Its creaminess rolls across my tongue, gliding in and out of places that other foods dare not enter. Churn baby churn. Ah, the pleasure you provide. Butter. Some say that butter is bad for you. I say “Bah!” In denial? Perhaps. Oh lovely butter, I cook with you, I spread you tenderly across the porous landscape of bread that is welcoming and waiting . . . I confess, I adore you, butter. You make my world a little creamier, a bit sweeter, a skosh butterier.