Wherein the milk of human kindness curdles a bit.

Please be seated, this may come as a shock to you.

The people who produce the foodie-grade edibles in this country are not, by and large, foodies. They are usually off-the-grid types who, 30 years ago would have gone on top of a hill with a bottle of Coke and warbled about how they'd like to teach the world to sing if only Coca-Cola weren't such an capitalist enterprise. Nowadays, they have made some grudging acceptance of the free-market (akin to a flat-earther acknowledging our planet's "slight curvature") to the very minimum extent required to stay in business. Why do they want to stay in business? "To make a difference."

The problem is that hoping against hope to make a difference often leads to stupid-@$$ decisions. In particular, I am railing against two major organic dairy producers...you know who you are.

The fact these are not foodies we're dealing with here was driven home when I noticed, to my regret, their milk is now "ultra pasteurized." This, as opposed to regular pasteurization, is done SOLELY to extend shelf life. The problem is that the fancy-pants milk now tastes exactly like regular milk and, from a foodie's standpoint, it no longer has any material advantage over milk that clocks in at 75% cheaper. The attitude being "never mind how it tastes...look how good for you/the environment it is!" All references to how much better it tasted have been dropped from the cartons, in favor of details on how the barns were built by communes from recyclables foraged by indigenous Elbonians and how a percentage of the profits have been donated to Hemp Growers Without Borders.
But that doesn't solve the problem of my finding milk that tastes like milk.

#$%& ultra-pasteurization.

Things Without Which You Oughtn't Live

Last night, I went to a tasting since my client (the guy who was supposed to be at the tasting) begged off and handed me his ticket. The tasting was of a few food purveyors who brought along interesting tidbits for the assemble to taste and, they hoped, order in staggering quantities. The tidbits were pretty good, actually...even if they were a bit unorthodox (trout caviar, cherry-smoked salmon, etc., etc.) but that's not what blew me away. THIS was:

This Glacier vodka was soooo smooth and haunting I spent a perfectly untenable amount of my nonexistent free time tracking it down to find out what it was. I strongly urge you to seek it out and drink it. Me? I'm dreaming of lacing the ideal Bloody Mary therewith but those of you who prefer abominations (like a vodka martini) or merely aberrations (such as vodka and tonic), will likewise adore it. And I'm not a vodka fan.

The ironic thing of it is that it's not Russian. Hell, it's not even Eastern European...or even European! It's from Ida-freakin'-ho. But they know their taters in Idaho and apparently they also know what to do with Rocky Mountain water and also what ought be done to surplus spuds.

You're welcome, Internet.

-J.