Back before you could buy it in a sleek 8 oz can, a Whynatte was made by hand. There were no cans, no late night forklift rides, no swimsuit models eating pistachios, and no convenience stores, For that matter, nothing about traditional Whynatte preparation was convenient. Unless you consider having to draw an urn of hot coals while walking through a scorpion nest “convenient.” It was hard labor, but in the end the payoff was worth the effort.

There is still a small group of agrarians, for lack of a better term, who prefer to make their Whynattes the old fashioned way. For the most part they live on farms, and shun the big city. They are adept at breeding show cattle, harvesting barnacles, and building barns. Rarely are they seen off the farm, and even more rarely are they caught on camera.

Until now.

Take an exclusive peek into the life of an old fashioned Whynatte farmer:

Tools of the trade. A jar of glue, and some sort of ancient milk frothing machine:

Thricefold, Jebidiah would lay out the morning Whynattes on the table:

I don’t remember the latte farmers looking like this when I was growing up on the lactose ranch:

And while the preparation of a Whynatte may have evolved over the years, the method of consumption remains the same. If you’re just joining us, this is actually how the Whynattes were made in the old days:

There are more of these reclusive Whynatte drinkers out there than you might think. They harvest in small groups, and wear tight fitting fleeces. In the end, they keep the tradition of the Whynatte alive, so that one day our children’s children will know what it used to mean to “take the hatchet to a Whynatte.”