“Buttermilk” by Doug Fincher

May 24, 2021 - I don’t like buttermilk; I love it. I first drank some of it in 1939. I was three years old and my parents and  my 5-year-old brother Bill lived in an old unpainted shack a few miles south of Center, Texas. Every week, my Aunt Belvin would bring us a gallon of fresh churned buttermilk and some fresh butter. Mother said I always asked her, “Are it cold?” since lowering it in our well was the only way to keep it cool. Uncle Billy Gene would often eat with us and invariably put beans in my buttermilk while Daddy asked the blessing.

Most modern buttermilk is cultured, but it is still common in warm climates where unrefrigerated fresh milk sours quickly to churn it like we did when we were kids. The old-time fresh churned milk is not as available nowadays, but a few places like The Pickett House in Woodville, Texas still serves it - at least they did a few years ago when Pam and I used to eat there.

I finally quit mentioning buttermilk from the pulpit after the same "we don’t do buttermilk" remarks from the members. And when I mentioned liking cornbread in it, it was just too much for most of our members.