For many years of my youth, my mother and I went on Wednesday afternoons to a nearby farm to get fresh milk. The cream would sit on top, a visible band of white that dared you to disturb it.
Eventually, the couple stopped producing milk for sale and we went back to store-bought milk. It was a let-down.
Through a friend, though, K and I have found another farm.
Now if K’s mother were only here for a visit so she could make her amazing doughnuts…