Hannah Hinckley’s voices of maine column

Milking it
Mom got goats one year. She started with three of them. They came with names on their pedigrees. They were Alpines, with alert ears and bright faces. The first was named Hot Fudge Sundae because of her coloring. She was three-toned with a lighter brown over most of her body, a black line down her back and a touch of white on her face.

Hot Fudge came from Harry Burgess over in West Paris. Harry was a farmer well into his 80s who drove his team of oxen in parades in the summer. He stopped in one day looking for a home for the goat in the back of his truck.

Mom and Dad took her.

The other two were black and white Marshmallow and brown and white Greta, who were sisters from another home in West Paris. The people were getting rid of them. They were both good milkers. Hot Fudge was a good “kidder,” but wasn’t real strong for the milking.

Dad built a shed between the house and his garage. Momma Pig already had the front part of the lean-to so she could greet Dad’s garage customers. She also had seniority.

The goats were put in the lean-to’s back half in a stall for the three of them. Mom had just enough room for a grain barrel and a couple bales of hay. The shed had a sliding barn door that rattled and banged awful when the wind blew. The inside was pretty cozy because hay was packed in the drafty spots.

Lots of milkshakes

Em and I would pretend it was our secret hideaway during our games of “Charlie’s Angels.” The goats had a pasture out behind the house. It was a short walk for Mom to do the milking and care for them.

Mom had one bowl, an old yellow plastic, mixing bowl made with a pour spout and handle, that was used for milking. She’d bring it into the house for straining when she was done milking. Often it was full to splashing over the brim so Bulova the dog followed closely for any slops coming down toward his head. Of course, Mom just thought Bully was trying to trip her most of the time because she couldn’t see where he was walking. He was an oversized shepherd and not easy to maneuver around.

Mom could nearly fill a gallon glass jar with one milking. At two times a day, it didn’t take long for the shelves of the refrigerator to be full of fresh goat’s milk. We girls did our best – having cereal every morning and milkshakes when we got home from school – but when the shelves were full we had to find more uses before it went bad.

One of the quickest ways to use up half a gallon of milk was to make some chocolate pudding.

Pudding is pudding, you might think if you’ve never had chocolate pudding made with fresh goat’s milk. There is nothing like it. The last ingredient that goes in the pudding is the vanilla, and it’s the one most easily forgotten because it’s added when the pudding is done cooking. In the winter, Mom set the pudding out in a snowbank to cool. In the summer, it was more of a task to find a cool spot, although the basement or the fridge were likely places.

Cream puffs were one of Mom’s favorite desserts. Her original cream puff recipe was made with vanilla pudding and chocolate frosting. Mom made them like that for years until her sister gave her a Hershey’s chocolate cookbook. She found a recipe for cream puffs filled with chocolate pudding and realized how much quicker that would be. The cream puffs were two- or three-bite size, easily edible. They ended up on a cookie sheet in the fridge to chill when done. They were rarely covered with plastic wrap as they were always devoured within a few days.

The making of the cream puff pastry can be a rather involved process the first few times, at least that is what my sister Jen might tell you. Whenever trying a new recipe, it is wise to read through it completely before you head right into mixing it.

The first time Jen made cream puffs with Mom she was in charge of the mixing. Mom kept getting sidetracked. When it got to the “add each egg, one at a time, and stir,” Jen missed that part. Instead, she put all four eggs in at once and had one big slimy mess that wouldn’t quite congeal into a cookable dough.

It is important for a fluffy pastry to mix the eggs one by one. Jen never forgot her lesson, but I’m not sure she ever tried cream puffs again.

Mom bred the goats to have kids in the spring. When they were born, we were glad to see the kids grow up because the milk was pretty “green” tasting while they were nursing. The adults still produced enough so that Mom would milk them for relief and put the jar into the refrigerator with the rest.

Em was usually the one to dump that over her Cheerios and be surprised by the taste. We would swirl the jar around to mix the cream back in and then smell it to be sure it was good.

If we were bottle-feeding one of the kids, the milk would be saved. Otherwise, we would find uses like adding it to Momma Pig’s slop bucket. We would have taste-tested it before we mixed it into the chocolate pudding though.

We couldn’t have our heavenly treat tainted by that milk for the baby goats.

Hannah Hinckley is a writer, veterinary technician, whitewater guide and Pampered Chef kitchen consultant. She lives in Winthrop and may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].