Some cream was purchased, poured into the glass container, the lid screwed on and the handle cranked till the cream went from whipped to split. The butter milk was then poured off (great for scones, incidentally) and the solids drained of the remaining liquid. This was then "washed" with cold water to ensure all of the buttermilk was gone. A little salt was added. I now have 4 ramekins of butter sitting in the fridge. I don't think I have ever eaten so much toast!
 |
| Butter and my Christmas present |
Over the past few days, I have been wondering why I blog. I have no aspirations to be a full time food writer, though I am delighted when anyone reads my ramblings and almost overjoyed when they comment. However, one of the main reasons why I blog is that it is unedited.
This can, however, cause its own issues. It has been pointed out that in my last post, there was an amusing spelling error. Just to clarify: At no stage was there any giggling from my roast potatoes at Christmas, just a little jiggling. Though if I had been grown in a beautiful organic field, gently peeled and par boiled, in preparation to be roasted in a duck fat rendered from an organic, free range bird, then I might afford my self a wry smile of superiority if not actually out right laughter.
Much, much more important than exposing poor proof reading, the fact that we bloggers have no editors means that one reads exactly what has been written by the blogger, warts 'n' all.
I revel in that freedom, and consequently, when I read entries from many months ago I also cringe at the mistakes and the lack of cohesion in my ramblings.
My New Year wish to you all is that you live your lives unedited.
Je suis Charlie
