What was the first stop on the road to butter? See what tools old cream stations used to use to test dairy, including antique cream separators.
Some time back in letters to the editor a reader asked about a cast iron unit with places for test tubes in it. The unit is a dairy centrifuge used, in this case, to test cream for butterfat content. The process involved putting a measured amount of cream in the tube with an acid to liquify everything but the butterfat. The tubes were then spun and the butterfat rose to the top, where it was measured as a percentage of the total sample. The process is referred to as the Babcock test and it is still in use today.
With that in mind, let’s start with the cows. Brown Swiss and Jersey breeds, for example, produce milk with higher butterfat content. Conversely, Holsteins produce more milk with less butterfat. Butterfat percentages are also affected by diet. Cows on a grain ration do better than those subsisting on grass.
Years ago, farmers would harvest cream, via separator, and take the product to town to trade for cash or groceries. As time went on, cream buying stations came on the scene. Cream being shipped to, say, Chicago, suffered some in quality while in transit. Local buyers would keep cream from known (cleaner) suppliers to use in making butter for local consumption.
Antique Cream Separators
Initially, the separator was a crude affair, simply a long, narrow can with spigots on the side to take cream off as it rose to the top. Not much later, companies like DeLaval, McCormick-Deering and Galloway built units that did a much better (and quicker) job of extracting the cream. Early on, these were hand-cranked and needed to run at a relatively constant speed to ensure efficient operation.
These units were equipped with a bell in the crank end; the bell “dinged” with each revolution. Thus Dad, who was likely milking in the same room as the person cranking the separator, would know that the unit was being kept up to speed. With the advent of electricity, the speed issue vanished.
We found a Galloway machine by accident. We are in the water and well business and often find ourselves in basements. Mrs. Lutgens, a widow living in the nearby Flandreau area, was not getting enough water pressure in her house. Once inside, we noticed where copper and iron pipes joined, causing the pipe to grow closed.
While we were there, we saw an old separator in the corner and asked if we could buy it. The owner asked for $25 and volunteered memories of “Daddy” having it shipped up, likely by rail, to Flandreau via the Railway Express Agency. Because DeLaval was a major player, their agencies had a cabinet of repair parts, tools and instructions, as well as books where the agent recorded parts sold, to whom, and on what date.
From the churn to the butter worker
Now we go on to making butter, a practice that involved a churn. A barrel churn was just that: a small barrel with a gasketed lid, weighted on the bottom so it would stop upright. It was cranked by hand. One day, an elderly lady came through our museum, looked at a barrel churn and asked me, “Young man, do you know when butter is done in there?” I allowed that I did not. The lady pointed to a small, round glass window and said that when flecks of butter stick to the glass, it’s done.
As to other types of churns, Dazey was well known for its glass jars and gear-driven paddles inside, allowing you to see the progress of butter-making. Also, the jars were a lot easier to clean than a wooden cylinder or barrel churn, no matter whether they were built with white cedar or simply “good white wood,” as some companies touted.
Once churned, buttermilk needs to be worked out of the butter, either using a butter paddle in a bowl or, if you could afford one, a butter worker. In the case of Philadelphia brand, these came in four sizes, ranging from 14 to 23 inches wide and up to 3 feet long. Operation is simple: The unit was built on a slope with a drain in one corner.
The operator worked the paddle wheel over the butter, piled it up again and repeated the process as needed. Rollers beneath geared track kept the paddle wheel down on the butter. Still, in the 1800s, these units cost $2-6, which would have been a significant investment at the time. The unit shown on this page was purchased at the first farm sale held at this place, which was farmsteaded in the 1860s. So it goes.
Jim and Joan Lacey operate Little Village Farm, a museum of farm collectibles housed in 10 buildings at their home near Dell Rapids, S.D. Contact them at (605) 428-5979.
Originally published in the March 2023 issue of Farm Collector.
