I LOVE MILK!
Milk, yes milk, is in my Top Five Drinks List behind only Duvel Belgian Golden Ale, and followed by YooHoo, Coca-Cola, and original lemon/lime Gatorade. And for a while here, I’ve been living in Milk Heaven, strangely thanks to the pandemic. Most of the past year+ we’ve been in emergency mode, and to prevent spread of the virus, meals have been delivered to our unit instead of being served in the cafeteria. Breakfast arrives at 6 am. What with people sleeping in, choosing not to eat breakfast, or just not being milk fiends like me, I’ve been swamped with milk cartons or, sadly sometimes, milk pouches. Milk for cereal, for coffee, put on ice to save for lunch and dinner, more than even I can drink.
But then came the day the milk died. The kitchen felt that too much contraband was leaving the dining hall smuggled in on the meal carts (go figure), so covid protocols be damned, we’re going back to the cafeteria again. We were promised that each unit would dine separately to reduce the risk of prison-wide infection, but since that would require time, effort, and coordination, the guards threw up their hands, said whatev’, and – Delta Variant, anyone? – the whole prison population gets thrown in together at meal times.
So no more hand-me-down milk for me! But I was not to be deterred! My initial plan was to keep to myself, eat a quick breakfast, grab a couple extra milks and rush back to my cell for coffee. But even though they couldn’t be bothered to keep the units separated during meals, the guards began to fiercely police food leaving the dining hall. Heading back to the unit the first day meant you were scrutinized, checked-over, and possibly frisked by no fewer than three officers. I mean, you’d think milk was the infection agent for covid or something.
I can imagine their conversations, along the lines of: "Officer Smith, you seized six milk cartons today! Thank goodness you are keeping the units safe!" Or "Men, remember, there is nothing we need less than a bunch of criminals hopped up on dairy products and strung out on calcium!"
Did I mention that I love milk? What was I going to do? I was willing to try the old armpit hide or waistband stuff to get past the guards, but to stop that the staff pulled out the big guns: UNIFORMS! And not just any uniforms! Jumpsuits! I mean, seriously? Nothing makes you feel less like a real person than parading around in one-piece jumpers. I’ve known inmates who refuse to leave their cells all day if they have to wear these things. But if this new costume keeps guys from taking a carton of milk back to their units, well the prison system is all for it.
They had me beat. No way could I get past the guard gauntlet in this get-up. So I turned to my last resort, a truly drastic move: Instant Milk. Yes, I’m a milk snob, the very idea of instant milk upsets me. As a kid, my mother once tried to mix milk powder with liquid milk in order to save money, but my siblings and I bucked on that one– we weren’t going out like that! After all, what self-respecting American child is going to taint their monster cereals (of which the rare Yummy Mummy may be the best) with – gasp! – instant milk?
But here I am in prison 40 years later, and it’s my only choice. I don’t have my old fave Count Chocula, so here it’s Blueberry Flaxseed Granola. I open the powdered milk container, scoop out 3 tablespoons, add exactly 8 ounces of cold water and, with a sniff, begin to stir. It takes longer than you’d think for the granules to dissolve, but eventually, yes, the moment of truth arrives! Do I dare to drink it straight? Or only in cereal or coffee? Baby steps: two spoonfuls in the coffee (hmm, not bad). With a bowl of granola? (Tastes okay, but not cold enough.)
Day Two of the Great Instant Milk Experiment: I left a frozen bottle of water out overnight, thinking by morning it would have melted down to meet my strict coldness standard. Fail. Again, with the coffee it was okay, but just not cold enough for cereal.
Day Three of the GIME: Up at 6 am, mixed the stuff up and only then put the milk on ice for an hour and a half. Result? Satisfactory, maybe this could be tolerable long-term. I mean, it’s nowhere close to the real thing. Based on usage and price (I have to buy this stuff at the commissary store), it will probably cost me about $15/month to avoid the mess they call breakfast. I’m doing okay, but you never know when I might crack and find myself suiting up in my jumpsuit for fresh milk again!
