I don't get it?
Why are women so possessed by their butter?

Here is how one American Civil War veteran (Sam Watkins) recollects
his experience with women and their darn butter:

Sam Watkins (A Confederate Soldier) is a guest at supper
at a local civilian home.

Dialog:

The old lady said, "Daughter, hand the gentleman
the butter." It was the first thing that I had refused, and the reason
that I did so was because my plate was full already. Now, there is
nothing that will offend a lady so quick as to refuse to take butter
when handed to you. If you should say, "No, madam, I never eat butter,"
it is a direct insult to the lady of the house. Better, far better,
for you to have remained at home that day. If you don't eat butter,
it is an insult; if you eat too much, she will make your ears burn after
you have left. It is a regulator of society; it is a civilizer; it is
a luxury and a delicacy that must be touched and handled with care and
courtesy on all occasions. Should you desire to get on the good side of
a lady, just give a broad, sweeping, slathering compliment to her butter.
It beats kissing the dirty-faced baby; it beats anything. Too much
praise cannot be bestowed upon the butter, be it good, bad, or
indifferent to your notions of things, but to her, her butter is always
good, superior, excellent. I did not know this characteristic of the
human female at the time, or I would have taken a delicate slice of the
butter. Here is a sample of the colloquy that followed:

"Mister, have some butter?"

"Not any at present, thank you, madam."

"Well, I insist upon it; our butter is nice."

"O, I know it's nice, but my plate is full, thank you."

"Well, take some anyhow."

One of the girls spoke up and said:

"Mother, the gentleman don't wish butter."

"Well, I want him to know that our butter is clean, anyhow."

"Well, madam, if you insist upon it, there is nothing that I love so well
as warm biscuit and butter. I'll thank you for the butter."

I dive in. I go in a little too heavy. The old lady hints in a delicate
way that they sold butter. I dive in heavier. That cake of butter was
melting like snow in a red hot furnace. The old lady says, "We sell
butter to the soldiers at a mighty good price."

I dive in afresh. She says, "I get a dollar a pound for that butter,"
and I remark with a good deal of nonchalance, "Well, madam, it is worth
it," and dive in again.

I did not marry one of the girls.

I'm thinking that back then it took hours of churning and blisters on the hands to make that butter. Today it's just a matter of what you pick up in the dairy aisle, or one's budget. I think of butter as a treat. Love it on biscuits or toast and almost a must to make great cookies. Now turn down my cookies, (unless you're diabetic), and I might just act as scorned as those southern ladies in the story

I've made butter and believe jemare is 100% correct!

Good point. Lots of hard work.
Mostly I put this in for the humor of it.
Nice to know the hard work behind it.