Julie & Julia and me

A week back I saw the movie Julie & Julia. The film interweaves the somewhat similar lives of Julie Powell (Amy Adams) and Julia Child (Meryl Streep), two women separated by half a century.

Julie Powell lives in Manhattan of 2002. She has a supporting and lovable husband Eric. She has an unsatisfying and a sad job. Her failed attempts at writing books have left her disillusioned. Her one solace is cooking.

Julia Child is the wife of a diplomat who finds herself living in Paris in 1949 because of her husband's posting. With nothing to do she starts taking classes to learn cooking. In doing so she discovers a passion and talent for it. Starting as a student she goes on to co-author a book, Mastering the Art of French Cooking. The publishing of the book was a journey of quite a few years during which she gets immense support from her husband Paul.

Julie Powell is an admirer of Julia Child. In order to give direction to her life she decides to take up a "project" of cooking all of the 536 recipes of Julia Child's famous book in 365 days. She also starts chronicling her day-to-day experiences of this project in a blog. As the year progresses the blog gains popularity and so does Julie. After a story about it in the New York Times she is contacted by several publishers and agents who are keen on turning her blog into a book. The film ends with Julie succeeding in accomplishing her mission followed by her getting to see the print copy of her first book titled Julie & Julia.

Comparing my behviour in the kitchen to the two lead characters I realized I am more like Julie Powell. There is a scene in the film in which in trying to bone a duck Julie Powell accidently spills the entire contents on the floor. The result is an angry woman venting fire and tears at the same time lying resolutely on the messy floor. It reminded me of one Sunday morning when I acted worse than this.

The story goes that I had begun the day by cleaning every nook and cranny of my kitchen. Having done with that I collected all the necessary ingredients in the mixer for making an onion chutney to have with dosas for breakfast. I made a little puree first and then added some more onions to it. But when this time I twisted the mixer knob it generated such a force that everything came spilling out. I was shell shocked. The chutney had spared nothing. Portions of it had landed on the walls, the slab, the stove, the nearby microwave, the floor, and ofcourse me. It was horrifying seeing what my squeaking clean kitchen had been turned into within 5 seconds. Angrily I cursed the mixer and myself. Mouthing venom and crying like a lunatic I attacked the kitchen with a duster and water raging vengence. I was a riot!

In my defense I am emotional when it comes to cooking. When dishes turn out well and I see my husband eating happily it is like the best compliment ever. But when its not so, it upsets me as if I have failed as the woman of the house in some big way.

I definitely must try to become like Julia Child. Her nature was so mild. She never blew up. Most importantly she was a happy cook. She enjoyed every bit of it whether she was able to flip the contents of the pan properly or not.

From this day forth I resolve to take things lightly in my trysts with cooking. :-)