PASSIONATE RATIONS

My ex’s father drank a cup of buttermilk every morning.  Straight up.

Ugh.  It smells and looks questionable to me.

But I recently, by way of a happy accident, discovered its merits.

I wanted a simple brunch of scrambled eggs and toast.

Alas, we were out of regular milk and soy milk.  The only thing resembling milk in the fridge was a small container of buttermilk that had been purchased to supply a necessary ingredient to an experimental recipe (apparently not a very memorable recipe, since I can’t for the life of me remember why we had it).   It had otherwise gone unused and, indeed, was sitting there past its expiration date (which apparently had no effect upon it.  Thank goodness for low fat dairy products–they tend to last way beyond the stamped date, I’ve found.  No, I don’t usually feed expired food to guests).

I grabbed the carton, shrugged, and whisked some of the lumpy-ish stuff into the eggs.

The result?  Well, suffice it to say that I won’t go back to mere milk for egg scrambling.  The buttermilk batch was by far the tastiest batch of scramblers I have ever eaten.

And now you know the secret.