Julie and Julia by: Julie Powell

I’m going to let you in on a dirty little secret, I feel quite ashamed really as if what I’m about to reveal might erase that little-bitty amount of feminine savoir faire hidden deep within me…Take a deep breath, here goes… I hate cooking. There, I said it. I also hate ironing. Each time I try to use the damn thing, the batteries are dead but let’s squirrel away the topic of ironing for another day.

I’m not quite sure why I dislike cooking so much,my Body Mass Index would surely suggest otherwise but the truth is, I gain no pleasure from it and have no interest in being in the kitchen unless I absolutely have to. This might therefore be the reason why I had never heard of Julia Child until this novel. Another possible alibi could be that the poor lady got lost somewhere in my British upbringing of bangers and mash but the most likely explanation must be that everyone else knew who she was except for me which is not so exceptional. I still don’t know how many states the US of A actually has! So, by picking up this book, not only was I introduced to the fabulous author; Julie Powell, I also got a crash course on Julia Child, the woman responsible for bringing French cooking to America.

I actually know a thing or two about French cooking as my mother has been living there for nearly 31 escargot farci years and the thing or two I know is firmly stuck around my butt area. French cooking is my absolute favorite, Italian definitely is an out of breath runner up but there is nothing that gives me more pleasure than either the simplicity or extravagance of French cuisine. Both seem effortless and are always orgasmic, yes orgasmic. I do not get the same vaginal shout outs when I eat Greek food or even a Friday favorite curry. Moreover, I certainly could not eat either of these two types of cooking each and every day of the year but French food what can I say…I think I’ve said enough.

So, although I am not from the USA, we all need to gather round for a big ol’ group hug and give Julia Child a heartfelt round of applause for crossing the continent with her bag of goodies and sharing French cooking with America. I must also thank Julie, the author of this novel for bringing this woman back to life to be recognized and rediscovered once more. I absolutely loved the author. Her humor was spot on, her writing a riot and her story, an inspiration to us all.

Julie Powell, a bored and frustrated government secretary picks up an old copy of “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” by Julia Child one day at her mum’s, and for some crazy reason decides to cook every single recipe, 524 to be precise, in one calendar year and document this painstaking endeavor in a blog. Sounds simple really but was it?. It wasn’t the recipes that made me turn the next page but how and if Julie would get through them. Would she end up in tears, delighted, drunk as a fart, neurotic, jubilant or divorced? All of these were possibilities at one time or another and each and every scenario was sumptuously narrated.We go through the Kiri killings of live lobsters, the laborious lancings of marrow bone, the crestfallen cremations of thousands of crepes and the mind fuck makings of Mayonnaise not to mention cakes, fish, poultry and much much more.

Through all these wonderful recipes we meet many of Julie’s family members, friends and fans that sprinkle color and life into Julie’s kitchen but the one that shines the brightest, is her husband Eric. One could suggest that this story is an unintentional modern day love story. A story of friendship, partners in crime, marriage. The pair of them, although probably traumatized by their Julia Child experience, gives the reader a glimpse into something more meaningful than cooking and Julie’s project. They exemplify a good kind of loving. Love in the 21st Century is no longer personified as a man in tights singing under your window,  (come to think of it, have I ever mentioned my husband?). In our busy world, love seems to be squeezed in…”date nights” and all yet throughout this novel I felt Julie and Eric’s commitment to each other. It was the little things that stood out. Those little things that enabled them to team up and finish this insane project. Their love was the kind that can be understood and appreciated by all of us couples who drink gimlets, fix the plumbing, massacre maggots, wash the dishes, cuss, and cuddle together.

Julie and Julia is like a slice of bread. It starts of plain and simple. Then you grill it and before you know it you’ve added the eggs, milk, cinnamon, nutmeg and vanilla extract and voila you have French Toast. By the end of her project, Julie was cooking up a storm, she was invincible. Her taste buds had blossomed and her cooking skills, I’m sure, were nothing short of formidable.

I will now let you in on another dirty little secret, having read and enjoyed Julie Powell’s novel so much, I… Yes me….Yours truly, bought “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” it’s in my kitchen, albeit at the bottom of a very dark drawer.

Julia you are a hoot, I can’t wait to find out what you cook up next.

Note to Julie: … I experienced Al Pacino’s Salome as well…what can I say?…lots of spitting from Mr Tony Montana, let’s leave it at that.

Click here for recipe

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