My husband, Braden, insists butter belongs on the counter because “that’s how his grandma did it.”
At first, it seemed harmless. A pale yellow block sitting on a floral dish by the toaster—softening in the afternoon sun. But I couldn’t shake the thought of bacteria multiplying.
When I asked him about it, Braden shrugged from the garage, “Maribel, that’s how Grandma Selma did it. It’s fine.”
I texted my friend Odessa, who didn’t mince words: “Girl, I’d toss it. Salmonella isn’t a joke.” My stomach twisted every time I saw the dish, while Braden spread it liberally on toast and crackers.
I decided to research food safety. Opinions were mixed. Some sources said butter could sit out a couple of days; others recommended refrigeration. Our kitchen thermometer read 78 degrees—not ideal.
When I showed Braden what I’d found, he sighed. “Grandma lived to 98. Maybe you’re worrying too much.”
It wasn’t just about butter. Later, I learned that Braden had mentioned our debate to his sister Clarissa, who posted cryptic comments online. I felt blindsided.
Continue reading on next page…