I often find myself standing in the kitchen in our apartment, waiting for the toast to pop up, and as I spread butter on it I’m always reminded of Bilbo’s line from The Fellowship of the Rings:
“I feel . . . thin. Sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.”
I have always thought it was such perfect imagery – simple yet profound. Because I know the agony* of trying to work the sometimes impossibly small pat of butter all the way to the outer edges of the crust, I can imagine exactly how Bilbo was feeling.
Salted butter is not common in Germany, and even though I look every time I go to a grocery store, the only salted butter I can find is imported either from Ireland or France. While I’m usually fine with using unsalted (baking, cooking, etc.), there’s nothing like salted butter on toast, so I pay the additional Euro or so to bring it home. And as I stand there in the kitchen, with Bilbo’s description in my mind, I always use a little extra, making sure it goes all the way to the edge.
And so, my Sunday blessing: may you always have enough butter for your bread. And may it be imported salted butter from France or Ireland.
*This may be too strong a word.