butter

I have been in a breakfast rut for several years, especially now that bagels are so hard to come by. Two pieces of toast with butter and Marmite, juice, and coffee. I do use different types of bread to mix things up a bit, but until recently it was difficult to find decent wheat and multigrain varieties here. However, the clever folks at Bimbo, the major mass bread manufacturer, have brought out a whole new line: eight-grain, soy, extra fiber, etc. My favorite so far is the whole wheat, English style, which doesn't have added honey or sugar of any sort, key when mixing with Marmite. Otherwise, the savory Marmite and the sweetness clash horribly, and the taste is all wrong. (And yes, the brand really is Bimbo. This intrigues most of our first-time guests, particularly Big Jim's male friends, who always feel compelled to take a loaf of "blond" [white bread] Bimbo home with them. And a box of "Colon" cleanser, the oddly named laundry powder.) In addition to the previous lack of bread choices, my seemingly simple breakfast faces seasonal challenges, specifically regarding the state of the butter. Let me explain. In the summer, usually in early July, I will come down to the kitchen one morning to find a pool of melted butter ringing the edges of the butter dish, almost like a moat. For two months or so, it will be too hot to leave the butter setting out, which means it has to be stored in the refrigerator. Which I hate. Some time toward the end of September, the temperature cools just enough to bring the butter dish back out from the fridge, and I can again enjoy its easy-spread goodness. Until mid-November, when the temperature in the house dips below 55-60 degrees, and I am now faced with a block of almost rock-hard butter every morning. I have about five seconds to get the toast from the toaster to the plate and to slap a slab of butter on it if I want to have any hope of the butter melting properly. It's a challenge before I've had my coffee, I tell you. And don't bother suggesting I try one of those horrible margarine spready things. I know what's in them, and I'll take my butter dilemma over that option any day. Cold butter is just my reality for the next few months, along with my constant companions, my orange/yellow/blue plaid Irish wool blanket and my woolie slippers. And in a couple of weeks, the temperatures will dip further, and it will be time for the resurrection of another old World favorite---my hot water bottle. hasta luego, mylifeinspain