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AFTERACTION REPORT - OPERATION BUTYRIC LIBERATION

The very first thing to happen was that I wished I still worked at Home Depot, that I might have easy access to a paint shaker.

PROTIP -shaking by arm is a mug's game, if you have alternatives.

For example, flat beater on the Kitchenaid. I did shake all the way to "exceptionally stiff peaks" before I remembered owning such an appliance, and transferred the embryonic butter to its care. 45 seconds later, I have a lovely, light gold mound of buttery goodness. I kinda want to make toast. Very fresh and light (as we would hope). Now, I think I may salt it and put it on standby for Mother's Day supper.

Plus, when the zombie apocalypse comes, as long as I sock away some marmalade, I am set.

Nothing wrong with the old Betty C., but if she wants to learn to cook, rather than learn to make recipes, ATK. A sound grounding in theory is the basis for improvisation, unless you have enough bathrooms for all of your guests and a nearby McDonalds for them to hit on the way home.

Throw my vote in for Fiorello's in KC as well - every time I walk in, I'm glad my doctor has a higher LDL than I do and can't say a darn thing.

If I don't feel like driving four hours, the Hickory Hut here in Salina does solid work; especially for a building roughly the size of a shipping container.

After having HH and Famous Dave's the same day*, I have lost my taste for the chain barbecue - it's just missing the love.

* The Feast of St. Suidae