More Butter, Please

Who knew today is National Butter Day. I honestly can’t think of any other food product to celebrate more than butter. Full stop. I know there are some ultra-healthy people out there who avoid a love affair with butter, but that would not be me.

It’s only fitting that with the holiday cooking frenzy about to embark, we think about how butter makes everything better. My husband’s slow cooked scrambled eggs in butter are simply enchanting. Mashed potatoes become the culinary equivalent of a comfy sofa when butter is added. Cookies made with butter can charm any sleepy afternoon; not to mention a pie crust with flakes of butter baked to a golden brown is the best encasement for any sort of filling. The best kinds of pies have both a bottom and top layer of crust. I say bring on the apple pies. Lest we get too caught up in Holiday treats, we can’t forget melted butter dripping from corn on-the-cob that makes me long for a summertime dinner on the back porch. Butter is like the silent partner that makes everything better.

Despite my Irish heritage, while growing up I ask myself why butter was such a rare treat in my house? Was it that margarine was cheaper? My guess is yes. Or maybe in those days, butter was considered “unhealthy.” I’m not sure who was in charge of that nutritional malpractice. Regardless, I remember butter as a delicacy. When it was in the house, my parents put butter on everything, and not just a sliver. My dad used to take a quarter inch thick piece of Pepperidge Farm thin toast and put an inch of butter on it. He didn’t even spread it with a knife which meant he needed more butter to cover the surface of everything from that piece of toast to a warmed sesame hard roll. Baked potatoes were smothered in butter and then when the potato flesh was scraped from the potato skins, more butter was slathered to make a potato skin and butter sandwich. My mom, even though she didn’t sauté much, cooked  everything in butter when she could. Whether it was French toast for breakfast or a grilled cheese for lunch, everything tasted better when cooked with butter. And for my mom, butter on a roll meant the preserves made an appearance as well. At least in my world, there was no such thing as an olive oil presence in our kitchen. And of course, because we were Irish to the core, every dinner had some sort of bread which usually meant more butter.

I’m sure many of you can think about that one ingredient that connects you to your heritage. For me, it’s butter. I’m pretty sure I’m passing on the Irish love of butter to my grandkids. My one grandson in particular seems to have bottomless pit of a stomach when it comes to toast with butter.

And so today, I’m thinking I’ll enjoy every meal with butter because on a day of national celebration status, you just gotta indulge. Oh, and by the way, I also just noticed that today is not only National Butter Day, but it is also National Homemade Bread Day. Whoever’s in charge of national celebrating is pretty smart. Now I’m really happy. I plan to totally embrace the celebrations today, and will hope that tomorrow is National Celery Stick Day just in case my overall intestinal equilibrium needs to regroup.