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I’ve noticed that something visceral happens in the moment when I’m about to smear butter onto a muffin, a piece of bread, a croissant…  it’s a moment of pure giddiness!  For me there’s nothing better than the simple pleasure of butter, or as the French call it:  buerre.

My friend Marcy says it with an exaggerated R- so it becomes buerrrrrre.  Even when you say it, you have to relish the moment.

When I was in Paris I would buy butter at the Monoprix, Le Gran Epicerie and at the market on Sundays.  I carefully examined the different kinds of butter we used in school.  I even managed to smuggle some Buerre Bordier  (http://www.lebeurrebordier.com/) into my suitcase on my trip home. Read the rest of this entry »