Whey/Butter Showdown

For a  Blanch & Shock  event two weeks ago, I made a batch of butter to be served infused with fried mushrooms and seaweed, to make an umami spread served with butter - a distant relative of dripping served with bread. 
 I inoculated 500 grams of  Helsett Farm  cream with 200 grams of their live crème fraîche, and left it to colonise the cream for three days and nights, at room temperature (around 21C during the day, dropping to 19C at night. I recently bought an incredibly cheap plate warming blanket thing from Lidl, which heats up fast, but lacks a variable control and claims to hit 70C, which would destroy the bacteria ripening the cream. Until I have put together a PID controller to regulate it, the temperature of my kitchen will have to suffice. 
 I whipped the butter after chilling it briefly, draining the first and second waves of buttermilk that broke (to be used in an unrelated sauce) and then whipping the mass, with some of the buttermilk and 0.5% salt. The smell was extremely buttery, rich in what I have learned to recognise as diacetyl, an aromatic compound in butter. The taste was rich without being especially grassy or herbaceous like it might be in summer. I packed it and cooled it before it was later infused with powdered dulse and fried girolle and chestnut mushrooms. 
 Two days later, and left with a decent amount of the butter, I added three large scoops to a container of live yoghurt whey to try and instigate a kind of bacterial showdown. It had four days in the fridge and then three days at room temperature 
 The whey treatment has added a satisfactorily identifiable extra note, at once related and foreign to the butter, and an umami flavours have developed. 
 The butter has no significant role to play at the moment, it having been an experiment, but will inspire me to look at the interaction of yoghurt and cream and whether they can collaborate. For now, it has been steadily disappearing, mainly spread onto bread from  Brickhouse Bakery  in Peckham. The final spoonful is around sixteen days old now, and, as has been the case with most of the butters I have subjected to such tests, it has started to drift towards being like a cheese. 
 I will most probably end up in a bowl of scrambled eggs.

For a Blanch & Shock event two weeks ago, I made a batch of butter to be served infused with fried mushrooms and seaweed, to make an umami spread served with butter - a distant relative of dripping served with bread.

I inoculated 500 grams of Helsett Farm cream with 200 grams of their live crème fraîche, and left it to colonise the cream for three days and nights, at room temperature (around 21C during the day, dropping to 19C at night.
I recently bought an incredibly cheap plate warming blanket thing from Lidl, which heats up fast, but lacks a variable control and claims to hit 70C, which would destroy the bacteria ripening the cream. Until I have put together a PID controller to regulate it, the temperature of my kitchen will have to suffice.

I whipped the butter after chilling it briefly, draining the first and second waves of buttermilk that broke (to be used in an unrelated sauce) and then whipping the mass, with some of the buttermilk and 0.5% salt. The smell was extremely buttery, rich in what I have learned to recognise as diacetyl, an aromatic compound in butter. The taste was rich without being especially grassy or herbaceous like it might be in summer. I packed it and cooled it before it was later infused with powdered dulse and fried girolle and chestnut mushrooms.

Two days later, and left with a decent amount of the butter, I added three large scoops to a container of live yoghurt whey to try and instigate a kind of bacterial showdown. It had four days in the fridge and then three days at room temperature

The whey treatment has added a satisfactorily identifiable extra note, at once related and foreign to the butter, and an umami flavours have developed.

The butter has no significant role to play at the moment, it having been an experiment, but will inspire me to look at the interaction of yoghurt and cream and whether they can collaborate. For now, it has been steadily disappearing, mainly spread onto bread from Brickhouse Bakery in Peckham. The final spoonful is around sixteen days old now, and, as has been the case with most of the butters I have subjected to such tests, it has started to drift towards being like a cheese.

I will most probably end up in a bowl of scrambled eggs.

Aged butter 
 From a batch of raw (unpasteurised) double cream from  Helsett Farm  in Cornwall. I allowed the cream to ferment for 6 days in the fridge at around 3 ℃ , and then at room temperature (20 ℃) for another 6 days. I whipped it, strained the buttermilk, and served the first serving. Then I used the butter at various intervals over the next four days, before wrapping it and storing it the fridge for some long ageing. Two weeks have passed, and the butter has a deep savoury smell and taste.   
  The milk was given by Ayreshire cows to an automatic ‘self-milking’ machine on May 16th, 29 days ago. Eighty litres of milk were skimmed to produce six litres of double cream. I don’t know the fat content, but it was definitely not low. I have stopped serving the butter to the public, and will continue to monitor and eat it until it tells me not to.  
     
 I recently bought the bowl in the picture from a local potter and gardener called  Jan Pateman , who has a stall in Herne Hill Farmer’s Market.

Aged butter

From a batch of raw (unpasteurised) double cream from Helsett Farm in Cornwall. I allowed the cream to ferment for 6 days in the fridge at around 3, and then at room temperature (20℃) for another 6 days. I whipped it, strained the buttermilk, and served the first serving. Then I used the butter at various intervals over the next four days, before wrapping it and storing it the fridge for some long ageing. Two weeks have passed, and the butter has a deep savoury smell and taste.

The milk was given by Ayreshire cows to an automatic ‘self-milking’ machine on May 16th, 29 days ago. Eighty litres of milk were skimmed to produce six litres of double cream. I don’t know the fat content, but it was definitely not low. I have stopped serving the butter to the public, and will continue to monitor and eat it until it tells me not to.

 

I recently bought the bowl in the picture from a local potter and gardener called Jan Pateman, who has a stall in Herne Hill Farmer’s Market.