butter in action; oatmeal raisin whoopie pies with orange buttercream filling

First Thought, Explanation

It seems to me that I have entered a more "calm" period of my life--that is that I am involved in nothing structured, without any major commitments, and there is no definitive end/start date to what I am doing. I am in a period of Strangelove. Meaning, I am enjoying it, I think. It would seem logical that I would choose to write during the sections of my life that were daily chock full of stories, interesting experiences, and revelations. But I was way too busy being involved in said revelations to pause and write. And lets be honest, when I did pause, I fell asleep. Now that I have more than enough time to write, the challenge is to find something I feel is interesting enough to write about, without spiraling down into the overly personal. I have ruminated over themes and clever prompts, and after feeling unsatisfied and slightly discouraged that I was losing my love of writing, I have decided to saunter forward without and real direction. I am wide open to whatever whim wanders through my mind. I have promised myself to explore any resonating thought.

The first thing to come to mind that stuck was butter. (greased my wheels?) Yes, butter. Hence, the title. My mother, a Spanish teacher, taught me that the Spanish word for butter is "mantequilla;" and the pneumonic device she taught me to remember it with was "meant-to-kill-ya." It should then be no surprise to you that I  was reared on margarine, and more recently, a non-dairy product which claims to have all of the important attributes of butter without the artery-clogging fat.  A cursory glance at any information regarding margarine would lead anyone to discover it's nasty. I don't even want to go over its slim separation from plastic, its origins in plumping up poultry, and its oddly bright color--I ate that stuff for years. I have actually been told I was the kid that ate butter--ahem, margarine-- right off the dish. (I do not recollect this, an obvious yet to be discovered side affect of margarine--selected memory loss). My health conscious family wised up a bit to "M" and moved on to something healthier….another butter substitute.  This substance (which shall remain nameless) is a "buttery spread" made with non-hydrogenated somethings. (It was endorsed by Regis Philbin, for crying out loud.) Each time my mother brings it home, it seems to be a different variety: "olive oil," "added calcium," and "reduced fat." Butter has never engaged in such nonsense. It has never had to masquerade as something to try and prove what it is--tasty, natural, and simply necessary for good baking. It was actually my recent rekindled love of  baking that solidified my love for butter, and has since caused me to reject the Non-Hydrogenated. 

The problem with baking with anything that tries to be "butter" in sheep's clothing is that it lets you down. For years I pointed the finger of blame for mediocre cookies back at myself. Flat, lifeless, bland;  all for the sake of being slightly less fattening. I can clearly recall the distinct day of my liberation, my coming of age,  the event that if in a movie would have been heavily soundtracked by climactic cult rock. I had a recipe for pumpkin Whoopie Pies that I simply did not want to mess up. Something in the back of my head always knew it would be better with butter, vaguely recalling a rendition of  my friend Elizabeth's, "it's betta with feta!" But in this case I replaced the last word with "butta!" (You follow?) The problem being we never had any of that fattening substance in the house! At the grocery store, I looked for the butter that I gathered to be the most fattening--if I am going real, I am going real. I selected something that said it was European. They know how to get real. 

I approached baking with butter in mystified wonder. Handling it with care, I took it delicately out of its wrapping. Placing it on the counter, I stood staring at it and wondering, "what in the hell is considered 'room temperature?!'" Panicked to do it right, I check periodically on the butter, as if it were going to tell me the information I wanted; "Yup Clare, 'bout five more minutes and I will be at my most optimal temperature. You are doin' just fine, sweetie." I smile lovingly at the butter, thanking it for its reassurance; we high-five, then I throw it into the batter, at appropriate intervals. 

The result was a baking success. An amazing rise, texture, and taste. I was converted. I am stepping out in a new direction. Butter, for the win. It is now present in my every baking venture, and shall henceforth inevitably and merrily join me on my hips. Despite the fact that I probably glow in the dark due to the irreversible years of margarine consumption, my days in the dark are over.

This caused me to think of all the other pseudo stuff we eat and create to avoid the fact that we as a nation have a problem controlling ourselves. To eliminate one perceived problem, we create another. The result is more chemically modified foods, misconceptions and ignorance, and countless health problems. Just a thought. 

Butter, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship…