What is an Alaskan Girl to Do?

I have been a brand loyal consumer since I noticed my first idol, the cute skater bunny, as I sat in my lunch room sipping a half pint of milk chocolate milk nearly forty-years ago. They took the swelt skater off the box, I was sorely disappointed. She looked so happy, athletic, pure, the ideal Alaskan young woman.

Then they changed the formula for their distinctive milk chocolate milk. Now, instead of a creamy delight made thick with tapioca flour for a consistency reminiscent of a melted chocolate milk shake, it tastes like every other chocolate milk in the case. I stopped drinking it, every time I did I felt angry for the loss of a flavor I associated with some of the best times of my youth. My daughter still drinks it though, by the pint.

I want to buy Mat Maid milk, but since I returned from college, sometimes it doesn't taste good. It didn't taste creamy and wholesome, it tasted funky, with a strange after taste. Reminded me of some milk I tasted once in California, in an area where the cows grazed next to the freeway.

When I was young, we once hit the jackpot and got a gallon of Mat Maid that wasn't well pasteurized, and there was actually cream at the top. We sat next to the oil stove in the kitchen, and my grandmother told me about how my grandfather used to work for the creamery when they were first married, how he would drive around town collecting the milk from all the farmers, faithful dog chasing behind him. His milk truck was the vehicle they drove up the Alcan highway while it was still being built. She had four small children, a couple still in diapers, and was pregnant. The trip took over a month.

I can still recall Grandma Mom's smile as she recalled our local dairy owner would put blankets on his cows in the winter to keep them warm, nothing was to good for Herman Leirer's cows. With a great deal of pride she told me about how honorable a man he was, when his dairy went under he didn't go bankrupt, he worked as a garbage man for years to pay off all the debt. If a bear knocked over the can, Herman would be sure to pick up all the garbage from the ground, and would return your cans to the porch for you. Grandma Mom pulled the cream and give me a mini-lesson in how butter was made. Spread it over her homemade bread, still warm from the oven.

I want to buy Mat Maid milk, but when I go to the local Carrs-Safeway grocery store it is usually looking awfully lonely on the shelf. A handful of yellow plastic jugs amidst row after row of empty shelves. Would prefer to only buy half a gallon in a paper container, since rice milk has invaded my household to meet the needs of the lactose intolerant, but no half gallons ever seem to be available.

And that's not all that isn't there, other Alaskan products are conspicuously missing. There is no Alaskan ice cream, even though there are several manufacturers in the state that put out a quality commercial product. Fresh Taco Loco chips and salsa, nope. There are Thunder Chips, on the ground, by your feet. What is that product placement all about? How are local companies supposed to develop market share if the retail sellers aren't helping them out a bit?

No Alaskan dog food, chews, treats or leashes. No Alaskan bottled water. No Sweet Darlings candy, even though it is freshly made less than a mile from the store. The only sacked potatoes offered come from Washington. Those bagged plain bagels aren't from Alaska either, and I know they make them here as well. The only thinly-sliced salmon is farmed Atlantic.

Tens of thousands of tourists shop that store every summer, hungry and thirsty for a taste of Alaska. Alaskans shop it year round, and I am confident I am not the only one who would like to buy local, support the local economy, and support state self-sufficiency. And lets not forget all those feel-good folks who want to buy local because of all the natural resources it saves in shipping.

I want to buy Mat Maid milk, could you please stock the shelves?