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 »