Butter is a ubiquitous staple in my house. There is always a soft stick on the counter and a pound or two waiting in the refrigerator. On the rare occasion when the supply dwindles, a quiet panic takes over when I unwrap the last stick– kind of like running out of toilet paper.
It's been fun— to say the least— having infused butters on hand to play with. Instead of inspiring new dishes, they proved their usefulness by elevating the everyday food that I cook for myself and my family. Whenever I questioned whether it was worth the extra work to make my own butter— whether cultured, flavor-infused, caramelized (or should I say Maillardized?), or smoked— I had only to swirl a knob into a pan of steamed or pureed vegetables, pasta, or rice. Sauces were transformed. Ordinary baked goods took on flavors and aromas that seemed to breathe new life into them. Even a morning slice of toast gave cause to linger.
And if there were still any doubt, having fresh buttermilk on hand sweetens the deal. Chicken, marinated in smoked buttermilk prior to frying, convinced me that smoked butter should will be a staple.
Maybe I say that now because the imminent cold equates the flavor of smoke with the warmth of hearth.
Or maybe it was the chocolate chip cookies made with smoked butter?
Naw, I'm pretty sure that the salad with the smoked ranch dressing and bbq cornbread croutons cemented the deal.
Playing with Fire and Water 