By Tom Harte
The ancient Greeks believed that our galaxy was created when the goddess Hera spilled some of her milk as she was nursing the baby Hercules. Each drop became a star in what we have ever after appropriately called the Milky Way. The root of the word "galaxy," in fact, means milk.
Similarly, the Fulani of West Africa subscribed to the notion that the world began with a single drop of milk and Norse legend has it that a cow called Audhumla sustained the world at the beginning by producing rivers of milk. Likewise the Egyptians, the Hindus and the Sumerians assigned milk a central role in their creation stories.
Milk-based creation myths can be found in many cultures around the world and you might regard them as merely entertaining and fanciful stories, as I always have. But recently, though I still don't regard them as literally true, I have come to a deeper understanding of why many in the ancient world regarded milk as at the center of the universe.
That's because for the last couple of weeks I have been in Los Angeles visiting my new grandson and namesake for whom right now milk really is the center of the universe. Noting his dependence on milk, the first food of all humans, and all mammals for that matter, I have a further appreciation of the substance which food historian Anne Mendelson, writing in the Oxford Companion to Sugar and Sweets, calls "the first and the most chemically complex food encountered by any mammal in a lifetime of eating."
No wonder the distinguished food scientist Harold McGee begins his seminal work on food and cooking with a chapter on milk. It is one of the staples of the Western diet, the first thing grocery stores run out of during threatening weather, along with bread -- and toilet paper.
But it has not always been this way. For most of history, at least until about 10,000 or so years ago, human beings were not particularly interested in, or were downright averse to, actually drinking this remarkable liquid. So what is perhaps even more remarkable than milk itself is the fact that anyone ever thought of using another species' milk for food. We humans are the only ones who do it.
Along the way milk became anointed nature's most perfect food on the one hand and viewed with suspicion on the other. Even today it and the production practices associated with it are not without controversy. In some cultures, it is considered merely an unclean animal secretion.
But when all is said and done it's hard to imagine that there's any better accompaniment to a warm cookie than a glass of milk. Moreover, without this opaque white liquid there would be no yogurt, butter, cheese, or (shudder) whipped cream. Truly, from a culinary standpoint it is, as McGee observes, "an elemental fluid rich in possibility."
The past couple of weeks spent visiting my newborn grandson have made me realize that even a baby seems to know that.
Braising meat is a wonderful way to add flavor and increase tenderness, and when milk is the braising liquid it works that much better, adding a slightly caramel flavor and imparting a downright silky texture to the meat. This recipe, adapted from Food & Wine magazine, was developed by Elena Arzak and Juan Mari Arzak, who operate a famed eponymous restaurant in San Sebastian, Spain.
Season each piece of pork with salt and pepper and slather with 1/2 teaspoon mustard. In a skillet brown pork on all sides in olive oil over moderately high heat. Remove from skillet, drain off oil, and add milk, garlic, and sage. Simmer over moderately low heat until garlic is nearly tender, about 20 minutes. Return pork and accumulated juices to skillet and simmer another 20 minutes or until pork registers 140 degrees, turning every 5 minutes. Remove and keep warm. Discard sage sprig. Puree milk sauce until smooth. Slice pork 1-inch thick, arrange on plates, and spoon sauce over.
Connect with the Southeast Missourian Newsroom:
For corrections to this story or other insights for the editor, click here. To submit a letter to the editor, click here. To learn about the Southeast Missourian’s AI Policy, click here.