The New Yorker! The Talk of the Town

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The New Yorker: The Talk of the Town

CONTRABAND

PSST! GOT MILK?

Issue of 2004-11-29

Posted 2004-11-22

In a Hell’s Kitchen basement the other day,

Manhattan’s first shipment of raw milk—unpasteurized, unlicensed, unhomogenized,

and illegally transported across state lines—was delivered to the grateful, if

wary, members of a private raw-milk coven. K., a herbalist and community

gardener, had masterminded the drop-off through e-mails to a secret Listserv of

lacto-fermentation scofflaws. ’s messages included price lists ($4.25 per

gallon of raw milk, $4 for a quart of raw yogurt), a downloadable contract, and

an appeal: “Please do not forward this e-mail to anyone. . . . We ask this

because of the legal constraints put on us for the sale of raw milk.”

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.

Before the drop-off in Hell’s Kitchen,

Donahoe, a massage therapist, was helping set up tables for three jumbo coolers

of contraband dairy products that a Mennonite farmer had sent from Pennsylvania.

“These guys are saving people’s lives,” Donahoe said. “I was allergic to milk

for ten years. But I found out if I have raw milk I can drink as much as I

want.” Donahoe related a baroque history of ailments, including

attention-deficit disorder, bipolar disorder, and chronic fatigue syndrome. “I

started raw milk only a month ago,” he said. “But I feel incredible.”

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,” 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.

Wayne Burkey, a real-estate broker, who lives in

Tribeca with his wife and two-year-old twins, was loading up a grocery cart. “I

don’t consume any of this,” he said. He admitted to liking hot dogs. “We do this

for the children. They’ve never been sick. Not even a cold.”

A dog walker named Danny took a philosophical

view. “This is a challenge to the commodification of life itself,” he said,

before adding that he regularly ingests raw animal foods, such as cow hearts. “I

clean off any arteries, cut it into small pieces, and I eat it.”

“No marinade?” someone asked. “No mustard?”

“I just cut it up,” he said. “I’m a minimalist.”

After an hour, 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.

COMMENT

EXCAVATION DEPT.

DEPT. OF SCHOOL SPIRIT

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