I am a firm believer in eating everything that you want, within reason. If you are going to use butter and cream in a recipe, use it with gay abandon and really enjoy it; just don't feel the need to use it in every single recipe, every single day. I mostly cook with olive oil because that is my preference but if butter is called for then I see no reason why I would pass that taste over for a lesser version of a dish. I don't believe in the low-fat, sugar-free option in life either. It seems to me that crap will usually have been added to replace what has been removed and, taking into account how much of the fake stuff you will need in order to replicate the taste of the real deal, you might as well have some of the proper stuff to begin with and eat less of it if you are watching your weight.
I also think it is important to listen to what your body is telling you, which is less earthy-crunchy, hippy-dippy than you might think. For example, when meal planning for the week, I originally intended to make a delectable dandelion green pesto-like sauce for pasta, full of unctuous local olive oil, with lots of garlic, walnuts and an over-the-top amount of good aged Parmesan. When dinnertime came around though, I was feeling a bit sluggish and out of sorts and decided that a less stridently "full-on-fat" theme was the way to go. L. got the pasta he craved and I got what I was looking for, an astringent, bitter-but-in-a-good-way flavor that I felt was going to do me good.
Recipe
Makes about 1 cup of sauce
2 bunches dandelion greens, thinly chopped
anchovies in oil, drained (I used the whole tin but the taste is really a personal one. I would suggest using 5 to start and working your way up)
Zest and juice from one lemon
1 clove garlic (more if you love it), crushed
Fresh ground pepper
Red pepper flakes
1/4 cup water
In a large saucepan, heat the water, lemon juice, garlic and anchovies over low heat. Stir, crushing the anchovies until they dissolve into a sort of paste. Add the dandelion greens, stir to mix them in with the water and anchovies and cover. Cook for about 5 minutes until the dandelions are wilted. Remove the clove of garlic.
Add 1/4 cup of water from the pasta that you chose to use (I used whole wheat penne which I thought would stand up well to the dandelion greens and the anchovies) to the dandelion greens. Let the mixture bubble up while stirring everything together well.
Tip the pasta into the sauce and mix well. Serve in heated bowls and top with lemon zest and red pepper flakes according to your taste preferences. Should you be feeling a bit less y-body-is-a-temple than I happened to be, a grating of Parmesan and a sprinkling of pine nuts for texture would not be a bad thing to add at the end either. Had I been less lazy at the moment, I might also have pureed the sauce before tipping in the pasta - this would have made for a slighly less rustic look to the finished product.
(For those who still want a proper dandelion green - or any green for that matter - pesto, here is the recipe below that I originally intended to adapt).