When I was a kid, I thought only girls drank milk.
This belief was almost certainly born from our dinnertime ritual: my mom would ask my sisters and I what we wanted to drink as we sat down to dinner. As we came to the table and sat in a row on the homemade wood (railway-tie, in fact) benches, she would say, “milk or water?” and usually we’d say milk, because it was more interesting than water, if not by much. My dad didn’t like milk. So most nights the four of us (two sisters, my mom and I) would drink milk while my dad had water.
And then one night my uncle came to visit from the west coast, and he asked for milk with his dinner. It was so weird, this dude sitting at the dinner table, drinking a glass of milk like it was the most normal thing ever.
I bought a jug of particularly delicious organic 2% milk the other day – unconsciously spurred, I think, by that batch of browned butter blondies. And though I rarely drink milk by the glass, the pairing was irresistible. My fridge, which is making sounds that indicate it’s slowly dying, got incredibly cold in one spot, freezing my herbs and almost turning the milk into slurpee. Since then I have been fixated on anything that goes well with icy cold milk – a bowl of Corn Flakes in bed, cookies, oatmeal.
And then one day in line at the coffee shop, the two little boys in front of us loudly asked their mom if they could have chocolate chip muffins. And she said yes, and so W turned to me and asked if he could have one too, but the boys got the last ones. And so I promised to make a batch at home, excited at the prospect of making them with a chocolate batter that’s more chocolate than sweet – the perfect pairing with a glass of milk.