Between the Pages: Life in France, by Julia Child

So, I haven't written in forever (I attribute this to making friends in Ecuador, returning to the USA, figuring out my future, but, most importantly the mysterious breaking of my camera)--I have been enjoying life in Minnesota for the summer.

Recently while in the Boundary Waters (more details to come) Julia Child's memoir My Life in France has allowed me to travel to France and back. Her words led me to laughter, introspection, and deep motivation to follow my passions--all without sentimentality. I liked her voice, hyperbole, and flair. Notable, underlined quotes:

"In France, cooking is a serious art form and a national sport."

I like this idea of serious creative work...as well as competition. She was ahead of her times, would Julia have liked Top Chef?

"Find something you're passionate about and keep tremendously interested in it."

"Upon reflection, I decided I had three main weaknesses: I was
confused (evidenced by a lack of facts, an inability to coordinate my
thoughts, and an inability to verbalize my ideas); I had a lack of
confidence, which cause me to back down from forcefully stated
positions; and I was overly emotional at the expense of careful, 'scientific'
though. I was thirty-seven years old and still discovering who I was."

So with this inspiration at my heels...I gave my shot at a Julia-inspired meal. I consider this a good use of a family of eager foodie guinea-pigs. The Salade Lyonnaise recipe I found online was a hit. Buttery croutons, greens, oil-dijon vinagrette, topped with a poached egg. This melt in your mouth character may be partially due to the bacon oil--but, hey Julia lived to be ninety-two. So, live it up sometimes, right?



The shining star of the meal was a Coq au Vin over a bed of pasta and accompanied with a side of peas. Coq au Vin--chicken, pearl onions, carmelized mushrooms, bacon bits (of course!), red wine, chicken broth, garlic, herbs. The dish simmered in a dutch oven (which I learned is really a huge covered iron pot). Trick: the best way to peel the pearl onions is to blanch them first.


New cooking terms courtesy of Epicurious food dictionary:
lardons; lardoons--diced bacon or other lard meat.

poach--to cook in a liquid just below boiling point (poached eggs are best done in slightly salted water with a bit of vinegar to help the egg retain shape)

blanch--to plunge food (usually produce) into boiling water briefly and then into cold water, as to stop the cooking process. Firms flesh, loosesns skins, boosts color and flavor. Used for bacon in main dish and to peel pearl onions.

The meal was a hit, I listened to perhaps cliché French music while cooking, mostly from the soundtrack to An Education.

Do I wish I had Julia's final masterpiece cookbook, Mastering the Art of French Cooking? Yes, it seems very romantic to page through it while dirtying the pages with sauces and marinades--but as the "recent" release of Julie and Julia has jacked up the prices of used copies on Amazon to near full price, internet recipes will make due for now.

I leave you with Chef Child's final words from her memoir: "Learn to cook--try new recipes, learn from your mistakes, be fearless, and above all have fun!"

December 4th, 2009

Quito to Minneapolis....
I have been in Ecuador almost two months. Today I am returning home for interviews and Christmas at home.

I am bursting at the seams with the thought of being home during December. From a logistical standpoint, this makes little sense. It will be dark at 5pm, or earlier. It will be cold. It will be colorless, particularly if there is no snow. The drab earthly rotting hues permeate every corner. Nonetheless, it is that very drabness that allows the shining Christmas lights to glow against evergreen and beneath a blanket of snow. It is the coldness that validates my choice to drink tea, coffee, and hot chocolate. It is the damp cold that urges us to build a fire in the fireplace. It is the quiet darkness of twilight that begs conversation, music, and laughter to break the silence.

I already am anticipating that I will be ready to go back to the Ecuadorian coast at the end of this month. The lure of balmy temperatures, sunshine strong enough to wipe out any SADD sufferer’s worst symptoms, and tropical fruits not at import prices. More than clime, the privilege of being a part of an amazing Ecuadorian family, my observation/volunteer work in the hospital/clinic, and making new friends leaves me more than excited at the prospect of spending several more months south of the Equator.

For now, I am bracing myself for the 18-degree temperatures awaiting me in the tundra-land. I am trying not to think about how I just paid $3.20 for a bottle of water at the Miami airport (that costs 25 cents in Ecuador). I am strangely comforted by the words of the tattoo-covered customs officer in Miami, “Welcome home.”