Where did my infant go?

Butter

My dad grew up very poor in rural Kentucky.  And when I say poor, I mean using outhouses and sleeping on the porch because there wasn't enough room for everybody poor.  There is this misconception that "poor" people are helpless and they can't take care of themselves.  And I can't help but notice that this misconception is usually spurred by those who have never been poor a day in their life.  I could be wrong, though.  That is just my perception.

His mother, my Granny, passed away in 1990.  She had 11 children between the early 30s and late 50s, and lost her husband in 1960.  The woman could hitch a team of mules for plowing, she could grow food, harvest it and can it so the family would have food in the winter, and she did whatever else she had to do to provide for her family.  So my dad learned survival from the best!

I tell this story because several months back my dad blew out a tractor tire and did not have the money available to fix it.  So he fashioned a patch using part of the belt from a hay baler.  He is always coming up with ways to make things work, and after telling me this story he proudly added, "I was pretty proud of myself.  Shoot, I know how to be poor."

That has stuck with me ever since he said it.  How many of us really know how to be poor?  Do we know what to do under dire conditions to make sure we can provide for ourselves?

My recent success with bread immediately promoted me to look at what other things I could do that would provide for my family if the need arises, and wouldn't you know my efforts have immediately paid off!

This week I turned my sights to making butter, mostly on a whim to go with my homemade bread.  To my surprise it was easier than I could have ever imagined and I started kicking myself for not learning this sooner.  I will admit I didn't do any precise measuring and once again used the ol' Kitchen Aide for the job.  I poured about a third of a quart of heavy whipping cream into the bowl and used the whisk attachment and beat it on medium speed for about 10 minutes, then cranked it up to high for the duration of the process.  The reason I used two speeds was to reduce the amount of splatter, but I've seen people do it in the Internet using a cover over the bowl to reduce splatter and just keep it on high speed.  In this instance there is no wrong way to do it.

So you essentially over-beat heavy cream until the butter forms, which takes anywhere from 15-20 minutes, depending on speed settings, the coldness of the cream, etc.  Once it separates you'll have butter and a opaque white liquid.  This is buttermilk!  Not the kind you get in the store that has been treated with enzymes to give it that thick, tart (and in my opinion a very unpleasing) taste.  This buttermilk tastes sweet and a bit watery.  You can not substitute it in recipes because today's recipes calling for buttermilk are centered around the commercially sold stuff.  But I did use it in a waffle batter, substituting it for the milk, and got very pleasing results.

Once the mixture separates, place a strainer over a bowl and pour the whole thing over the strainer.  I then transferred the buttermilk to another container, placed the butter in the bowl and smashed it down to get the air out and ran cold water over it to remove the buttermilk.  If you don't rinse it then the buttermilk will cause the butter to spoil faster.  I then placed the butter in an airtight container and put it in the refrigerator where I could see it and smile every time I opened the fridge!

In my dad's day they had to put the cream in a container and shake it until the butter forms, and while I tried this, it took too long and my arms where not up for the challenge so I'll stick with the mixer.

Now, the real payoff from this showed itself this week when my husband and I hit a hard financial patch.  We live paycheck to paycheck, with nothing in savings, so not paying attention and not communicating to each other about what-who-spent-when caused us to be without a dime to our name, very little food in the house and waiting on payday.  We are also without bread or butter.

Instead of panicking or feeling sorry for myself, when my daughter asked if she could have a peanut butter sandwich I whipped up a loaf of bread and used homemade butter to do it.  

I took more than a great deal of pride in this small accomplishment, and I have always been of the mindset that nothing feels more like poverty than not having anything to eat.  Maybe that is why my dad never felt poor.  I'm convinced that is why my Granny put so much time and energy into food storage and preparation.  

I hopefully will never know their level of poverty, but I hope that if I ever did I would have enough skills to be able to grow my own food and be able to transform a few ingredients into something that will provide for my family.  

I at least was able to make a peanut butter sandwich for my little girl.  Shoot, I know how to be poor.