Raw milk is one of those issues that riles people (and inspires puns, "raw deal," "raw nerves" and the like). This week Massachusetts farmers and fans of raw milk were sufficiently agitated to bring a cow to Boston Common, in view of the State House, to demonstrate their anger at state laws banning the sale of raw milk anywhere but directly from farms certified to sell it.
That Massachusetts allows the sale of raw milk at all makes it unusual—only 28 states do, and laws addressing how and where it can be sold vary by state. The reason: raw milk can be deadly, and can cause severe illness with what Barry Estabrook, in a post defending raw milk, recently called a "rogue's gallery of bugs" (and he named quite a number). The Centers for Disease Control says that even if only 1 to 3 percent of the U.S. population consumes raw milk or raw milk products, 68 percent of disease outbreaks related to dairy products involve raw milk or raw milk products.[Update below.] Here's a FAQ page from the CDC with claims that would make raw-milk proponents mad: for instance, that there's no evidence that drinking raw milk can protect against illnesses like asthma and allergies, nor evidence that raw milk is any more nutritious than pasteurized milk.
Don't tell people who want their milk raw! They'll gladly give you a long list of its disease-preventing qualities, and trump everything by calling it REAL MILK, milk that has been spared the depredations of industry that "feeds swill" to cows, "tampers with and harms" milk by mixing hundreds of batches together and homogenizing it "so you can't tell the cream from the fat from the milk," and wants to "be sure people have no idea where milk comes from."
All this was from a woman helping staff the table I found on the Common, where a farmer was pouring passersby tastes of raw milk. She had a shock of long, wavy, cream-white hair and looked like she'd spent most of her life on the farm. In fact I recognized her right away as the prominent local food activist Abby Rockefeller, who divides her time between Cambridge, across the river, and a farm in New Hampshire. We've met at Slow Food activities, and as always she was wonderfully outspoken. (Here's a paper she wrote on sludge; she's a strong supporter of composting toilets, and in the 1970s founded a company to sell them.)
Outraged, in fact. Rockefeller is one of the people who have banded together in buyer's clubs that, in essence, carpool milk by making a pickup for numerous customers at a certified farm and then deliver it. Because of direct-sale laws, anyone in and around Boston who wants raw milk has to drive at least 45 minutes each way to get it. Old-fashioned milk delivery isn't allowed. Rare as they are (I treasure the metal milk boxes on front porches in my neighborhood, awaiting deliveries in glass bottles from Thatcher Farms), existing residential milk-delivery services could help remedy the main objection the state Department of Public Health (disclosure, headed by my spouse, John Auerbach) has to selling raw milk off the farm: the risk of improper refrigeration. All milk is subject to deterioration and rapid bacterial growth the higher the temperature, but with raw milk the deterioration is rapid and dangerous, because of its much higher bacterial count before pasteurization. [UPDATE: The Boston Globe ran a lead editorial supporting the state. They must've read Barry, because they refer to the "rogue's gallery" of germs. Their conclusion: "By restricting raw-milk sales to licensed farms, the state can at least isolate the source of any outbreak. Creating a new licensing and inspection system to keep track of such milk and ensure its safety once it leaves the dairy is a burden the state should be spared."]
That high bacterial count is just what makes raw milk desirable and good, of course: those bacteria give milk and, particularly, cheese and yogurt their flavor. I wrote about my own advocacy of raw milk and inherent trust of it 10 years ago in a piece advocating raw-milk cheese in America and, unsurprisingly, Vermont, whose cheese has only gotten better and better in the years since. Then and now, it wasn't easy to get people to try drinking raw milk:
It's hard to engage non-food people in urgent talk about raw milk, which seems like a dangerous relic of the pre-Pasteur past. It's even harder to get people to try a sip, as I discovered on a visit to Martha's Vineyard last summer, which began with stops at local farms to collect ingredients for a reunion lunch. One of the farms was a state-certified raw-milk dairy, and after lunch I proudly passed around a creamer full of raw whole milk to go with coffee. My friends, who I knew loved milk, suddenly decided that they'd really always preferred their coffee black.
I couldn't blame them. But I happen to trust raw milk instinctively, having grown up in a dairy-farming town, and I remember as one of the greatest treats imaginable the tea a family friend served with milk warm from the cow.
On the Common the other day, a young man hesitated before taking a proffered paper cup of milk, closed his eyes with a what-the-hell expression, and after he swallowed opened them and said to no one in particular, "It's actually kinda good! It tastes like half-and-half." (If he'd read Barry's post, he would surely have agreed that "You've never tasted real milk in all of its rich, creamy, complex glory until you've tasted raw milk.")