In this modern day and age, one where we can buy everything online, including our groceries, and it’s possible to never have to actually speak to another person again (that’s what email and IMing is for!), I think it’s very easy to idealize an agrarian lifestyle. Or at least I do. I dream of waking up from my restful slumber on the farm to the mournful mooing of fat cows, udders full , waiting to be milked. Or stopping by the hen house, gaggles of cluckers ready to be pushed aside in order to collect still-warm eggs. Yes, the smell of hay, the sweat of manual labor, and tons of steaming manure, can seem attractive.
When I was reading the Sunday NY Times a few weeks back, ignoring the salsa music coming from the street below, and sipping on a delicious cup of bodega/deli coffee, I spied Daniel Patterson’s recipe in the magazine section for fresh, homemade butter. I squealed with glee, my high-pitched emoting blending in perfectly with the jangle of the salsa music. Here was my opportunity to become my very own milkmaid , never having to leave the comforts of my couch in New York City. I ran out to the store to buy the only ingredient, a quart of heavy cream.
Who knew that making butter would be so simple, and so satisfying? All that is required is block of time, and a heavy duty mixer. Have you ever whipped cream into pillowy mounds to top your favorite dessert? Well imagine doing that, but not stopping when the cream reaches the desired billowy stage. There you have butter. (For anyone who would like to become an urban/suburban milkmaid themselves, Luisa has the complete recipe, with pictures, on her blog.)
As the minutes pass, and as you continue whipping that cream, just as you are about to wonder if anything will happen, little pebbles of butter emerge from the watery whey, which I learned is actually buttermilk. Then, there is draining, and some kneading (which I will admit is a little bizarre), in order to release even more buttermilk from the butter, yet in a matter of moments you have it– pure, rich, butter. And you can say that you made it.
The butter was good, not delicious, but very good. Light, unsalted, sweet, and it didn’t taste a bit like the fridge, always a dangerous threat when buying butter at the store these days. But the thing that was most gratifying about this little experiment, was just knowing that you made the butter, something we buy so readily, and may take for granted, yourself.
The original article, had a recipe for pea and mint soup, made with the buttermilk the butter produced. Sounds good right? Well, I didn’t end up making the pea soup, but stay tuned for what I did make.
