Don’t be surprised if you notice that our children have Popeye forearms. It’s the cow that’s responsible. And that’s even without the milking responsibility.
Once the milk enters the house, the action begins. One sentry awaits the definition of the line, as the cream rises. Then there is the careful skimming and separation of this precious, precious stuff. Some of it will be destined for creamsicles, some for ice-cream, some for butter.
After appropriate warming, the jar of cream is shaken vigorously, for longer than you want, the contents first turning a tinge of yellow, then magically transforming into clumps of butter. This needs separation from the buttermilk, washing and containment.
Meanwhile some of the skimmed milk is warmed, stirred continuously, and kefir is added. The watchful waiter of the next few hours has first dibs on yogurt.
And then there are the frothers. Milk is heated, stirred and frothed with vigor. Everyone likes hot frothed milk.
So this house is comprised of skimmers, stirrers, shakers, frothers, and scrubbers. Kudos to the cow.