Clarified Butter

Today in Singing Wheat Kitchen I have made a golden clarified butter. Why, you say? Who wants to stand over the stove, eyeball to the pan, carefully skimming the surface of whey and watching for the quintessential moment between carefully loved butter-watching and a toss everything brownout?

Chef has been making beautiful sauces lately - and you can't get there if you don't start with strong foundations. Clarified butter is one of those devices that make a noticeable difference in how stable the flour cooks when introduced to the butter in the pan for a roux, or how quickly the butter burns when you tear off the paper of your butter stick and lop it into the hot pan. It makes a world of difference. And so I try it, keeping my other eyeball to left, on the pot of chicken stock burbling in its own rhythm. When I finally get these two together, it will be in veloute, a marvelous white sauce.

The foundation of French classical cuisine - stocks and sauces - isn't something that jumps off the page of a recipe in a cookbook. It takes practice in patience to acquire the feel. Chef has told me another secret that I am applying to my work on the knife skills: It's important to work in peace.

And so I watch, and try, and feel my way.

Peace be with you, buttercup.