Associate web editor Rochelle Bilow may work on the internet, but when it comes to cooking, she prefers to keep it old-school. From making her own butter (seriously) to grinding her coffee beans by hand, Bilow’s all about doing things the slow way. This week, she's breaking out the food processor for a batch of homemade butter.
Because I am a food writer, people often ask me to name my favorite food. I always have an answer, but it's not what most folks expect: It's butter. Pure, unadulterated, rich and creamy and fatty, and above all, homemade butter. My father grew up on a dairy farm in upstate New York, so maybe it's just in my veins (seriously, there's probably a lot of build-up happening there). But there is nothing I love more than perfectly spreadable butter on a piece of hearty bread. It's also my go-to fat for cooking—who doesn't love browned butter?—and I have been known to tote a half-pint jar of the stuff in my purse, should I happen to encounter a loaf of bread.
All butter is great, but some butter is truly extraordinary. What gives it superior status? It's got to be fresh, and it must be from pastured cows. Because butter is a product of cream, the quality of the milk matters. Cows that have been happily munching grass produce richer, sweeter tasting milk and cream—which translates into better butter. If you've ever followed a pastured dairy through the seasons, you'll probably notice a difference in the product: Butter is paler in color and less rich in the winter months, when the cows eat hay (a.k.a. dried grass). Once the fields turn green and the cows get to eat fresh grass, the butter becomes daffodil-yellow and has a vegetal sweetness.
Of course, these days it's not hard to get your hands on the good stuff. With small farms becoming chic and so many artisan producers churning out small batches, there are plenty of ways to satisfy a dairy fat fix. But I like to do things the slow way. I like to make my own butter.
Sound complicated? Fear not. If you own a food processor, it's refreshingly simple. I used to live and work on a farm myself, and that's where I learned to make butter. Because we were dealing with gallons of cream at a time, we made it with an electric paint mixer attached to a power drill. Exciting times. Now that I live in a small apartment in Brooklyn I've scaled down, but have maintained the ritual of "churning" my own butter from local cream.
I figured even the most dedicated butter enthusiasts (that's me) could use a refresher course, so I called up Lindsey Jakubowski, co-owner and general manager of Kriemheld Dairy Farms in Hamilton, NY. Jakubowski is an old friend who used to supply my farm friends and me with butter when we didn't have enough cream to make our own, so I trusted her to talk me through the process.
The first thing you'll need is room-temperature cream. It will process faster and it'll be easier to work with. Once it's ready, place the cream in the bowl of a food processor, being sure to leave enough room for it to agitate without splashing out the top or sides. Keeping it below the halfway line is a good rule of thumb. I have a 12-cup food processor at home, and find that a quart of cream is just the right amount. Make sure that the top is securely locked in place, then let 'er rip. The cream will whirr around the bowl, thickening and transitioning to whipped cream (feel free to stop the machine at this point and sneak a taste), then "breaking" before finally separating into milk solids and buttermilk. The butter will look like delightful little yellow clouds swimming in a cloudy sea. The whole process takes five minutes or less with a small batch. Set a fine mesh sieve over a mixing bowl or glass measuring cup and pour the milk solids and buttermilk into the sieve. The bowl or measuring cup will catch the buttermilk. Save it and use it for pancakes.
To finish the butter, rinse it under cool water, gently moving it around the sieve with a mixing spoon. You're rinsing off the residual buttermilk, and this is important because the more thoroughly you rinse, the longer your butter will last. Continue rinsing until the water runs clear, then let the butter drain in the sieve. You can also use a spoon or clean hands to work out any excess liquid, which, if left in, could also turn the butter rancid quicker. Commercially-produced butter is washed with either a chlorinated rinse or lactic acid to help preserve it. That means your homemade batch will never keep as long as the store-bought version, but making sure it's squeaky-clean helps.
If you choose not to salt your butter, know that it will turn faster. (It's essentially just more concentrated heavy cream, points out Jakubowski. Salt helps preserve it.) If you are salting, add a little bit at a time and taste as you go. You can always add more, but it's impossible to fix a too-salty butter. A fine-grain salt will incorporate into the butter better, but a flaky sea salt will impart intense bursts of salinity. I'm a fan of both; it just depends on my mood.
So let's be honest: It's not the quickest, most efficient, or even cost-effective means to a very tasty end. But why do it? I'll let Jakubowski have the last word: "There's nothing like fresh butter made with high-quality ingredients. It's so smooth and rich, that straight out of the churn it tastes just like ice cream. It really is that good." It really, really is.