Chilly Hope

by Troy Bishopp

If you’re like me, one of the most cherished moments in a dairy farmer’s life is when the bulk tank agitator turned off and the morning milking was chilled down to a beautiful 36 degrees.  You lift the lid; the freshness of the milk and its creamy butterfat permeates your senses, and you are whole.  It’s an experience you want everyone in America to respect because it’s your craft, your calling, it’s your life.

When you “draw” off a pitcher of the cold, raw, nutrient-dense goodness and take that first magical gulp from nature’s matriarch soldiers, the taste is incredible enough that you want it all the time.  But alas, as you move from farm to school and move up the age chain, that chill of delicious milk is, well, lukewarm.

In elementary and high school, those pints of milk at lunch or before football practice were always semi-cold enough to drink but not to truly enjoy.  It wasn’t till I got a meal plan at Morrisville College that I discovered the beauty of that free-standing refrigerated bulk milk where you could dispense cold nutrition from the stainless-steel handle.  With age and family comes many other beverage choices indeed, but you never forget your first frosty milk integrated with “Honey Maid” graham crackers.

This temperate metaphor has been going on all my life as milk in particular has seen an onslaught of competition from “Big” soda, flavored waters and manufactured plant-based white juice.  The marketing is intense whether you’re in the store, online or even at a farming venue, which is of particular interest to me even though we are essentially quarantined to virtual meetings.

I’m admitting to being “that” guy who comes into a meeting place or the usual hotel chain and wonders, (usually aloud), will there be any dairy products on tap.  Will “we” be walking the walk or just talking the talk?  When breaks are offered will we be inundated with familiar wheeled carts of soda or will there be some New York dairy in our diet?  How do we assure there will be a different outcome? 

Take freaking charge of our own destiny, because after all, we are customers too.

In honor of last week’s 2021 National Milk Day, I offer hope.  This outlook comes courtesy of a young lady named Miranda Palmer who works for the Tioga County Soil & Water Conservation District.  Just before the pandemic hit in earnest in 2020, I attended a conservation professional meeting at Tioga Downs where Ms. Palmer was the principal food and beverage liaison for the meeting.

What I appreciated almost immediately was her pride of working in earnest to showcase milk front and center and the wry smile that beamed of that success, to get-it-done.  Even more poignant, she didn’t have to hear my god-awful cynicism about the lack of any appreciable dairy products at yet another meeting. Even though it shouldn’t be that big of a deal to serve NY dairy products at public venues or agricultural service provider meetings.

There on the greeting table, displayed prominently, were two spectacular glass decanters full of iced white and chocolate milk.  Was I in Heaven or what?  As she ushered me over to the monuments of milk, I drew the ceremonial first glass.  Cold, whole and delicious just the way I remembered it from the farm and how it needs to be, to sell our craft of nourishing America. Was I proud?  Darn right. 

Thank you for your inspiration young lady.  Let’s raise a glass of chilly hope to the future of possibilities, “born not of words but of deeds”.