This was my favorite birthday present. The mack daddy of all butter, Beurre Bordier from Saint-Malo in Brittany. A friend of mine froze a few packs and smuggled them past French customs back to San Francisco. I’m indebted to him forever.
This is truly the holy stuff, disturbingly yellow, flecked with fleur de sel, and a secret I only discovered the week before I left Paris at La Grande Épicerie. Supposedly there are subtle changes to the color and flavor depending on the season. In the summer, it’s a you get a brighter yellow color from the beta-carotene and chlorophyll from the wildflowers and fresh grass that the cows graze on. In the winter, it tends to be slightly sweeter and paler in color.
There are other flavors as well, including a smoked salt, and a seaweed one that pairs particularly well with rye bread and oysters. I wouldn’t be surprised if the cows are massaged with Calvados up in Brittany.
Still trying to decide what to do with the smoked salt butter – caramels perhaps ?