How mast makes bread and butter

The butter bread

Markus Mittringer can still remember the bread and butter terror from earlier times.

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And what does Erwin Wurm do? He doesn't work for a sandwich, he makes a mobile property out of it, he smears immensely value-increasing, builds apartment buildings on the barren pane, immediately recognizes the rich income in the fat, the added value of the common sandwich. Others are fed off with it. And that's why it is considered morally high to share even the sausage-free bread. (Goethe had Werther done on his behalf.)

Or started differently: Anyone who was raised with sandwiches, grew up with - depending on the case - just minimal amounts of fat that seal the bread pores or thick slices of the tea butter on the industrial mixed bread, may find it silly to have this poor man's snack To make a high culinary meal with at least three toques on top. Even if the bread has come from a deeply rural wood-burning oven, the butter has not only been pushed by selected dairy farmers, but the essence also comes from cows that have chewed nothing but very fine herbs from perfectly unpolluted alpine pastures.

Decoration with taste

And even when completely uncrushed chives rolls give both decoration and a delicately bitter aftertaste: There are entire generations who lack the sausage. Also because such a high-quality butter bread is really not available for a sandwich. And you don't always want to be reminded of the return of the same in childhood and adolescence: lukewarm crumbs of fat from your backpack to strengthen yourself on days of school hiking that are already unbearable in themselves. Half-tough, more than sparsely buttered gray slices in your own hand, crisp poppy-seed teaspoons lavishly peppered with extra sausage and cucumber in the mouths of fat and full comrades. How gladly would you have grown up a little further south or west, had your first snack in countries where there is neither the concept of bread nor black bread at all. In Italy, for example, where white bread with butter is only there to be served decent food afterwards, or in France, where fresh baguettes always smell - in countries whose culture is whole stairwells higher. But no: of all things, it had to be the Austrian-German sandwich for a break.

And of course in the hardest of all conceivable variants: as a double-decker, two-pane, cut in the middle and wrapped in greasy-eyed paper! If you imagine how many of these completely un-erotic calorie bombs, looked at with pubescent eyes, ended up unbitten in the rubbish bins of elementary and secondary schools, under the seats of the trams, in the school desk of the grammar schools, other countries are no longer surprised by famine .

Sour or sweet cream butter

But well, first the economic miracle and then globalization displaced the common bread and butter as a staple food, and today's high school students, thanks to McDonald's and other fattening establishments, can no longer imagine why the question of the right impact side of a sandwich in a free fall can no longer be imagined ever mattered. And now the doors and gates were open to a renaissance. Suddenly the shelves were overflowing with varieties of butter: First, there were products of cheap Irish provenance (the popular petty bourgeois custom of smuggling in collective farm goods), then later came with the first organic wave (now to bearded men with homemade things in a shop full of oatmeal and their twins, the Moths, think) the rancid back into urban households. Farmers discovered self-marketing and delivered yolk yellow hormone bombs. But that has also calmed down. Organic and hygiene have been reconciled, every supermarket has decent sour or sweet cream butter on offer. And sometimes it can also be goat or sheep's milk butter.

And since there is also a dizzying variety of bread to buy and chives, which were only fertilized by Bernese Mountain Dogs, nothing stands in the way of happy combinations. In addition, it can be refined with salts, which can be assigned to their origin with an accuracy of a few centimeters, which are extracted from special sea routes on full moon nights. And so come a little more expensive than a kilo of spicy sausage. And so the universal food of the poor got cult status. Otherwise serious adults cover hundreds of kilometers for a Bemme (Saxon). Maybe gone, but in any case no longer the target of media outrage are the legendary butter mountains that the EU piles up and simply destroyed at regular intervals in order to stabilize prices. (Markus Mittringer / Der Standard / rondo / 22/02/2008)