Milk

I went down to Mississauga the other day. My friend Jenn has graduated Nipissing, and is going to be pursuing graduated studies at the University of Victoria. She was having a going away party for herself.

Anyways... I got a ride down with our mutual friend Megan (who, is more Jenn's friend than mine). She's nice. A bit of a drinker, but I can't really cast judgement on that sort of thing. Hahaha!! We got to talking, about a lot of things. We talked about how she Loves to teach, and I've decided that she's going to be amazing at it based on her passion alone, let alone all the great ideas she has for running a classroom. We talked about the importance of being happy, and paying dues, and that sorta thing. We also talked about different bars, good ones and bad ones. We talked about Jenn, mostly good stuff... :D I hope Jenn reads that...

However, one of the strangest things we talked about was our Love of milk. The day after a good night of partying, we both enjoy a nice glass of milk or two. Sometimes, I don't' even wait until the next morning. People tease us, or voice concern that the milk will curdle in our stomachs once it mixes with all the gin/beer/tequila we've been indulging in. But it just doesn't bother us. But not just any milk will do...

For example. It must be cold. And as an avid milk drinker, I do everything I can to keep it cold. Some may even call me obsessed, or demented. But the difference shows. Both Megan and I discovered we share a pet peeve for people who leave milk out on the table during a meal. Those few seconds, minutes, and in some horrendous cases, hours, all can result in a noticeable increase in the temperature of the milk. Disgusting. Haha!! My sister likes to bake, and when she does, I hover around waiting for her to finish with the milk so I can rush it back to the fridge.

Now, sometimes, people are kind of enough to let me stay at their homes. If this is for an extended period of time, they also sometimes let me drink their milk. "No milk, will ever be our milk." Hehehe... Billy Madison. ANYWAYS... If all these conditions are met, I get a little weird. See, heat rises. So, the top shelf of a fridge is warmer than the lower shelves. In no instance is this more evident, than when one tries to properly chill milk. If I'm allowed to stay at your home, and drink your milk, I WILL rearrange the contents of fridge so that the milk is on the lowest possible shelf, if it is not there already. Yeah...

Now, other than coldness, I'm not picky unless I have the choice. You can have 2%, 1%, Skim (ew!) and as long as it's cold, I'll drink it. It can be any brand, carton or bag, whatever. However, if I have a choice? Beatrice, 2%, bag. There is a difference. When I was 6 years old, I tasted the difference. My dad brought home another brand of milk one day, and after I complained, he said "You wouldn't be able to tell the difference if you didn't see the bag!"

And it just hit me. Like, right now. This was my first experiment. It began early. A need to prove things, a stubbornness, to be sure, an inquisitive nature, I don't know... Nevertheless, a taste test ensued. Poor n values, but the importance of blinding the subject was evident. I used a peanut butter cookie to mask the flavour of the previous drink. Hahaha!! I was able to tell the difference between the different brands of milk. And the rest, is history.