看了这部《Julie&Julia》，

喜欢上了Julia Child,

喜欢上了Julie Powell,

喜欢上了爱生活爱厨房的生活，

于是在网上找到Julie之前的BLOG和现在的OFFICAL BLOG，

这两天一直在看，于是决定去买本书来看~~

还有Julia的这本书《Mastering The Art of French Cooking》现在还找的到么~

Julie的一篇文章~~

I don’t know what to say.

Julia Child was ninety-one years old when she died, late yesterday, in her sleep. It’s the death that all of us want, after a life so full it would seem she was one of history’s true lucky souls, if only luck had had anything to do with it. She enriched the lives of thousands – my life she quite literally turned around. She died well-loved, and I hope she died well-fed. There is no tragedy here. It’s a day for remembrance, and celebration.

So why am I so fucking sad?

I heard this morning. I was working on my book – I’m always working on my book, only “freaking out over” would probably be a better term – when the emails started pouring in. Condolences from my relatives, and my friends, and my blog-friends, comforting me as if I was suffering the loss of a family member. I never met Julia Child. I have no particular reason to think she’d even have liked me if I had. I have no claim over the woman at all, unless it’s the claim those who have nearly drowned have over the person who pulled them out of the ocean. And yet I do feel this loss personally, as a great six-foot-two hole in my world.

Julia Child began learning to cook when she was thirty-seven years old. She started because she wanted to feed her husband Paul. She started because though she’d fallen in love with great food late, when she did she’d fallen hard. She started because she was in Paris. She started because she didn’t know what else to do.Who knows how it happens, how you come upon your essential gift? For this was hers. Not the cooking itself so much – lots of people cook better than Julia. Not even the recipes – others can write recipes. What was Julia’s true gift, then? She certainly had enormous energy, and that was a sort of gift, if a genetic one – perhaps the one thing about her you can pin down on the luck of the draw. She was a great teacher, certainly – funny, and generous, and enthusiastic, with so much overbrimming confidence that she had nothing to do with the surplus but start doling it out to others. But she also had a great gift for learning. Perhaps that was the talent she discovered in herself at the age of 37, at the Cordon Bleu School in Paris – the thirst to keep finding out, the openness to experience that makes life worth living.

She was no bending reed, of course. She had no use for silly,
fear-driven food fads; she could be set in her ways, even mulish, and
when she wanted to she could be withering. That’s fine. That’s good
even. We don’t need saints. Who changes their life under the
influence of a saint? Okay – don’t answer that. But the point is –
Julia was so impressive, so instructive, so exhilarating, because she
was a woman, not a goddess. Julia didn’t create armies of drones,
mindlessly equating her name with taste and muttering “It’s a Good
Thing” under their minty breath. Instead she created feisty, buttery,
adventurous cooks, always diving in to the next possible disaster,
because goddammit, if Julia did it, so could we.

This morning, I was writing about lobster murder. As anyone who’s
here will remember, Julia’s instructions for Homard a l’Americaine were
particularly troubling. Now, bisecting a living lobster is not an easy
thing to do – not for the cook, and certainly not for the lobster. I
still feel a little bad about it, and this morning I was writing
something maybe a little resentful about how I had visited this torture
on a crustacean on Julia’s directive.

She told me I could do it, so I did, and it was hard. I don’t ever,
ever want to do it again – not for her, not for anybody. But it was
important that I do it once. Killing that lobster made me face up to a
lot of stuff that bothers me – stuff about responsibility, and hard
decisions, and carving (bad word, maybe) a place in the world I can be
comfortable in. I would not have done it without Julia to tell me –
“Go ahead – What could happen?”

There’s so much I would not have done. Because it would not have been
there for me to do. Without you here, I would be a different person –
a smaller, a sadder, a more frightened person.

So thank you Julia. Thank you.

I don’t believe in this kind of thing, and I sort of get the feeling
you don’t either, but I’m going to make an exception in your case. I’m
going to choose to believe that tonight, you’re eating sole meunieré,
with Paul, and you’re lifting a glass to toast whatever comes next.

Bon Appetit.

刚刚在网上找到了一份Julia的Recipe!!!haaahaa!!

MSN空间完美搬家到新浪博客!