Butter is sweetly, simply mammalian. The French eat four times as much of it as the Americans, but they're 35% less likely to die from heart disease.—via the Guardian
This is a rainy island in the north Atlantic. It's not a natural habitat for olive trees, and our countrymen don't look like the people in the Bertolli ads. (John Lydon's excellent adverts for Country Life butter are much closer to the mark.) We got here with butter, barley, beef, beer and bread. Seamus Heaney's superb Churning Day captures the almost mythological place butter holds in the consciousness of these islands, the "coagulated sunlight ... heaped up gilded gravel in the bowl". So sod margarine. All hail the pail.