There is a local dairy farm here called Crescent Ridge. My first encounter with them was through work actually. They deliver milk and cream to us weekly in old fashioned glass milk bottles. They rattle together in the truck and it’s an amazingly nostalgic sound.
My second encounter was when John & I made a special trip to Sharon, MA to go visit the cows and get some ice cream. What an awesome time it was: a perfect summer night, warm, dusk, watching the dairy cows, and cooling off with some of the tastiest ice cream I’ve ever eaten.
My third, and now ongoing, encounter took place via a local store in Davis Square called Dave’s Fresh Pasta. I almost squealed with glee when I saw that Dave’s carries Crescent Ridge ice cream in their freezer.
We stopped in tonight to pick up some homemade handcut whole wheat pasta (drool) and saw that they now carry quarts of Crescent Ridge chocolate milk. We looked at it, then at each other, and made a grab for it at the same time. We walked out and took turns swigging the cold, creamy, chocolately milk on our walk home. Another perfect summer memory.
So that is my guilty pleasure, dairy style. Crescent Ridge, I salute you.
I'm a lady who enjoys photography, football, cooking, long drives with the windows down, This American Life, kettlecorn, hot yoga, pop punk, my nephews, my cat Reggie, and my home: Boston.
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