Smooth like butter

Jacob Richler has apparently left his position as snob-at-large at the National Post – maybe someone offered him a reheated sausage roll and coffee in a styrofoam cup last time he went into the offices, and that was it.

But Jake's impeccable taste-buds have found a new home at Macleans magazine. And if you are worried that some of his prattishness may have been lost in the move, don't.

Yes, it seems like only last year it was good enough to pick the unsalted Lactantia over the salted. But if you had stopped by my place last week and swung open the overladen fridge door you would have found seven different flavours on hand, every one of them packing more flavour and more fat than yours, some locally produced, some from Europe, and two of them illegal, unpasteurized stuff smuggled in from France hidden under a pallet of Camembert, as if it were smack -- although in my experience the contraband from Normandy is far more addictive.

Precious? Check.

Unnecessarily expensive? Check.

A little greasy? Check.

(Oh, I mean the butter, of course.)