Chocolate Milk

Last week, I was granted three more reasons to be glad I moved to Minneapolis seven years ago.

(Full disclosure: I don’t live in Minneapolis proper, but in a suburb 15 minutes west of the city. But when I travel and people ask me where I’m from, I always proudly proclaim “Minneapolis.” )

A long time ago, I had a friend who seriously thought carrot cake was good for you because it had, as one of its ingredients, carrots.

And by “a long time ago,” I mean 2002. And by “a friend,” I mean myself.

Although I spend a lot of my time thinking and writing about good food, I'm pretty inconsistent when it comes to what I actually do. When my (then) three-year-old boy went on a calcium strike, for example, I caved in after about four minutes and made him chocolate milk. When my daughter pouted instead of getting dressed for school, I offered a piece of candy as motivation to speed things up. When I picked the kids up from school, I'd bring lollipops and crackers. When I had a rough day at work, I'd reward myself with a piece of ice cream pie.

I'm writing about these things in the past tense because I'm committed to change. Summer's coming, and my strategy of doling out treats in order to keep people happy needs to change. It will change.

I got to meet Carter from Simple Provisions a few weeks back, when he delivered fresh, local milk, ice cream, hot dogs, and bread to my house. Carter is a nice man, gentle and unassuming, and I had to pry the following basic information from him: