I am taking a three week break from school right now because of a certain high school reunion I had plans to attend when enrolling in culinary school. Honestly, it's a bit of toture and my knife hand is itching to go out and buy a ten pound bag of carrots to brunois. So I am soothing my cooking jones by spending all of my time talking about food, class, knives, rouxs, etc. It's bound to get annoying. But I find most people will listen to my nattering as long as I am actually cooking for them. Consequentially, I've been baking a lot.
One recent conversation went as so (it's not verbatim, but close enough):
Me: Blah, blah, cooking stuff, BUTTER!
Friend: Oh really?
Me: Butter, butter butter.
Friend: You know, you talk a lot about butter.
And it's true. That entire week I probably talked about butter about as much as sauces, perhaps even more since butter, by itself, can be a sauce. It wasn't always like this. Like most women, I had cut butter out of my life a long while back and used it only sparingly and with solid conviction that the butter was trying to undermine me. But, seeing what the correct amount of butter can do to a dish is amazing. There's a fascinating amount of sauces you can make with butter and a few additives. I'm sure eventually my infatuation will cool and I'll start making stuff without butter in it. But for now, I sticking with the gold stuff.
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In response to this post, I went out and bought a vegan chef cookbook.
ReplyDeleteI am nothing if not contradictory.
Here here! Long live butter!
ReplyDeleteButterby Elizabeth Alexander
My mother loves butter more than I do,
more than anyone. She pulls chunks off
the stick and eats it plain, explaining
cream spun around into butter! Growing up
we ate turkey cutlets sauteed in lemon
and butter, butter and cheese on green noodles,
butter melting in small pools in the hearts
of Yorkshire puddings, butter better
than gravy staining white rice yellow,
butter glazing corn in slipping squares,
butter the lava in white volcanoes
of hominy grits, butter softening
in a white bowl to be creamed with white
sugar, butter disappearing into
whipped sweet potatoes, with pineapple,
butter melted and curdy to pour
over pancakes, butter licked off the plate
with warm Alaga syrup. When I picture
the good old days I am grinning greasy
with my brother, having watched the tiger
chase his tail and turn to butter. We are
Mumbo and Jumbo’s children despite
historical revision, despite
our parent’s efforts, glowing from the inside
out, one hundred megawatts of butter.
Ah. So much more eloquently put than I.
ReplyDelete