Eats shoots and leaves

Liquid gold

The Prince of Wales likes to talk to his cows and give them individual names. Princey says it encourages better milk production. It’s not often I like to agree with him, but Princey is spot on. Improved milking conditions for cows ensure fewer stress hormones and lead to better-tasting milk. There’s an impressive body of research to back this up.

In a country where the chat is almighty, is it any wonder that Irish milk products are ballistically good? Our beatific herds produce some of the most coveted butter in the world. You’ve tasted hand-churned farmhouse butter such as Cuinneog, Glenilen and Crawford Farm’s, right? We don’t just do dairy. We do happiness.

And now, at long last, Irish buttermilk is appearing on menus across Europe — buttermilk panna cotta, buttermilk chicken, buttermilk snow and buttermilk ice-cream being some of the favourites. Who knows what makes an age-old Irish dairy by-product into an Instagram sensation, but buttermilk seems to have sealed that transition.

I’ve been waiting for this day to happen since my spectacularly futile hunt for buttermilk in Oxfordshire 10 years ago. No one in the trade had even heard of buttermilk.

I mentioned this to an Irish chef at the time, who let out a high-pitched peal of laughter as we high-fived her genius for sneaking some into her suitcase. It was my magical baking elixir.

Despite what its name might suggest, buttermilk is not at all fatty and buttery. Traditional buttermilk is simply the liquid run-off from making butter. Modern buttermilk is more often cultured and tangy, like yoghurt. It makes an ace marinade for tenderising meat, and rocks your morning pancakes and waffles.