Demi-Sel

Frankly, it’s the reason I like to travel to France. You cannot have a croissant without butter, you cannot have a berinaise without butter. You cannot have Anthony Bourdain without French cuisine and you simply cannot have French cuisine without butter. Sans beurre. Smooth yet thick, soft yet with small delights of crystalized salt. Where the salt is embedded a small pocket of moist wetness bubbles to the surface as the knife swipes. It’s never too hard, held in the fridge it doesn’t ask to be set for a minute, the fat content is so high in French butter that it solidifies slower and the result is what we’re here to appreciate.

I studied abroad in Paris when I was 20. It was the first time I realized the effects of a place on my mood, my creativity, and my output. How the beauty of streets can infiltrate your work, your relationships, your mornings and nights. Of course, I later came to live off this phenomenon in New York City, and came to make art literally from what I saw on the streets. But France taught me first. From the architecture to the fashion to the food, there’s a level of excellence in French expectations that shows the rest of the world how it can be done. How something can taste better if you remove limits of fat or salt, or the butter to dough ratio. It’s a gift, to be unwrapped and slowly enjoyed. Demi-Sel, for it’s perfection.