Butter mints

I love butter mints. Not those fake things you eat and taste one part plastic, two parts margarine with some hint of mint -- with too much fake color. No, I'm talking about the kind that make you want to go to a wedding reception and just stand by those colorful bites of God-given goodness to see if they meet the standard. And if they don't -- the wedding is a precursor to failure. It's really quite sad to see the evidence staring back at you from between your disappointed index finger and thumb.

Probably one of the best Christmas presents I ever got from my sister was like a two month supply of homemade butter mints that a friend of hers had produced. They lasted only a month, and undoubtedly added about five pounds to my then, but otherwise protruding belly. But they were damn good.

The standard for butter mints? The butter must play a leading role, and the fact that it is butter (and not margarine, or shortening) must be very clear. White cane sugar plays the crucial supporting role (like Heath Ledger as Joker in The Dark Knight) in keeping the butter together. The mint should be strong enough to not be ignored, nor so subtle that you wonder if you're just eating sugary butter. At the end, it's like you're eating icing, but not quite: it in that state of existence between stiff and brittle. I can only imagine that making them into their final form must be like making bricks.

OK, after that, I admit I have thought about this a little too much. But I do feel passionately about butter mints. Like most things in like, to do it right there are clear objectives and deliverables. And if achieved, they are well worth the four bucks I happily paid for the small tub I found at my breakfast joint in Icard yesterday.

Now, they sit beside me as I drive down the road, eaten as small presents, and the remainder... saved for another day.