I’m lucky enough to have a boyfriend with a wonderful mother who provides him with raw milk from a local farm here in Eugene. A little over a week ago I came across a comical tutorial on turning the cream into butter. Today when Jered went to get a glass of milk I saw the beautiful layer of cream separated at the top & the tutorial flashed through my mind. With a burst of energy, I sprang from my seat at the sewing machine and decided it was time for a break! Pulling out one of my many recycled jars, I meticulously scooped the cream from the top, plopped it in the empty jar, and had a dance party – shaking like there was no tomorrow.
It took longer than the tutorial said it would, naturally I grew impatient. But. It finally happened. I made butter. Me, myself, and I. It’s not that big of a deal, really. People have been making butter for centuries. But who makes their own butter these days? So I was pretty stoked. I poured the buttermilk in with my open carton I purchased for the crepes, mixed in a bit of salt, and viola. Butter.
I’m kind of awesome. I know.