My Grandmother was a terrific baker and ground her own flour. She had buttermilk for baking delivered to the house and I remember the delivery man calling out "Buuuuutttttterrrrrmilk!" as he came to the back door. Good memories of a time now gone.
Good memories indeed. AND long gone. My g’mother’s big house on Canal St in NO had many ice boxes. Real ones! I can remember the ice man with his tongs and his big leather shoulder-protector. HIs horse knew the route and while he was delivering at one house the horse moved on down to the next one. We’re hi-tech now. An improvement? I wonder sometimes.
When the king says his highest duty is to protect you, prepare the barricades.