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| Maine. Pretty far north. |
Garrison Keillor, in a long ago News From Lake
Wobegone segment on Prairie Home Companion, made the comforting observation
that the further north you go, the smarter people get. There are certainly
abundant examples to support and disprove that statement but having now
returned to the north after five years away, I think I have acquired a level of
gravitas appropriate to truly appreciate the wisdom of that wit. In other
words, we’ve been in Maine two months now and have yet to slap our foreheads in
disbelief over the idiocy of our new land.
In Austin, our pates were frequently black and blue. In Florida, we resorted to wearing head
gear. For now, we are enjoying the clear
thinking. Mind you, we had a close
encounter in Hannaford’s supermarket a few weeks ago that reminded us nothing
lasts forever.
It all started with chocolate milk.
The state of Texas has a lot of things to be proud
of but one of my most treasured jewels is Promised Land Dairy’s MidnightChocolate milk. It is the stuff of
epiphanies and has set the standard by which all other chocolate milks shall
forever be judged. When we left Austin for Florida, we lamented leaving some
dear friends, Mandola’s Italian Market, Salt Lick Barbecue, HEB’s Central
Market and Midnight Chocolate Milk. Nothing in Florida was even remotely close,
though what was surely a gift from the universe was a lone bottle of Promised
Land at a posh grocery store in Sarasota. We only ever saw it there that once.
It was in the spirit of that eternal quest that I
found myself standing in front of the Smiling Hill Farm cooler at the grocery
store. Smiling Hill Farm is a 12th generation dairy farm in
Westbrook that provides its milk in glass bottles similar to those of bygone
days when your dairy products were delivered to your door. I had tried their chocolate milk years ago
and remembered it was pretty tasty. I
also remembered that I’d been surprised at the checkout to find out there was a
one- dollar deposit on that bottle. Back
then, I had intended to keep the bottle to use for a vase so I just factored
the deposit into the price and thought no more about it.
But now here I was contemplating Smiling Hill under
slightly different circumstances. I was
making a conscious decision to support a local business along with hoping for a
super bottle of brown moo. Vaguely
remembering a deposit, I started to investigate. There is no sign on the special Smiling Hill cooler
stating there is a required deposit, let alone the hefty dollar amount. There is no sticker on the bottle nor on the
lid. What there is is miniscule print at
the bottom of the bottle’s silk screened label that says “Wash and return for
deposit.” It might show up as readable with regular milk in the bottle but with
chocolate milk, or devoid of liquid, you’ve got to do some serious looking with
young eyes to see that. Despite the fact
that the product was already a bit more expensive than the standard brands
available, Jamie encouraged me to grab a bottle in the spirit of exploration. I
did so and we headed up front to check out.
Or shall I call it an informational incident.
First I was told that all bottles and cans in Maine
have deposits but that most redemption centers won’t take Smiling Hill Farm
bottles. I’m quite familiar with Maine’s
Bottle Bill, my father having worked for Seltzer & Rhydholm, bottlers of
Pepsi Cola in Portland, for 42 years and myself an avid roadside collector of
tossed bottles and cans which I’ve parlayed into tanks of gas and plane tickets
to Europe. I was pretty sure that milk was something that didn’t require a
state deposit regardless of how it was packaged.
When I asked if I could bring the bottle back to
Hannaford I was told no, they didn’t refund Smiling Hill deposits. I would have to join the CLYNK program. When
I asked what the CLYNK program was, I got a look of incredulity and the fateful
branding-iron comment of dismissal plied with disdain upon those unfortunate
enough to not have been born, raised, and lived their entire lives in the
obvious center of the universe:
Oh, you’re not from around here.
I was tempted to let her know that I was from around
here for 42 of my 47 years but I couldn’t argue with the fact that I didn’t
know what the hell CLYNK was and how it stood between me and my $1.50 refund so
I kept my mouth shut and let the maelstrom descend. The young woman who was the shift leader and
bagging at the next register described in non-linear sentences at breakneck
speed something about signing up, getting bags, first bags free then you pay,
there’s an account, it might not register deposits for 48 hours and more that
was simply unintelligible. Then she
stopped talking, drew breath, and offered:
Or you could just drive out to the farm. It’s not that far.
Well, on a global scale, she’s right. But according
to Google Maps, it’s between 23 and 28 miles one-way to Smiling Hill Farm from
our house in Pownal. Given that gas is
$3.80 a gallon as I write this, and our Ford Tardis, Traveller, gets about 26
miles to the gallon, I’m looking at $7.60 in gas to get my $1.50 refund. Heck,
even to go home, enjoy my milk and drive back to Hannaford, sign up for CLYNK
and toss my bio-degradable CLYNK bag in the bin is a 12-mile trip at $1.90 to
eventually get my refund, which I’ll have to drive back to Hannaford after
48-hours to retrieve, bringing me back to still a loss of $3.80 in gas.
At this point at the check-out, the ball was again
in my court. Jamie sweetly paid for our
groceries as I commented to the cashier and bagger that considering the hefty
amount of the deposit, and the effort required to return the bottle for refund,
it sure would be helpful if there was some sort of signage on the Smiling Hill
Farm cooler stating at the very least that there was a $1.50 deposit required
on the bottle because it’s a bit of a shocker to see how much you actually end
up paying, especially if you’re not prepared for it.
The cashier commented that the larger bottles have a
$3.00 deposit. The bagger began her
spiel again about CLYNK or driving to Westbrook. Neither was smiling and it was clear the
content of my suggestion was a non-issue to them. Also clear was the unsaid words just at the
tips of their tongues:
No one is making you buy this stuff, lady.
I said thank you for explaining things and as I
turned to leave noticed that all the open check-out lanes were quiet and
everyone within mooing distance was giving Jamie and me the once over as we
walked out. Golly. I’d become “one of those pushy people from
away.”
Getting in the car we immediately popped the top on
that expensive little jug of milk and do you know what? It was just ok.
In the weeks that have followed, I’ve kept my eyes
open for Smiling Hill Farm products.
Shaw’s in Freeport carries it with no information on the deposit and
evidently no on-site refund options of any kind. Morning Glory Natural Foods in Brunswick
carries it with no signage about the price of deposit but there is a sign on
the front door saying you must return Smiling Hill Farms bottles to the farm
for deposit. Royal River Natural Foods in Freeport also carries the milk and
kindly has a sign about the deposit, though I don’t believe they provide
refunds there either.
It’s ironic that in an attempt to support a local
business, one that is priding itself on being careful caretakers of their land
and cattle, and bottling in glass for its benefits of taste and environmental
impact, I am actually increasing my dreaded carbon footprint, as are the many
folks who trek it out to Westbrook for their deposits. It’s also less ironic
and more, dare I say opportunistic, that the dairy is making a point to not
advertise the price of the deposit on their coolers nor urging their retailers
to be pro-active with the information.
In fact, if you go to the dairy’s website, as of this Sunday morning as
I write, the link on where to return your bottles does not work. Nowhere on the
site does it even mention paying deposits. What they do point out is that their
glass bottles are sturdy investments, some currently in circulation being over
40 years old. That in itself is really cool but still, why not just be open
about the deposit? By the way, you can
only return six Smiling Hill Farm bottles at a time and here’s why.
That same
deposit has also created an unexpected investigation by the Feds. As reported
in this 2006 article from the Lewiston Sun Journal, a clever little scam by
some industrious folks on food stamps involved buying Smiling Hill Farm milk,
which is eligible under the Food Stamp program, then returning the bottles for
the cash deposit which they then allegedly spent on booze and cigarettes, both
of which are not eligible food stamp purchases . Which just goes to prove Garrison Keillor
right. The further north you go, the
smarter people get.
As for me, I’m drinking Silk Chocolate Soymilk these
days. It’s yummy, there’s no deposit and
the empty container goes right into the recycle bin that gets picked up at the
end of my country driveway. And that
Smiling Hill Farm bottle is still sitting on the counter collecting pennies.
When I’ve saved up enough coins, I’ll buy some flowers to put in it.
(All images courtesy of Google Images searches!)
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