As is abundantly obvious to anyone with the slightest acquaintance with my medical records, I’ve never met a butter I didn’t like. Salted or unsalted; cow, goat, or sheep; French, English, Italian, American; compound or, er, singular.
However, the idea that I could make my own butter, that I could play Dr. Frankenstein to a bunch of butterfat globules, was completely lost on me during my formative years. It wasn’t until one lazy afternoon in Pittsburgh, during my sophomore year at Carnegie Mellon University, that I became aware of the possibility that is homemade butter.
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