Butter Up

John just called out from inside the fridge, "Hey, there's enough butter in here to start a war!"

Think about that: Could you do battle with butter? Grease the skids? Beat your enemy just by filling the air with the smell of homemade croissants - wouldn't that weaken anybody's will? Where did I read about Army bakers during the war, who were envied by the German bakers because the Yanks had better flour?

Anyway, I have all this butter on hand because you need at least 5 sticks for every batch of croissants. Why, you wonder, am I baking croissants when I need to be looking for gainful employment?

Well it's like this: Croissants are the ultimate sensorial wonder, a great comfort food. They smell delicious, taste buttery rich, look marvelous, the dough feels soft to the touch, and if you play the "French Cafe" CD from Whole Foods when you're making them, that's five senses you've whipped up. How many senses are you igniting when you type into a cold, heartless computer screen? Maybe you get two, sight and touch. I'm getting five, FIVE. And the sixth sense is, they make me feel better.

Recently I made up a batch of my herbed croissants to take up to Manhattan for Ellen Christine. Ellen is an amazing hat maker whose products I cannot resist. She admires my bread; I love her hats, it's very simple math. I carried bagfuls of croissants on the plane, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. If you get hungry and don't feel like paying $10 for who knows what from the airline, you've got bread, baby. Beats the Honor Bar system in any hotel room.

Once I got to Chelsea, where Ellen has her shop, I stopped at the corner liquor store for a bottle of bubbly, since Ellen's birthday was also just around the corner. Waltzing into her boutique with croissants, champs and a cheerful heart I thought yes, this is how life is supposed to feel. We toasted. We traded witty repartee - she is a master of the cheeky comment. Then Ellen sold me a darling red patent leather pillbox hat. Maybe I'll wear it to Le Cordon Bleu to check out pastry classes. If Julia could wear pearls, couldn't I wear red on my head?

Hey Jeanne, do you want to know how to make croissants? Got 3 days? It's a work of art kind of process.