I'm slowly becoming some food nut. Food obsessed. And not to eat, necessarily. To prepare. Create. Serve. And entertain.
I get a new Food & Wine mag and I get all panicky with ideas. I look through Cook's Illustrated to see how I can further improve an already triedandtrueandprettydamngood roasted chicken or broiled skirt steak. I thumb through a Gourmet and scheme up some highfalutin menu for me and maybe two or three others.
Call it a hobby. Call it something I hope to really perfect when the kids are gone. Call it the one creative avenue I feel confident about. I totally dig everything about food. And I love to cook.
And within this radar comes a focus on the simple or plain or prosaic in my food fixation. I'm all over this fleur de sel. Salt. Just plain salt - that happens to come with a wonderful and unique texture. Adding a very simple ingredient does wonders to whatever.
Now it's butter. Really good butter. We had butter aplenty in Brussels. Colby and Maia would have baguette avec beurre for breakfast. And this butter was amazingly gentle to the tongue. Unsalted, of course - because then you can add your own salt. It was and is all about just regular, daily butter. In Brussels it was President Beurre. This bewitching brick of butter was simply otherworldly.
And I happened upon this President Beurre at our local TJ's aka Trader Joe's aka Trader Ho's.