As planned, we journeyed to Bide-A-Wee Thursday morning for Thanksgiving. The turkey was the best we’d ever tasted, white and dark meat included.

We met Brett’s grouse, of the Grilled Grouse at Bide-A-Wee. It was very soft and its neck still moved.

Some of my favorite pictures from the day were of Brett and Mary’s wirehaired Griffins Annabel and Lily.

I am always trying to get Lily’s picture at Bide-A-Wee, but she has a knack for looking away at the precise moment the shutter clicks. This time I tricked her:

Above, the tablescape after dessert on paper plates licked clean (Dinner was had on the loveliest of plates by Theresa.). Days later, the afterglow remains:

af·ter·glow

• Light or radiance remaining in the sky after the sun has set.
• Good feelings remaining after a pleasurable or successful experience.

Conventional wisdom — among burger bloggers at least — is that it’s not worth it to make your own buns. This matches my experience: chalky, crumbly, too chewy, too rich, the list of sins goes on and on. So many broken promises, so many tears.

These bitter bun experiences have taught me better than to take some blogger’s promises about the homemade bun that’s finally — really! — worth it, and so I might have skipped over my good friend Brett’s (of Trout Caviar) Bun recipe with that same cynicism if I hadn’t tried them before, and loved them. It was a hot summer afternoon picnic on Brett’s rolling Wisconsin property, Bide-a-Wee, and we were camped under a farmers market tent, trying to stay in the shade. My bun was full of wood smoked pulled pork, and while the pork was as delicious as pork usually is, the bun stole the show for me. Knowing Brett the buns would have to be homemade — I don’t think he’s ever served me bread he hadn’t baked himself — but I asked nonetheless if he had made the buns, incredulous. He had. I’m too discreet to ask a baker for his recipes, and with Brett’s Real Bread no longer for sale at the farmers market, I figured my only chances to savor these buns would be on the odd invitation out to Bide-a-Wee.

And then Brett asked the world check out his buns.

After that lunch in Wisconsin I didn’t need any more convincing to try the recipe. I followed it as Brett printed, although I may not have kneaded it quite as long as I should have because the dough was quite sticky and difficult for me to work with. In any case, I was planning an overnight fermentation in the fridge, which can cover over a lot of under-kneading sins. The buns came out of the oven the next day and were as good as I remembered.

What makes these buns so special? It’s the texture. They hit a perfect middle road: chewy enough to feel like something and absorb juices without disintegrating, yet light enough not to distract from the main event, located between them. These buns are suitable for a thick and juicy steakhouse burger but won’t diminish a diner-style slider, either. They even work with my favorite veggie burgers which, while delicious, are infamous for squishing out the back-side of lesser buns.

If inferior buns — from the store or your oven — have left you jaded and cynical, I am writing this post to tell you there is hope. There is truth. There is Le Bun.