Thanks to Jammies I can now say I love goat's milk.
Here is Jammies. You can read about her here
To let you in on a big secret, the goatgirl doesn't like goat milk or goat cheese. It has always tasted...well...goaty to me. I want to like it and have tried it often but I can always taste a hint of goat. As a kid with goats the milk was pretty good and I would find pleasure in serving our unsuspecting guest a glass of my goat's milk but my mother wouldn't use the milk as a rule and what we had was fed to the babies or given to a friend of a friend for their child that was allergic to cow's milk. Or my mom's friend's hippy son. It was the '70's man.
When I got Nubians after I was married the milk always tasted a bit off so once again I fed it to the babies and then let the momma dry off after they were weaned.
One day at school, someone brought in the most gorgeous salad you would ever want to eat. You know the one, three different kinds of lettuce, candied pecans, cranberries, raspberry vinaigrette dressing.......and goat cheese. Chucks of smelly goat cheese that tasted like I had just licked my goat. The only one that couldn't stand it was goatgirl...and the secretary because she too has extraordinary taste buds. So I have pretty much stayed clear of anything made from goats.
The other day I went over to the goatfarmer's to learn how to be her relief milker when she needs relief. It was very fun but since I hadn't milked in years I was a little rusty. The LaManchas were a breeze but the Minimancha, Jammies, was a bit of a challenge for me. The dwarf-sized teats and these farmer-sized hands did not a match make. I milked out one side but could not get my weak left hand to milk the other side. The farmer got it started and I knocked her out of the way so I could finish. While milking Jammies and knowing that her milk was the farmer's favorite I asked for a taste of it. The farmer got a funny look on her face and said she was so sorry but there was none left. I said well what about this milk right here that I'm milking out now? Well what could she say then? She took the milk inside and poured it in a clean jar and set it to cooling while we milked the rest of the does.
After we finished milking all but one doe (Bertie wouldn't come in from the pasture as long as the relief milker was anywhere in sight) we went inside to get the milk. The farmer told me to have a taste now. I made some lame excuse about it not being cool but saw that wasn't getting anywhere so gingerly I took a sip. Wow, my eyes flew open because swirling around in my mouth was the best milk, goat or otherwise, that I have ever tasted. Creamy, sweet goat's milk like none I had ever experienced.
I took my prize home and have been enjoying it all weekend in my coffee wishing I had some cheese making supplies. Even Hubby has been bypassing the 2 gallons of milk he bought the other day to slip some of that delicious milk into his coffee. After two days I tried it again, almost sure it would have a hint of goatiness....not a hint. This is good news and I am now on a mission to find my own sweet milking goat since neither of my Nigerian's are going to kid this year:(
So thanks to a little goat named Jammies I am now a true goatgirl enjoying all that is truly goat.
update: Being a "nothing ventured, nothing gained" kind of person, I told the goatfarmer that I would buy Jammies. I was politely reminded that I had a darling Nigerian named Cora Belle that is related to Jammies and would provide me with the same sweet milk next year (I guess that's a no). I had somehow forgotten about that in my goat milk stupor.