Sunday, September 23, 2012

Smooth Like Buttah, Dahhhhling

I love dairy. Love it. LOVE IT. But I don't keep dairy products in my house and I don't indulge very often. My eldest son has a life-threatening dairy allergy so we are a mostly dairy-free family, by virtue. So on the rare-ish occasions that I do indulge in dairy products, it's only the best. Wheels of brie that have been lovingly wrapped in bakery-fresh puff pastry and baked to a golden brown, smothered in a decadent layer of plum preserves. Yes, tears will run down your cheeks - you will actually cry, it's That Good. Pints of the most expensive ice cream I can find, eaten while hiding in the laundry room - even when the kids aren't home. I can't help it, I feel guilty. And cheesecake. Heavenly, soul-soothingly delicious cheesecake. I may need to take a moment to collect myself before going any further.

Before I get any more carried away, I want to share with you my latest foray into Dairy Decadence. I happen to have two pints of organic heavy whipping cream sitting idle in my fridge, a creamy carrot chowder was not to be had, apparently. Just as well, though, because I have a vivid memory that has haunted me with her delights since Mr. Staut's seventh grade agriculture class; we made butter. That's right, we churned up some butter whilst engaged in the learning process at our tables.

We held out our small glass jars for him to sprinkle a pinch of salt in the bottom and cover it with a generous layer of farm-fresh heavy cream. Then we screwed on our lids and shook the bejeezus out of that cream, shocking ourselves with the eventual turn to creamy, silky, salty-sweet butter. Seriously, we fricking made butter in a jar. In the middle of Ag Studies. Totally unceremonious and simple, the results were mind boggling. Clearly, because I haven't forgotten that day and it's been nearly 17 years.

So with my abundance of heavy cream and an evening full of homework and not much else, I shook up a batch of the most amazing, mouth-watering, makes-you-want-to-eat-toast-for-every-meal butter. From the comfort of my living room, specifically, my exceedingly comfortable "new" couch. I can't remember the last time I was so excited to have plain, buttered toast for breakfast. Notably absent was a steaming hot cup of coffee; a trip to the grocery store tomorrow is in high demand.

Whole wheat toast with homemade butter: it just feels right.  http://instagr.am/p/P6_tYYrwvn/

3 comments:

  1. You have a great writing style. I was enchanted. I saw little to critic so I hope it is o.k with Jocelyn. You seem to have a flair for the blog.
    As a lover of butter myself, in fact, all things butter all the time, I can fully appreciate your zest for dairy. My tummy does not tolerate much, but I can, and do, eat butter. A lb every three days in fact. My daughter and I used to whip up butter in a jar too, and spread it on crackers. It is so good. My favorite butter meal is steamed fresh artichokes and hot melted butter for dip.
    Thank you for your piece, it was enjoyable.

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  2. What a great read. I was easily wrapped up into your dairy delight of a dreamy, buttery world. I like that you brought the two worlds of your children's allergies and your class where you made butter together. You show that it's hard to give up the dairy, but when you indulge you go all the way. The picture adds to your writing and show's the reader how proud you are of your yummy treat!

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  3. You are a natural blogger (Whew! Your dream lives!), with easy, confident writing that pulls us in. I was left gasping that it's never occurred to me to try to make butter in a Mason jar, in fact.

    If I have one suggestion, it would be that I rather would like to be involved, as a reader, in the period of shaking and shaking. You could expand that part, including a litany of the things you do to amuse yourself and keep up the shaking ("Stare in bathroom mirror. Imagine Self with blue hair. Look at floor. Wish the Mop Fairy would come. Shake seventy-nine more times. Cry a little.").

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