butter butter, y’all

Well, it’s been a while. I cannot, in total honesty, say a lot has been happening around here. I discovered Netflix and Amazon Prime Videos almost simultaneously and I have to confess, it’s a great thing I didn’t discover Alias or The West Wing until after completing my formal education. SoulCycle happened. Sourdough happened and, suffice it to say, it was very time consuming at the onset.

But more on that later, because have I got a story for you.

A few nights ago I met a bearded Californian who I decided could not go any longer in his life without seeing my recipe illustrations. I think it’s fair to say the great American lager was the third participant in this conversation, but let’s not digress. Did I care I was showing an art-creative type (hey, some people find labels offensive. and tiresome. and totally confusing) who draws fantastic Tim Burton-esque characters my ridiculous sketches? Don’t be silly, I had the great American lager on my side. And can I just say – he loved them. Okay, he said he loved them, but I’m willing to bet there were a few other things he would have loved to see, too.

Full disclosure and all.

Anyway. I had more or less written off that period in my short life as a blogger. Sure they were fun and all, but those, ahem, sketches required a lot more of my time than I am willing to admit. I’ve been drawing the same profiles since I was 12. Seriously. It’s certainly easier to just link over to a recipe I may have riffed on and share some internet love. We sat at the bar a while longer, him asking for more illustrations and me grinning stupidly with delusions of grandeur as promises of publication danced in the air (much like sugar plum fairies). It was at this point our bearded hero imparted valuable, yet morbid, life advice: We’re all going to die soon anyway, stop being so damn self-critical! I hate to admit it, but this holds a great degree of validity as far as I’m concerned. He also told me I am So. Adorable!, so I’m going to take everything he said as law. I can be cerebral to a fault, and as long as I have my wits about me, I try to find the perfect word to suit any given situation (ie, I just Googled the grammatical correctness of “any given”. I think I’m in the clear). It’s not realistic or healthy, and sometimes, I have to just let things be. This is a challenge I’ve given myself – a mid-year resolution, if you will.

And so, I’m digging this bad boy out of the A Reasonable Person Would Be Embarrassed file. I drew this recipe sometime in the fall of 2011, when I was very keen on jamming and being as self-sufficient in the kitchen as possible. Realizing I could make my own butter, something so basic, was an absolute revelation. I haven’t done it in ages, but as far as kitchen science experiments go, I’d like to think it would at least garner two thumbs up from Alton Brown. I know my mother was proud.








How’d I do, mom?

PS: I received a lot of gentle nudging, and some not-so-gentle-but-still-meant-with-love nudging over the past few weeks to start writing again. Thank you.

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