Julie, Julia & Audrey

With all the hype about the new sensation Julie & Julia, about a month before the movie came out, I began scouring the internet for anything I could find on Julia Child. My findings not only had me falling in love with this Amazon of a woman, but it had me realizing I wasn't so very different from the great American French Chef herself.

Although I am excellent at what I do, my cooking falls short of Julia’s. Or does it? Now don’t get your knickerbockers in an uproar. I am not saying that I am superior to the great Queen of Cuisine. I do not feel worthy of touching the hem of her signature navy blue skirt. However…the biggest difference between many great chefs and Julia is as she would say “the courage of your convictions”.

My daughter and I, as well as half of Beaverton, went to see the new movie Julie & Julia on opening day. We both found the movie absolutely delightful and, as were all seated in the audience; amongst the sound of grumbling stomachs; ooohs and aaahhhs; and ‘I’m getting hugry’s’, we found ourselves salivating over the visually presented feast.

It was fascinating to watch the famed Julia Child go from gourmand to gourmet. We wept at her tragedies, and laughed at her culinary faux pas. We, as did everyone else in the world, drooled over her gastronomic masterpieces. And we both commiserated with Julie Powell as she lay weeping on the floor after dropping her well stuffed capon on the floor, remembering a turkey dinner or two that met with the same fate.

After deciding the movie was a keeper (meaning it was one that would become a part of my limited video library when available) we both decided Julia Child’s book ‘Mastering the Art of French Cooking’ would be a book worth buying. Dream on.

Being the internet addict that I am, I did some research and was blown away to discover that used copies of the book were selling for as much as $125.00. Although I know it happens all the time, it still amazes me to find people taking advantage of the success or tragedy of others, but…I’ll leave those thoughts for another day. For today I will say I did unearth copies of the book that could be ordered for much less than $125.00 however there would be a bit of a wait for its delivery.

So…while waiting for Barnes and Noble to announce our long awaited find has arrived at our local location, I thought I’d check the library. In all of Washington county there are 3 copies and 59 people in line to borrow the in demand book. If I am doing the math correctly at 3 weeks per library loan, my turn on that long awaited list would come up sometime around Christmas, 2011.

I sighed with disappointment of course, and as I continued my web search I found that others who had seen the movie, thought just as my daughter and I. If Julie Powell can do it so can we! We all, even world renowned chefs, want to cook like Julia!

Somewhere in the back of my little pea brain I thought I remembered Julia being huge. Well she was. She was 6 feet 2 inches. But she was also slender and carried her weight well, even with all of that butter and cream! I think it was her odd way of moving and her deep unusual voice that gave us the impression she was different than she truly was.

So where are the similarities between Julia and me?

Julia believed that people have become so fearful of elevated cholesterol levels, and other problems of vigor, that they have become obsessed in eliminating butter, cream and salt, which she considered essential ingredients for good quality cooking. She loved food and wasn't afraid of it. Neither am I.

“People are so fearful of what they eat,” Mrs. Child has said, ''they are no longer enjoying food the way they once did, and the dinner table is becoming a trap rather than a pleasure. We should enjoy food and have fun. It is one of the simplest and nicest pleasures in life.''

''In the old days, there was a great deal of exaggeration with cream and butter,'' Mrs. Child said. ''And it was delicious,'' she quickly added with a hearty laugh. Today, if you know how to cook, it is easy enough to make a sauce and swish using only a tiny bit of butter,'' Mrs. Child said. ''Those new sauces, made out of a puree of vegetables, are pretty boring. I like food to taste the way it should. You should enjoy every mouthful.”

I share those same beliefs as does the whole of France.

Julia’s trite eccentric sense of humor is much like mine, using dancing chickens; sweeping a dropped omelet from the counter back into the pan, instructing us never to apologize for our culinary mistakes; and of course there is her signature ‘when you’re alone in the kitchen, whose to see?’.

Julia was true to herself and if you didn’t like who she was, well…that’s your problem. She had this go get ‘em personality with this larger than life Joie de vivre. It wasn't that she could do no wrong, but rather she made making mistakes seem like fun. In front of a live audience, she once dropped an entire leg of lamb on the floor and chuckled about it. She failed to carve a suckling pig even while using a hack saw; She un-molded her mousse with a splat. The more she erred, the more the viewers loved and trusted her. Thus Julia gave us permission to do what we were already secretly doing…screwing up! I do that all the time! Screw up I mean. I haven't had too much occasion to saw a suckling pig.

Julia also had the courage and conviction, in mid-life, to go to the most famed culinary institute in the world and even though every one scoffed, no matter what hurtles she had to leap over, she honed her craft as no one else could have or has done since. I mean even the great Emeril Lagasse emulates the great Julia.

And that is where our similarities end. You see, everything I ever wanted to know about cooking I learned from Audrey Hepburn. How can you possibly learn about cooking from Audrey Hepburn you ask?

Do you remember the movie Sabrina? Yeah, I know. Who doesn't? Although if you really don’t, you may want to rent it, and if you haven’t seen it, well…I am so sorry you led such a deprived life. It too is a keeper! Now, if you watch it carefully you will discover that there are really only three things you will ever need to know about cooking.

1.) Any idiot can learn to cook
2.) You can make anything from almost nothing at all
3.) Don’t be afraid to experiment

No I am not nuts. Well, maybe I am actually, but not about this.

Take the scene when Sabrina is trying to learn to crack an egg. She’s the only one in the class who can’t seem to get it right. The cracked egg is oozing in between her fingers onto the floor and the chef is looking at her as if there is no hope. HE IS WRONG!

In just a little while we discover that not only is there hope, but you can make anything in the kitchen if you’re not afraid to try. Remember she tries to show off her newly found culinary skills by making something for Bogey out of just tuna and tomato juice. She wasn’t afraid to experiment and she made something out of almost nothing!

I did go to culinary school and dropped out after first term. I couldn’t wrap my head around paying $34,000.00 to learn proper presentation. Of course I never thought that there was anything else I could learn. I was already an excellent cook. In my arrogance, I had forgotten that I did not know how to de-bone a chicken or a fish. I can not make bread, or should I say patience is not in my vocabulary so having to wait for that yeast is like having to wait for the results of a test. Excruciating!

Anyway, here I am a wedding cake aficionado and I failed roses. Even though my wedding cakes are melt-in-your-mouth delicious, they are ugly as sin! But I did take Julia’s advice on never apologizing for them and that you can always cover your mistakes. I cover the fact that I suck at confection decorating by matching the brides bouquet. Whatever works!

In any case, as Julia desired with her first cookbook, my hopes are, by the end of this blog you too will be able to cook just about anything. Even if you are an idiot.

Julie & Julia
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JNpZsL1W1Ho&feature=related

Never apologize. No excuses, no explanations
http://www.imdb.com/video/imdb/vi77595161/

Courage of your convictions:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oeSgtWw7zEo&feature=related

The worlds most beautiful chicken
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q6Xopz0BpTc&NR=1

Meltdown
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RmbUeswpiao&feature=channel

To Goop or Not to Goop

Three evenings ago a group of 10 delightful women whom I have come to know and love, just absolutely took it upon them selves to abandon my housemates and I in our hour of need. They had the cheek to leave us with troughs of Almond Mousse, Praliné Brest and La Bête Noire. Although they did take home scraps to their spouses, the portions were barely enough to feed a mouse.

Their pretext in this lapse of manners was because they were afraid it would go their hips! What a wretched excuse! I mean after all, was it reasonable enough for my derriere to be labeled ‘caution wide load’ but not theirs? How selfish of them. Hmmpf.

Well…after my indignation wore off and I began licking these fripperies from my fingers which, coincidentally, just happened to slip into the bowl, I realized the combination of the three flavors was an admirable new creation. Hmmm. What would I call this new potion? I like to toss thoughts like that around in my head for a while so I decided to sleep on it. The thoughts not the creation.

The following day had proved to be a long and tiring one, so after eating leftovers of Chicken Almond, Black Swine and Cucumber tea sandwiches I asked my housemates the customary “Did you have enough to eat?” It seems I am always concerned about the state of my friends’ stomachs. They requested a bit of dessert and so I brought out the three containers of saccharine snippets.

When asked to be reminded of their names I responded with “this is Praline Mousse, this one is Chocolate Mousse and this one is…” I was tired and couldn’t for the life of me remember the word almond. “This one is…I don’t know some kind of white goop.”

So here it is Sunday afternoon and I am exploring the contents of the ice box wondering what I should cook for dinner. I no longer wanted quiche since I had a small piece for breakfast. I had melon and Prosciutto for lunch. Let me see. We have leftover chicken, lots of veggies which would make a great pot of Jewish Penicillin, and…goop. Which one do we partake of?

To Goop or not to goop, that is the question? Do we eat the leftovers that are still fit for human consumption, or do we simply smear them on our thighs since that is exactly where they will end up anyway so why go to the trouble of eating them? I can hear the melodious sounds of Nelson Eddy and Jeannette McDonalds song wafting from the three containers. “I am calling you-oo-oo-oo-oo.” But the voice inside of my head is countering with the Supremes “Stop. In the name of love, before they break your butt. Think it oh-oh-ver. Think it oh-oh-ver.”

Well I thought it oh-oh-ver and the recipe for the day is…..

Jewish Penicillin

3-4 pound ready to eat roasted chicken
2 tablespoons canola oil
2 cups onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 cups mushrooms, sliced
1/4 cup flour
2 cups carrot, sliced thin
2 cups celery, sliced
2 cups broccoli, chopped
3/4 teaspoon tarragon
1/4 teaspoon thyme
2 cups white wine
1 1/2 cups evaporated milk

It is important to start with a completely roasted chicken. Believe it or not, a cooked chicken is much more flavorful than an uncooked one. Place it in a large stock pot. Add just enough chicken broth to cover it. Put it on low heat, cover and go to the movies, go for a Sunday drive, anything you’d like. Just leave the pot alone for minimum of 4 hours. Don’t even stir it. When the chicken has begin to fall off the bone, you’ll want to remove the chicken, bones and all. Set aside to cool. Continue simmering the broth.

When the chicken is cool enough to handle, separate the chicken from the bones discarding the bones as well as other unwanted parts such as the skin. Return chicken to the pot. Continue simmering.

In a separate skillet, sauté the onions, garlic and mushrooms in the canola oil. Cook them for about 8-10 minutes or until the mushrooms just turn golden. Whisk in the flour. Add to the chicken. Add the remaining veggies, herbs and wine. Simmer for about 20-30 minutes, stirring every 5 minutes or so or until veggies are tender.

Add cooked egg noodles just before serving if so desired.




Post Script. To my Sunday morning cohorts; I do hope you know it is all in jest. I love you dearly and have already forgiven you your blunder. Guffaw, guffaw.

Traveling with Paulie Pants

How did this blog come about you ask? Well…I’ll tell you. I looked in the mirror one day about 6 months ago and I realized there was nothing frivolous or feminine about me anymore. Oh I had bursts of being a lady now and then, but they didn’t last very long. I wore a daily attire of jeans and an oversized man’s flannel shirt. Weighing in at 297 pounds, dresses and I didn’t get along very well. With my broad shoulders and men’s haircut, I usually ended up looking more like Frankenstein in drag.

I tapped at my chin, both of them in fact and they seemed to be progressing nicely. I stripped and gave an even rarer glance at my 53-year-old reflection. A moment or two was about all I could handle. I was beginning to resemble Shamu the killer whale. In my late twenties, early thirties, I had a Marilyn Monroe shaped body. You know, the proverbial hourglass figure where the sand sifted through, measuring 60 minutes worth of time. Oh I still had the same shape, but now my hourglass measured time by the year.

I had, at what point I can not remember, come to realize that middle age is God’s way of showing a sense of humor. I did not particularly find it amusing to discover that middle was when everything started to wear out, fall out or spread out. I did not chuckle when I discovered my clothes no longer fit and I was the one who needed the alterations.

I knew when I retired I was going to travel, but I noticed one day that my body parts began to travel without me. My arms seem to have grown their own wings so no matter what part of the country I was in, I could do it without benefit of train, plane or automobile. My behind didn’t know which way it wanted to go, so it just went east and west.

My triple I breasts began heading South in my late thirties and by this time were at the equator heading for the South Pole. I shouted at my breasts almost on a daily basis “go North you idiots go North!” But alas! They, like most teenagers, never did listen. I gave a deep sigh and tried to remember a time when I had small lively little breasts, when my breasts were high, firm and there was cleavage! I canceled my walk down memory lane when I realized it was too much like exercise and I began getting a headache. “I think tomorrow I will just go out and buy one of those new, lift those bosoms like they're filled with helium bras,” I thought to myself.

It was then that I realized if I wore one of those new fangled things, I’d have a chin rest. A couple of years ago, my doctor had told me to get some exercise, but I told him then, ‘Look Doc, just pushing middle age, is exercise enough.’ I also told him that my idea of weight lifting was simply standing up. I had decided not to take up jogging the year before, when briskly walking caused my thighs to rub together and set my pantyhose on fire. I wasn’t fond of the black eyes either. The older you get, the tougher it is to lose weight because by then, your body and your fat are very good friends.

On March 20th of this year, I had a breast reduction with the hopes of easing chronic back pain due to an injury I had recieved one year ago today. My equator bound breasts were now sprightly little petite C cups. I do believe the last time I saw a C was on the top of a paper I had written in junior high! The problem was these perky newly improved chest protrusions looked a bit awkward on my deluxe edition sized body. I began cutting back a little on what I ate. I didn’t change what I ate but I did cut back. Miraculously I lost 33 pounds, only 10 of which was breast.

Being out of work for this past year did a lot of damage financially and unfortunately along with the weight, I lost almost everything else as well. My beloved Francis was the first to go. Although Francis and I had only been acquainted for a year she and I grew very fond of each other very quickly. She carried me everywhere my queen sized heart desired and I in turn lubricated her chasse, rotated her tires and changed her oil every 4 months like clock work.

When I lost my home in June, some very dear friends offered theirs to me as well as their hearts. There was no catch to this offer. None whatsoever. They loved me and wanted to do for me what they felt Jesus would have done. As my contribution to their household I appointed myself as their personal chef and it seems that they have enjoyed with exuberance whatever I have created to date.

This very dear friend whom I now have the pleasure of living with loves to sew. She sews everything from wine holders to doll clothes to one size fits almost everybody pants. I call them Paulie pants. They are the most comfortable looking, lounge around the house or dining in the best of restaurants pants; all in the most delightful colors and patterns that fit every personality, every character and every shape there is. Every shape but mine that is, for I did not fit into the 'almost everybody' category. I was mortified when my measurements were taken and my Paulie pants were made by taping two patterns together.

With this said...I had been thinking about doing a blog for sometime, but I thought no one would really want to listen to my thoughts on politics, religion or the shape of the world. Since I decided after being presented with my own pair of Paulie Pants, as shockingly wonderful as they are, I knew then and there that my love of food had to take a turn for the better or I would take a turn for the worse. I also know me well enough to know that if I just say it and don’t make a commitment to someone else then I won’t really do it. So here it is.

But why publicly? Well, I got to thinking that I may not be the only one whose thoughts generally focus on food. Nor am I the only one who needs to get healthy despite ourselves. If by my sharing my life, my world and my size publicly, help will be brought to even one person then I must do exactly that. So…no matter what your size, hopefully we will all learn together. I’d love to hear your thoughts, insights, complaints, fears and I hope recipes you care to share.

If you’ve liked what you’ve read, I invite you to become one of my followers and maybe even share it with someone whose jollies could use a good chuckle or two now and again.