These days, I eat bread just for the butter.  I lather it on like frosting.  It’s the cold fall air (or maybe it’s the creamy, fatty butter, which if I’m being honest, tastes good in every season).  It wasn’t always this way.  I grew up in a household that spread butter scantly on toast, never on corn, and sometimes stocked the fridge with margarine (the “healthy” choice).

Then I discovered Weston A. Price and the value of fat.  Then I got pregnant, and said give me that butter!  And I haven’t kicked the habit.  And frankly I don’t see a need to.

Julia Child famously said, “with enough butter, anything is good.”  To those unsure, she said, “if you’re afraid of butter, use cream,” and also, “fat gives things flavor.”

Aside from all this, butter is beautiful.  So last night as I made gluten-free apple-carrot muffins (recipe to come), whipping two sticks of softened butter and sugar together, I had to stop and just admire the creamy golden waves.

This morning I fried a muffin in more butter, and the sweet salty fat of that butter?  It was delicious.