Mmm...Butter-Wrapped Margarine

Yesterday I participated in a live online chat with Kathleen Purvis, the food editor of the Charlotte Observer (a link to her blog, I’ll Bite, can be found on the menu on the left). Most participants asked questions pertaining to seasonal items, such as zucchini or peaches, or about local restaurants. A participant named John asked the best question of the day:

Is margarine safe to eat straight from the tub? Or is there some sort of special preparation you use? I like to wrap margarine in butter before serving. Is that recommended?

Ms. Purvis, I, and, presumably, the rest of the participants were not prepared for a question of this caliber. In the case of John’s question, the whole is definitely not greater than the sum of its parts. Each part is a beguiling question all its own. Therefore, I’ve decided to break down the whole and attempt to answer or, at least, offer my thoughts on each part.

Is margarine safe to eat straight from the tub? Margarine has been around for over 130 years. While it hasn’t been available the entire time in tub form, I, and most of you, grew up eating margarine straight from the tub, most notably on toast. When my niece was about 3, I saw her eating a spoonful of a thick yellowish substance, but couldn’t make out what it was. When I asked what she was eating, she replied, “Butter” (I wouldn’t expect a 3-year old to say “Margarine”). Rather than trying to convince a 3-year old that eating a spoonful of margarine may not be the healthiest option, I instead asked my mother why she’d given it to her in the first place. Her answer? “That’s what she wanted.” My niece recently graduated from high school relatively unscathed and without dying a horrible margarine-induced death. I am aware of arguments on both sides regarding the safety and health factors of eating margarine. Trans fats, no trans fats. The argument is basically whether or not to eat it at all. I have yet to hear an argument regarding the tub.

Is there some sort of special preparation you use? I wish John had elaborated on this point. I’m not familiar with a “special preparation”. Maybe melt it and then chill it to get it back to its hardened state? Sprinkle it with lard? Luckily, John does have an idea.

I like to wrap margarine in butter before serving. Again, John really could’ve elaborated on this one. This is, in fact, my favorite part of the question. I surveyed a couple people to see if they could figure out how John was accomplishing Butter-Wrapped Margarine. LA’s partner Joe and I both theorize that perhaps he softens a stick of butter, then wraps it around a chilled stick of margarine. My mother thinks he might soften the butter and just spread it on the margarine. Either way, I’d love to be in the kitchen with John when he’s wrapping his margarine. I’d also like to see how his guests react to this delight. Joe pointed out that John’s special preparation really does put you on the fast track for a massive coronary.  Really though, more than knowing how he wraps the margarine, I'd like to know why. 

Is that recommended? No. While I wouldn’t necessarily dissuade someone with John’s tenacity from wrapping margarine with butter, I cannot recommend or even endorse this solution. If you can really call it a solution. I would love to ask John where this suggestion came from in the first place. Is it an old family tradition? Did he hear about it on one of the morning TV shows that are always frightening my mother with how ubiquitous and relatively innocuous household products will kill or, at the very least, maim you?

John, if you’re reading this, please answer my questions, as I have answered yours. I eagerly await your response. Until then, I will be eating my margarine directly from the tub, as I am just too lazy to figure out how to go about wrapping it. Fingers crossed that it’s safe!

P.S.  In case you're wondering, Ms. Purvis's response to John's question was "Why would margarine not be safe from the tub? I don't think it needs preparation. It's margarine."

A Lot Like Hitting a Telephone Pole

Every Saturday, after going to the farmer’s market, LA and I visit as many yard sales as possible, in a quest for cheap old furniture in need of a little love. A few Saturdays back, we found two end tables for $1 each. Score! We happily paid the sellers our $2, then loaded the tables into the back seat of my car (after chasing a giant spider off of one of them). As we were backing out of the driveway, we were jolted to an abrupt stop. We’d hit something, but what? We thought maybe it was another car. No. The couch sitting on the curb? No. Then we saw the telephone pole that was directly behind the car. We sheepishly drove away, too embarrassed to leave the car to assess the damage. After putting some distance between us and the onlookers, we pulled over. We had to see it. “There must be a giant dent where we hit the pole.” “It’s going to be huge.” We found a small scratch on the bumper that wasn’t there before. We hit the pole with such force that the sunroof opened. We nearly died (of embarrassment, anyway)! Yet there was only a small scratch.


Why am I telling you all of this? I started my kitchen escapades one week ago. I have eaten two meals in a restaurant, and the other 19 at home. 19 meals! Three meals per day, seven days per week, minus the two meals out. Surely I’ve made a large dent in the inventory in both pantry and freezer. I’ve hit it with such force! No, there’s barely a scratch. You have to look closely to see it, and even then, you have to know what you’re looking for. I attempted to eat some “chow mein” last night, but I threw it out. Maybe I’ll give the two remaining packages to LA; he seems to like them. I’ve eaten spaghetti and meatballs, Rice-a-Roni, beets, cereal, bacon. Even Girl Scout cookies and Chex Mix. And I’ve just scratched the surface. Sadly, I’m already tired of my choices. I vow that I will never again buy five packets of instant mashed potatoes, simply because they’re on sale. If I’m smart, I’ll never buy them again, period. I’m trying to consume the least interesting foods first, which will leave the good stuff for the end. As my reward. My logic is that, if I eat the gross stuff to start, I won’t still have a stockpile when I’m through eating the things that I want. You don’t have to agree with my logic. The other option would be for me to give away all the food that I dread having to eat. If I did that, I’m just wasting money that I need right now. And why did I buy it if I dreaded eating it?

None of the 19 meals this week would qualify as interesting to anyone reading this. I didn’t find them interesting when I was eating them. How much can really be said about a roast beef sandwich? I did turn leftover instant mashed potatoes into soup. The result tasted like instant mashed potato soup. I contemplated making something with my nine pounds of butter, maybe brioche. On second thought, I would have to a) eat, or b) find room for the brioche. The butter is just hanging out in the freezer, not hurting anyone, so it may as well stay there until I need to make bread. Or a cake. Or put a whole stick on a baked potato, like the Buttertons do in the commercial.

The most difficult time for me in this first week was our trip to the farmer’s market. They had strawberries. They had tomatoes. They had pie! I couldn’t buy any of it. I didn’t even buy any of Deb’s olive tapenade. Secretly, I wish I’d cheated and bought some of that. The best part of my experiment is the one big lesson that I’ve already learned: it does not make sense for me to buy packaged foods or anything that makes more than two servings. I get bored with it, and it’s not good for me anyway. Once I’m able to buy a variety of food items again, I will buy only what I need. I will not be on Door Knock Dinners; that show isn’t even on anymore. So I can stop stockpiling! Until then, I still have Tuna Helper and Rice-a-Roni waiting for me.