French Kitchens - In praise of "proper butter".

There was a time, and I might be showing my age here, when butter became the subject of a deliberate, fatty witch-hunt. It seemed to be a hearing behind closed doors, for us butter lovers. It was accused and found guilty of shortening our lives and making us fat. The Western world fell under a wave of nutritional anxiety. Butter, which had been besties with bread for such a long time, was suddenly recast as the insidious villain of the kitchen. Into its golden yellow slippers, stepped a wicked Step-Mother called Margarine - her suitcase was a plastic tub marked "progress".

Marge, promised the comfort of butter without the supposed dire consequences. Risks of cardiac arrest, elevated blood pressure - mythical misinformation around cholestorol and fatty acids.

And we, the people, swallowed it. Hook, line and poly-unsaturated sinker.

Across the Western world, our toast and crumpets were smeared with something that had a passing resemblance to butter, but whose contents were more at home in a lawnmower engine. The French, of course, were not convinced. In France, butter was not a thing to fear, but to celebrate. Wander through any French supermarket and you quickly realize that butter occupies a place of unapologetic, quiet importance. You can buy it cut from large blocks and wrapped in paper like cheese. Some is pale and sweet, destined for pastry. Other butters carry crystals of sea salt, large enough to blunt your knife. There is butter from Brittany, butter from Normandy, butter for cooking and butter intended simply to accompany bread.

Butter in France is not just an ingredient. It's a trusted friend.

And while the rest of the world - wielding the spatula of the self-righteous - swapped "le beurre" for family-sized tubs of industrial lubricant, the French simply carried on cooking.

They whisked it into sauces until they turned all glam and glossy. They folded butter into pastry, until the layers separated like the waffer-thin pages of a school hymn book. They melted it over fish, softened onions in it, and wiped it across baguettes, like a cheeky grin.

Butter itself, of course, is hardly a modern discovery. Its history stretches back thousands of years. The Greeks and Romans used it primarily as a cosmetic, smearing on their olive skins as a dairy-based demulcent, while olive oil was strictly for cooking.

By the fifteenth century, however, butter had become a common ingredient across much of northern Europe, especially in France. At the time it was oft' referred to as “poor man’s fat,” because it was so local to everyone and cheap to produce. Ironically, the posh, preferred lard.

Over time, though, butter found its place at the centre of French cooking, becoming essential to pastries, pies, soufflés and sauces. Today the French remain among the world’s most zealous butter consumers, averaging around eight kilograms per person each year. (Which, btw - when I read it - really didn't sound a lot...) Which tells you something about both me, and, more relevantly, about how seriously the French take their butter.

So here is my statement: I am convinced there is no better butter in the world than that of Maison Bordier. It has character and personality. It is noticeable. Bordier butter is not something that just lives in the fridge door. It is a staple. With a dedicated, lidded dish.

I have even met the bloke behind the butter, Jean-Yves Bordier, and he gave me a very modest statement of his own. “I haven’t invented anything new. I simply apply centuries-old methods that respect the land, the animals, and the tradition.” Which is a very French answer.

Like all butter, it begins with the milk. Bordier sources cream from small local farms where cows graze on grass and wildflowers rather than living in crowded cow sheds. That matters more than you might think. In summer, when cows feed on fresh grass, rich in beta-carotene, the butter turns a deep yellow and develops a silky texture with pronounced savoury flavours. In winter, when their diet shifts to dried grasses, the butter becomes paler and slightly sweeter, with a more delicate texture. I told you I liked it..

Industrial butter erases these seasonal differences. Bordier celebrates them. Time also plays its role. Most commercial butter is made within hours of milking. Bordier butter takes three days. During much of that time the cream is allowed to culture slowly, developing the complex flavours that make the finished butter so distinctive.

And then comes the most unusual step. Instead of sending the butter straight to packaging, it is kneaded slowly through a wooden machine called a malaxeur, before being worked further by hand with grooved paddles. The kneading time varies by season but can last as long as thirty minutes, refining the butter’s texture and distributing salt with the precision of an F16.

It is butter-making as craft rather than a commerce.

And when you taste it, you can tell.

Oh... and Bordier’s flavoured butters have become legendary among chefs. Seaweed butter from the Breton coast, Espelette pepper, wild garlic, yuzu, black truffle... Yes. Black Truffle. Suddenly butter stops being merely something that accompanies food. Food becomes the accompaniment. My fave? The precisely packaged "4% sea salt". Other worldly.

Meanwhile, nutritional sentiment has begun to soften toward butter as well. The once simple narrative of “fat makes you fat” has given way to a more nuanced understanding of whole foods and how the body processes them. Butter is, after all, a remarkably straightforward product. The body understands it and so happily metabolizes it. Butter is rich in vitamins A and D along with beneficial fatty acids that support vision, immune function, and overall health. Compared with the heavily processed spreads that replaced it during the dark days of the margarine régime, butter now looks rather splendidly simple. Real food.

And if you are fortunate enough to find Bordier butter, dont' be shy. Introduce it heartily to a hot crumpet. Melt it onto radishes or asparagus. Use it to make the best caramel of your life.

There are endless perfect ways to enjoy perfect butter. Rediscover yours...

Perhaps the French never needed to rediscover butter because they never stopped trusting it in the first place. After all, I am reminded of a colloquial French expression: "Mettre du beurre dans les épinards". It's litteral meaning is to put butter in the spinach, but figuratively, it is "To make life a little better". And really, that may be butter’s greatest contribution after all...

...Because everything tastes better, with a little bit of butter.

https://www.maisonbordier.com/en/