Almost every summer, when I was a kid, I spent on the farm where my Grandmother was born, some kilometers outside Warsaw, Poland.

Coming from Long Island New York, it was like stepping back in a time machine. If you wanted to make a call you had to phone a central switchboard and they would connect you. Primitive, right? Endless fields of wheat, a swimming hole, barefoot kids, chickens in and out of the kitchen, homemade everything AND raw milk.