Cooking with Julia

Yes, I’m going to jump on this train, because it’s traveling in the direction I want to go. Having enjoyed the film Julie and Julia, and having received a copy of Julia Child’s memoir My Life in France from a friend and a copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking from my husband, what else could I do?

I don’t intend to cook through the book in a year and blog about it; I’m not such a copycat as that. But from time to time I’ll share with you the dishes I make, starting with the classic Boeuf Bourguignon, Beef Stew in Red Wine, with Bacon, Onions, and Mushrooms.

Everything Julia says about boeuf bourguignon is true. It truly is “one of the most delicious beef dishes concocted by man.” The recipe does require a bit of fuss. First, you have to simmer lardons of bacon and then crisp them in oil. Next, you have to cut three pounds of beef chuck roast into cubes, pat them thoroughly dry and brown them a few pieces at a time before getting on with the rest of the stew. Finally, you have to braise pearl onions in beef stock and sauté mushrooms in butter, both separately.

But when you eat the results, you will be eager for your next day off so that you can go through the whole process all over again. I know I am. Mostly I want to make the dish again because we ate almost every bit of it. Granted, I got to take the small amount of leftovers to work for my lunch the next day (cook’s privilege!), but we three adults and two children easily put away nearly three pounds of boeuf bourguignon. In one sitting. It is that good.

And I want some more. We all do.

In the film, three people—Julia, Julie, and Judith Jones, the editor at Knopf who first saw Mastering for what it is worth—cook boeuf bourguignon, and each time the making of the dish contains three visual elements, patting the beef dry (an essential technique for browning the meat, the discovery of which Julia raves about in her memoir), pouring in the burgundy, and lifting the lid of the casserole to inhale the savory aroma. As I completed these iconic tasks, and as I contemplated the trouble I had taken to follow Child’s directions precisely, I realized the point of the dish. Cooking is partly about following directions. Precision of direction, in fact, is one of the hallmarks of Mastering, a book that contains six pages of notes and variations on the humble poached egg. Child intended the book to be so precise that any American woman could use it to duplicate the flavors of Child’s beloved France. But cooking is about more than following directions, and Child knew this. Cooking is about discovery, cooking is about sharing, cooking is about joy. The point of making boeuf bourguignon is to experience the joy of the dish.

If that's not a joyful face, what, pray tell, is?