Bless this food

It finally happened. The moment I've been waiting for since January 27th. As I have (slowly) carried on through My Life in France, my desire has grown to taste some true Julia Child French cooking. Heaven knows that I wouldn't attempt one of Her dishes (at least not while I'm sharing a kitchen with 6 girls), but I have been more than willing to let someone else try it out. And someone did. This weekend I made a very wise decision to trek home with a friend, wise because unbeknownst to me her mother was preparing bouef a la  bourguignonne (known to the Anglophone eye as beef bourguignon). Beef bourguignon? Beef bourgiugNON?! She had chosen one of Julia's masterpieces. They serve that in heaven.

Mastering the Art of French Cooking is a product of a whole lot of slave labor. Even the title took a few hundred suggestions before the active verb "mastering" tipped it off. Those recipes are nothing to be messed with. They call for intensive cookery, something I cannot offer. In fact, I'm afraid to try one of Julia's recipes. Now that I know all the sweat and toil that went into the book, I wouldn't dare alter even 5 minutes of the the 3 hour cooking, or a grain in the pinch of salt. I know that She would be watching me, marking how many plats I'm served in heaven for all the good Julia deeds I do down here. She's watching all of us, judging us. Don't let Her jolly demeanor fool you.