“If you’re afraid of butter, use cream.” ~ Julia Child

I’m having a love affair…with butter. Since arriving in Paris, my healthy, butter-free style of eating has gone by the wayside. Instead, buttery croissants are melting in my mouth. Back home I always ask for the sauce on the side, a little something I adopted from When Harry Met Sally. These days, I swirl my fork around in buttery sauces so that with every bite I close my eyes in sheer pleasure. I have been seduced by butter.

{Prix fixe menu ~ buttery croissant with a side of buttered bread.}

{I understand why the French eat croissant every day.}

{Lobster crepes for lunch at Jules Verne in the Eiffel Tower. This had butter and cream.}

{My love affair continued with Chinese artichokes, in butter of course.}

{Buttery dessert at Jules Verne.}

{Freshly made marshmallows. These didn’t have butter, but they should have.}

I refuse to feel guilty about my love affair with butter. My legs are tired every night from walking the city, and this is vacation after all. And maybe just like any lustful relationship, once the excitement wears off, I will no longer be tantalized by butter. That’s what I’m hoping anyway.