I have a rule. It is this.
DON’T FUCK WITH BUTTER.
Pretty clear. Simple to understand. Easy to follow.
With apologies to the depraved who misconstrue these words, notably those fixated upon Marlon Brando’s notorious “butter scene” in Last Tango in Paris, my effrontery is aimed at restaurants rather than the bedroom.
Question: Why are people fucking with butter?
Butter is beautiful. It’s comestible gold. Butter is the essence of fabulous cooking and fine taste. Julia Child, the goddess of all goddesses, transformed cooking with butter and made it into an art form. So why would anyone dare mess it up?
Today, I witnessed an affront to Western civilization. Here’s what happened. I ordered a baked potato with my meal. A small metal ramekin came with the main course containing what appeared to be whipped butter. I hastily emptied out the precious contents of that silver chalice, which dissolved instantly into a steaming-hot baked potato. Pure heaven.
One bite and I nearly lost it. I spewed forth a dollop of indigestible baby mush into a napkin.
WHAT THE FUCK!
WHO FUCKED WITH THE BUTTER?
The waitress saw that something was very wrong. She approached. Perhaps was annoyed that a customer actually spits into their cloth napkin.
“Why does my baked potato taste so sweet?” I asked. “Did the butter go bad?”
The waitress informed that the restaurant serves something called “honey butter.” She described this monstrosity as “the house specialty.”
Honey butter?
Do you mean honey? Mixed with butter?
Are you fucking kidding me?
What sick spaced-out ass joker wants honey mixed in with his butter? What’s coming next? Mustard with maple syrup?
I fail to understand this madness. Would anyone ever order a baked potato and then ask for both butter AND honey separately? Name just one occasion in the entire recorded history of mankind when someone, somewhere has ever done this — ordering butter and honey for a baked potato. Isn’t “honey butter” exactly the same thing? That’s like ordering spaghetti with a side of hot fudge.
Pirates have taken over our kitchens. These self-absorbed narcissists watched way too many cooking shows on The Food Network. Now, they think every possible ingredient on the planet needs to be mixed together. This nauseating phenomenon has its roots in the so-called nouveau cuisine movement, which is to food as rap is to music. Let me tell you something. Honey butter isn’t nouveau. It’s shit. And I want it banned right now!
Even worse, the same believers in the honey butter heresy have spread their poisonous teachings into more twisted butter pairing alternatives. Take garlic butter, for instance. I love garlic. I can chomp entire garlic cloves like apples, one reason perhaps why no one can bear to be next to me on a hot sweaty day. But garlic is intended for sauces. GARLIC SHOULD NOT BE BLENDED IN WITH THE BUTTER!
Sacrilege!
But the very worst food crimes are committed by those pimping what I’ll call “butter substitutes.” These heretics should shot.
Listen up. If I order butter — bring me butter. REAL BUTTER. Not some amalgamation of Diacetyl and Acetoin that supposedly “tastes like” butter. It doesn’t. It tastes like chemicals, which is precisely what these toxins are. How dare you risk the world’s health by advancing the destructiveness of these deadly pretenders.
Now, reports are coming out that these chemical substitutes may cause cancer. Another report says the very same poisons used to artificially butter microwavable popcorn may advance Alzheimer’s (LINK HERE). So, if we’re all wandering out the streets someday in our pajamas and can’t remember our own names, thank the food industry and their enablers, those who are gradually driving butter towards extinction.
Here’s my golden rule. There is no acceptable substitute for real butter. Ever. Period. Exclamation point. End of story. Over and out.