Mastering the Art

Last night I got to sneak out and see Julie & Julia. I LOVED it. For many reasons. I loved the relationships, the actors and their performances, the food. I actually wrote a whole blog post in my mind while nursing Maya at midnight last night. But it's too bad that thoughts can't transfer straight to blogdom, because they all dissolved into dreamland. Suffice it to say, I wish I owned the film, and could watch it immediately. Right now. While eating brie, bread, and grapes.
I laughed my way through the entire film. And when it was over I did what any responsible food-loving, fellow blogger would do—I walked right into Barnes and Noble and bought the last copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking! I then felt immediately idiotic. The book store, being right next to the theater, was totally on to this trend. When I went up to pay, the guy at the register said (in a half-chuckle), " Did Julie & Julia just let out? This is our last copy. You got lucky!" So I did what anyone in this situation would do. I lied. "No, it's just a gift." (Well it IS a gift to myself...) He looked doubtful, but I felt really silly rushing in to the store JUST to buy a cookbook that I would never have otherwise bought, right after being inspired by a movie. Hmmmm. Do you think I am crazy? Paranoid? Possibly. :) But either way, I walked happily back to my car, book in hand.

So I have resolved to do just what Julie did in the movie. I am going to cook all of the recipes in 365 days time.

YEAH RIGHT!!!

No, I promise I am going to do just the opposite. I actually have the book on my bed stand, not in the kitchen. I started reading the foreword last night. I know that most of the recipes in this volume will have to be saved for a later, more child-free period of my life. But I hope to take away some of her wonderful methods and more simple fare for now. And while realism is mostly holding me back from tackling the feat of French food, I realized something while thumbing through the pale pages last night. The REAL reason I know that I am not so much suited for the content of the book, is because of my reaction to the book itself. Instead of drooling over ingredients, I found myself admiring the teal and rust color choice for the cover design. (The pastedown and fly leaf are the same rich teal—delightful discovery!) I fingered the delicate gold leaf flourish adorning the cover. I beamed when I noticed that on the last page of the book that they listed—prominently—the typeface that the book was printed in. I admired the subtle tooth of the cream paper stock. Sigh. I can't deny that my forte lies not in the kitchen, but on the keyboard. I should be wielding a mouse and pen, not a mortar and pestle. My paper of choice is watercolor, rather than wax. And while I admire and enjoy the culinary arts, the graphic arts are what keep me happy and well. "They are the butter to my bread; the breath to my life."

In the mean time, I'll be looking into hiring a cook. I pay in blog design and notecards. Any takers?