Milk straight from the cow has become a new obsession of New York’s raw-food disciples, who believe that it works as a “milk cure” for ailments as varied as hypertension, heart disease, chronic gastritis, and psoriasis. They dispute accusations (made by the F.D.A., among other dairy-industry stooges) that raw-milk products contain high levels of pathogens that can cause salmonella, brucellosis, and tuberculosis.
The raw-milk question goes way back, in these parts. In pre-Revolutionary Manhattan, the sale of milk seems to have been forbidden in public markets. In a letter to a newspaper in 1763, a dairy zealot channelled the voice of milk itself: “What can or may be the reasons that I am not admitted or ordered into the public markets? Tho’ that I am the support and only nourishment of almost every creature, the poorer sort of mankind are deprived of me, as they cannot bribe my bearers.” Over the years, the sale of raw milk has been so restricted that it has become virtually impossible to buy.
By 6:15 p.m., the customers had begun to show up, greeting one another with silent nods. They eyed strangers with suspicion. Rumor had it that an angry vegan might be infiltrating the ranks. “All you need is one person in the dairy world to tell someone else,” Claudia said. At precisely six-thirty, the coolers were opened, revealing a tightly packed stash of bootleg milk, butter, cream cheese, and feta. The farmer, baby-faced and dressed in black jeans, began filling brown paper bags with his goods.
After an hour, Claudia was getting tired. “I am spending so much of my life for this,” she said. “Sometimes I think, What am I doing it for?” She lowered her voice. “The thing I’m most protective about is the farmer.” She looked over at him. His supply had sold out, and he was packing up the empty coolers, his pocket stuffed with crumpled checks and dollar bills.
This article appears in the print edition of the November 29, 2004, issue.