Because I don’t learn from experience. Or transfer that learning to other things. Or I’m too curious. Somehow or another, I’m sure it’s a character flaw.

Anyway. I stood up from the computer yesterday, turned to Daughter and said, “Hey! I think you should make chocolate chip cookies! I’ll supervise.” She looked at me like I’d lost my mind, and took a nap.

I got up this morning (late, I admit – close to 8), went for a 2 1/2 mile walk, made coffee and steel-cut oatmeal, read the paper, did a quick scan of computer depression, and settled in to make a couple more little birdies. So, when Daughter rolled out of be at around 11:30, I just wasn’t as impressed as I could have been. The resulting lecture culminated with, “Your inertia is sucking the life from my soul. You have to get some kind of ambition.” Surprisingly, she went back into her room. Somedays, I even impress myself.

So, back to the cookies. I haul the Kitchenaide out from under the cupboard, chip away at the lump ‘o brown sugar to get 3/4 cup, and then realize we’re almost out of butter. BUT, we do have a pint of heavy whipping cream that got left out on the counter overnight a week or so back that I’ve been saving. To Monkey Around With.

A few weeks ago, somebody linked to this video on how quick and fun and scientific it is to make your own butter. And on cue, here is my own little perfect storm; a need for cookies, which in turn need butter, and all the ingredients necessary.

I poured the cream into the jar, cover the top with plastic wrap held down with a rubber band, and start thunking it. (It turns out you don’t shake butter, you whack the cream into the end of the jar, smashing all the butterfat particles into one lump.) I watch that 6-minute video, which tells me this should only take a few minutes. I watch another one, where the guy uses a food processor, and says it only takes a few minutes. That video uses up about 5 minutes. I watch a video on fuel additives. At this point we have whipped cream, a noble end in itself, but not butter. I give up and take a goodly amount of whipped cream out of the jar and leave Daughter to have at it. In about 3 minutes, voila, or kaboom, or something. Butter.

(nota bene; I’m thinking the cream should have still been at room temperature, and that you should only use a half-pint instead of a whole pint. If I do it again, I’ll let you know.)

Anyway. Cookies are made. Plans for dinner and tomorrow’s breakfast are hatched. I realize we’re going to need more butter.

That guy with that book, Michael Pollan and “Food Rules”? says you can eat all the junkfood you want, as long as you make it yourself. I think for me, butter better come under that rule.

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