy.

My experience with milk as a drink has to do with a fair amount of required milk drinking at dinners throughout my childhood. The gallon of 2% milk, blue cap and all, was a common thread in every dinner during my childhood. Granted, I am grateful for the nutrition and, of course, wickedly strong bones (thanks, Mom and Dad!) but I'm not sure I actually ever loved milk as a drink. Here's the thing. Milk doesn't pair well with many foods, in my (humble, folks, very humble) opinion. It seems to wash out the flavors of foods, which is, of course, why it's such a perfect antidote to viciously spicy foods. I remember thinking that I would prefer to drink the milk either all at the end of the meal or all at the beginning of the meal, rather than taking sips in between bites. I never actually did this, because, as a child, I determined that this could possibly be construed by the cook as rudeness, which was a great fear I had. (I'm still overly conscious of my actions around someone who has cooked for me -- never season the food unless the cook offers the salt or pepper, always accept homemade food if it is offered to you, remember to compliment with specific description at the beginning and end and even sometimes in the middle of the meal, never ask for something that isn't already at the table, and so on. Mainly this is because, well, I have this gigantic fear of offending the cook. The sort-of-funny thing is that, in other areas of my life, I have no problem being a bit rude or obnoxious, but there's something about the sanctity of the table, about the rules of dining. It's sacred.)

Ah, look at me digress! Back to milk. It's kind of like the 50-watt paging horn of palate cleansers. It's going to do the job a little too well. This, though, is why milk is the perfect thing to consume with something sticky or extremely sweet, like cake or peanut butter or a box of Oreos. (Um, I don't even think Oreos come in a box. I don't get out very much, as you can tell.) You've gotta wash down your powerful food with a powerful drink so that you can keep on consuming it. Plus! It's so filling. Like drinking Guinness. It's seems like much more of a liquid meal than a drink.

I was just so excited to hurry up and get older so I could stop drinking milk at meals! Suddenly, it happened. I was eventually able to have water or iced tea if I preferred (which I most certainly did) and I was relieved beyond reason. This way, milk in a glass could be saved for times when I really needed it, like when there were doughnuts to be had, or cookies, or cereal, or a peanut butter sandwich. Plus, I could finally focus on putting milk where it truly belonged, like as an ingredient in pudding or a sauce or, of course, in coffee. Milk as an ingredient, is vital, I think, and this is why there is always, always milk in my refrigerator. As a cook, I always somehow have managed to plow through loads of milk, which means that my house is quite the haven for people who, you know, see it as the most important drink.

Babies! Kittens! Milkmen! Boyfriends! Come one, come all. This is your safe place!


Really Thick Milk (AKA Pudding)

As you can imagine, he also loves pudding, which makes me like him even more. This is the pudding I made last week. He asked for seconds, which means it must be pretty good -- considering he isn't much of a seconds kind of guy because he just doesn't eat very much in general. (I know! Weird!)

You can do anything with this pudding. I often turn it into coconut or banana pudding, and it's the base I used for cream pie filling. It is crazy easy, and, as you can see from its name, it's kind of like drinking really thick milk (if you're into that kind of thing).

2 C cow milk (I prefer 2%, but any kind will do)
3 egg yolks
1/3 C sugar
3 T cornstarch
1/4 t salt
1 T butter
1 t vanilla or vanilla bean paste

Combine first 5 ingredients. Whisk (somewhat constantly) over medium heat until thick. Try not to leave it unattended for very long, as it will love to stick to the bottom of the pan and turn into a gross mess. Turn down the heat if it seems like it is getting to bubbly or violent. When it looks almost thick enough to eat, turn off the heat and add the vanilla and butter. Whisk until butter is melted. Pour into a glass or ceramic dish, cover, and place in the fridge until it's the temperature you like. (It will thicken as it cools and sets.)

You can also put the pudding in individual cups, of course, and it'll make approximately four servings. Sometimes I like to hide bananas or berries under the pudding for a nice surprise. For a nice non-surprise, toasted coconut or almonds are a good addition for the top.