While living in Masaryk Towers in Manhattan, Mom and Dad bought dry milk for never-asked/never-explained reasons: cost? availability? nutrition? something else? Mom amazed me by adding water to my cereal and suddenly it was milk.
Once I needed more milk for the remaining cereal and Mom was busy (my baby sister?). I went to the bathroom sink and added water, just like she would. The result: a watery, soppy, tasteless gruel.
She apparently felt pity for me, giving me a fresh bowl. It was years before I was old enough to understand.
After moving to Iowa, with its abundance of dairy farms, it was only real, occasionally unpasteurized, milk.
