I take home leftover whipped cream from the creamery. I culture it with some yogurt for a while, and it becomes a lovely mousse-like cheesecake-flavored fluff.
I beat the fluff until the fat breaks. It turns grainy, and golden specks of butter appear in the translucent buttermilk. Like stars appearing at twilight.
The stars start clumping -- just like those nights H. Rose and I spread our cloaks over the dew in the cow pasture and watched the Milky Way congeal. Oh yes, and then the butter rises and it's last night's moon all over again.
I knead the butter under running water, cleaning out any trapped pockets of buttermilk. I save the majority of the buttermilk for baking. It contains the sugar and vanilla that were used to flavor the whipped cream.
Sweet as a newborn babe, that nugget! I kneaded in a pinch of sel gris and gave it a kiss.
Does anyone know of a local dairy goddess? Is she still accepting acolytes?