Pistachio butter for breakfast

The nut has been prized since antiquity, a fixture of Persian courts and Levantine markets long before anyone thought to put it in a jar, and that shade of green, somewhere between jade and crushed basil, still carries a bit of that old grandeur. Persian brides once tucked the nuts into their sleeves for luck. In old Baghdad, they were weighed out like currency, small enough to fit a palm and valuable enough to matter.

It's sweeter than tahini, less predictable than almond butter, and frankly wasted on toast alone. Eat standing at the counter if you must, but a good plate wouldn't go amiss

Unlike the store-bought jars, thin and sweetened into something forgettable, a good pistachio butter should taste almost savory first, the sugar arriving late if at all. Whipped light, then rolled in crushed nuts, it holds its shape in soft folds, a posh pale green that looks like it should be expensive, because it is.

Slather it on warm sourdough, obviously, but it's just as good stirred into oatmeal, spooned onto yogurt with a bit of honey, or tucked inside a warm croissant in place of butter. Even a plain cracker and a smear will do, if that's the kind of day it is.