A fierce debate is being waged in New Hampshire. Two opposing factions are facing off, staring each other down, digging into the trenches for what may prove to be a long bloody public debate fraught with emotion. Is it health care? Taxes? Gay marriage? A state law that would finally require all motorcyclists to don helmets?
No, this battle is brewing over the declaration of New Hampshire’s official state beverage (here). Last week, a statehouse hearing was held over Senate Bill 1206, which would name apple cider as New Hampshire’s beverage. A group of elementary school students from Jaffrey testified on apple cider’s behalf: it’s regional, it’s nutritious, and it would be unique among state beverages.
Opposing the bill are a group of hell-raisers from Giford, who contend that milk should be New Hampshire’s state beverage, despite the fact that 18 other states have already annointed themselves with milk. Milk supporters claim that milk is healthier than apple cider and that it plays an important part of New Hampshire history — weak arguments that do not completely divert suspicions that this counter-movement is the work of a powerful milk lobby that seeks any advantage, however token, in this challenging economic environment for dairy.
I am totally opposed to milk becoming New Hampshire’s state beverage. First of all, when I think of New England dairy, I think of Vermont. Second of all, when I think of New Hampshire, I think of freezing my butt off in the White Mountains in all seasons of the year. Never once have I climbed a mountain and wished for a glass of milk.
I studied the list of state beverages on Wikipedia. Many of the milk states are places that I’d never associate with milk production. For example, New York (no Cosmopolitian or the Long Island Iced Tea?), Kentucky (despite being known worldwide for its bourbon) and both Carolinas (moonshine). A deadlock evidently occurred in Nebraska, which has two state beverages: milk and Kool-Aid (invented by an industrious Nebraskan who engineered it into a powder to save of shipping costs, a feat that was still not enough to overcome milk’s electoral grip).
Perhaps the lamest state beverage is Indiana, which inexplicably chose water. Hear ye, hear ye! Our state beverage is water! Oh, I’m sure Indiana had some rationale — austerity perhaps, or wanting to pay tribute to the most vital of all beverages, or maybe water was the surprise upset darkhorse victor in a showdown between Sprite and lighter fluid.
There are a number of All-American beverages that have yet to be claimed. Who wants to be representin’ for Slim Fast, Crystal Light, Jolt cola, and Tang? Iowa has yet to chose a state beverage, so I’ll proffer corn syrup.
Massachusettes opted for cranberry juice, even though we’re only the second largest producer of cranberries (Wisconsin is the cranberry king, but they, of course, are a milk state). Cranberry juice is the logical choice, which is one of the reasons why I like living here. Massachusetts selects such duh state emblems — the state flower is the Mayflower, the state fish is the cod, the state dog is the Boston terrier, the state dessert is the Boston creme pie, the state muffin is the corn muffin, and the state cookie is the chocolate chip (invented at the Toll House restaurant in Whitman in 1930). Hear that, America? The chocolate chip cookie is ours, so just back the fuck up.
