2,440 of 2,472 people found the following review helpful:
Make this your only stock and store
Once upon a mid-day sunny, while I savored Nuts 'N Honey,
With my Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 gal, 128 fl. oz., I swore
As I went on with my lapping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at the icebox door.
'Bad condensor, that,' I muttered, 'vibrating the icebox door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
2,411 of 2,458 people found the following review helpful:
One Friday, Without the Milk
He always brought home milk on Friday.
After a long hard week full of days he would burst through the door, his fatigue hidden behind a smile. There was an icy jug of Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 Gallon, 128 fl oz in his right hand. With his left hand he would grip my waist - I was always cooking dinner - and press the cold frostiness of the jug against my arm as he...
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by dairy, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the milkless streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly Tuscan Whole Milk to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
who dry cereals and tatters and brittle-boned and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of dairy-farm flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating cows,
who bared their cereal to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels pouring Tuscan Whole Milk on tenement roofs illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant cool glasses of milk hallucinating Tuscany and white-light tragedy among the scholars of milk,
who were expelled from Amazon for crazy & publishing obscene odes to the tragic 128 fl milky oz,
who cowered in spoiled dairy rooms in underwear, drinking their milk from wastebaskets and listening to the Mooing through the wall,
who got busted in their milk mustaches returning through Amazon with an empty cup for Italy,
who ate cookies wanting milk in paint hotels or drank wan thin skim milk in Paradise Alley, death, or lactose wracked their torsos night after night
with dreams, with cereal, with waking nightmares, cookies and Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 Gallon, 128 fl oz
- - -
Footnote to Milk
Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
Whole Milk is holy! Tuscany is holy! The cows are holy!
The calcium is holy! The mammary and colostrum and udder
and pasteurization holy!
Everything is holy! everybody's holy! everywhere is
holy! everyday is in eternity! Everyman's an
angel!
The milk's as holy as the seraphim! the 128 fl oz is
holy as you my Tuscan Whole Milk are holy!
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Last summer, my husband ordered a jug of Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 Gallon, 128 fl oz. We were about to embark on our yearly 3 hour boating tour and it was a relief that one of our errands- buying milk- was done with just a couple of clicks. (Back then, you see, Amazon was offering this product with the Amazon Prime option which set the delivery date for the day we were expected to return from vacation.)
We arrived at the dock two days later to discover our usual yachting team had been replaced by a crew of two newbies. We assumed that they would work well together since they had chosen to dress in complementary polo shirts- blue for the portlier gentleman and red for his mate. Unfortunately, our confidence in the younger gentleman was premature- he turned out to be incompetent.
The weather started getting rough. The tiny ship was tossed. If not for the courage of the fearless crew, the Minnow (our ship's name) would have been lost. We landed on an uncharted desert isle. The other passengers were quick to set up camp- under the direction of a professor from the local community college (a fellow passenger- very bossy). However, we were too grief-strickened to participate in their survivalist activities. We knew that our milk- our glorious milk- would be delivered soon and that, without us around to place the jug into the refridgerator, we would be coming home to a curdled, smelly mess on our front porch.
As the evening wore on, we decided to camp out on shore while our stranded companions slept in their huts. Just as my husband and I were about to nod off, drinking inferior cups of coconut milk for a nightcap, we noticed a glow on the horizon! A rescue boat! We were saved! As the boat pulled closer, we noticed that the captain of the ship was holding something above his head. As he came closer, we saw that it was a box labeled "UPS" and "amazon.com". Could it be?
We swam out to sea and climbed into the rescue boat. The captain smiled at us as we joyfully tore open the package- Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 gallon, 128 fl oz!! It was! We tilted our heads back and poured the contents into our grateful, dehydrated mouths! We toasted to our rescuers until the ship docked and we had returned to civilization!
We found out later that our usual delivery man from UPS was the reason for our speedy rescue. After delivering our package to our vacant house in the morning, he became alarmed when he spotted the package still on the step later in the evening. He was responsible for the search and rescue party that found us- all to ensure that our Amazon delivery got to us in the two days! Oh, Prime!
We never mentioned to anyone else that others in our party had survived the accident. How could we tell them that our gluttenous love of Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 Gallon, 128 fl oz caused us to forget the others? We can only hope that the others- the skipper, Gilligan, the millionaire and his wife, the movie star, the professor and Mary Ann- make it home alive.
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My housemates and I got snowed in by the second horrifying blizzard to hit Washington, D.C. this winter. The day before I went to the grocery store which was mobbed by like-minded individuals, stocking up for the inevitable. I had no trouble finding the eggs, Gatorade powder, or Hawaiian shirts, but as I approached the milk rack, I saw that it was completely empty. Looted! Vandals, all of them! Soy and Hemp milk abounded, but the remaining racks were but skeletons. Until I saw, ten feet back into the refrigeration unit, Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 Gallon, 128 fl oz, wedged between a shattered Greek yogurt and a crushed thing of candy beans. Like a cat I snuck into the fowl-smelling ice cave, my huge head avoiding the girders and the rafters on all sides. Extending my arm, my fingers grazed the dewy exterior of the Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 Gallon, 128 fl oz, slipping at first until finally grabbing hold of its sturdy, milk-filled handle. As I yanked at it it resisted at first, but I persisted like one rescuing a kitten from the top of a tree. I brought freedom to the Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 Gallon, 128 fl oz, and had no problem paying the $69.99 for it at the register. My housemates and I are now safe in our living room, warming our hands at the burning Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 Gallon, 128 fl oz in our fireplace.
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This is pretty good milk, but I can only grant 3 stars. Why? The current edition doesn't appear to work on the Amazon Kindle, which is surprising considering Amazon's push to make the Kindle ubiquitous. I guess I'll have to wait even longer to enjoy my milk on the go.
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There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every milk party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of Tuscan Whole Mile at a milk lounge.
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It is appalling to me that anybody would think that Tuscan milk would be anywhere near as good as good old fashioned American milk! These colors don't run!
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I ordered this milk thinking it was from Tucson, but when it arrived it didn't taste anything like milk from Tucson. That's when I took another look at the label.
It's good milk, it just wasn't what I thought I was ordering.
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This is by far the best "Milk" on the market. Just please, please don't ask how many Tuscans have to be milked to get a gallon, or which of their parts are actually being milked.
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