A few days ago I received an invitation to my dear auntie Hilde's 90th birthday shindig.
Tante Hilde spent years in the culinary desert, ostracized by the more with-it members of the clan, because back in the day when everybody, but EVERYBODY just knew that butter was bad and margarine was good, Hilda stuck with butter.
You'd attend to some family get-together, and these always include lots and lots of food, and you'd come away from the buffet table raving about how everything was good, but Hilde's mashed potatoes were just beyond divine; the mashed potatoes of the angels, no less.
Upon hearing that, one of the wiser women of the extended family (and this food-fixation was always woman-driven as far as I can recall) would take you aside and ruin your fun with the following observation; do you have any idea how much butter she put in there?
Yup, at least a half pound of toxic cow-sourced butter in a bowl of mashed potatoes.
I spent years avoiding her mashed potatoes. My own dear mother took the butter out of damned near everything she'd ever put it in. Her once-delectable potato salad, formerly to-die-for, was never the same.
All these health nuts would gather round at the family get-togethers and one-up each other with their tales of deprivation.
"I only use extra-virgin fish oil in my cooking..."
"Oh honey, that's not good - you must use the extra-extra-virgin or you needn't even bother!"
For years I lived on a diet of kippers-on-rye and cassava root cereal. No butter. No mayo, no fluffy bread. No salami. No liverwurst, or "pate" as we call it now. No cheese except for that 4% butterfat stuff that tasted like margarine. No eggs.
And definitely no bacon!
Found a doctor down K-W way who was quick to capitalize on all this quackery. Even had his own line of health food supplements endorsed by a string of world-class athletes. His team hooked me up to a bunch of wires and made me walk on a treadmill. Found out that if I didn't switch to his supplements and walk at least an hour a day I was a goner.
Well, I kept walking. Took a pass on the supplements and the quackery though. The more I walked the more I thought to myself, what the hell, I walk so much I can probably risk a taste of butter... maybe have a poached egg once in awhile...
Before long I was back to yummy cheeses with 45% butterfat!
Bacon and eggs!
Never felt better!
Hope my dear Tante Hilde whips up a batch of her famous mashed potatoes for her 90th, with the half-pound of butter.
I've been missing it, and I'll be hungry.