Julia the Vixen

Julia Child as a senior intelligence officer with the Office of Strategic Services (OSS) while in Ceylon, 1944. 
Julia referred to this pose as one of "anticipatory lechery." 

Julia Child Blog

You may want to head over to my Julia Child blog for the time being. 

I practiced de-boning a duck. (Actually a chicken.)

Confront the duck!

Julia Child

I realize I haven't been blogging much lately, but there's a reason for that.

Recently, I entered a contest of sorts in which 24 food bloggers would be selected to prepare an "over the top" meal and blog about it -- and I was selected. So, my attention has been directed toward my Julia Child blog lately. My meal will feature recipes from Mastering the Art of French Cooking and the title of the blog coverage will be, Mastering the Joy of Julia. It will take place on February 25 and will feature the following menu:

Amuse Bouche: Beluga caviar, Stolichnaya vodka

Appetizer: Pâté de Canard en Croûte -- the infamous boned, stuffed duck in pastry featured in the movie, Julie and Julia.

Wine: An Uruguayan sparkling red. 

Soup: Soupe a l'Oignon -- French onion soup.

Wine: 2010 Bin 36 Monterey Chardonnay

Entree: Sauté de Boeuf à la Parisienne -- beef filet with mushrooms in a port and cream sauce.

Sides: Asparagus with beurre blanc, pommes Parisienne, petit choux au fromage. 

Wine: 2009 Domaine Chêne Bourgogne Pinot Noir

Dessert: Bavarois aux Praline -- Almond praline Bavarian cream. 

Liqueur: Sortilège -- A maple syrup and whiskey liqueur
 

I'm already in preparation. For this meal, I'll need a quart of heavy cream, at least two pounds of butter and fourteen egg yolks. 

And a defibrillator.

A Holy Relic

In the Roman Catholic tradition, relics of saints are often venerated for their healing and mystical powers. Relics are divided into three classifications: A first-class relic is one that was directly associated with the life of Christ (part of the cross, the Holy Grail would be the holy grail of relics) or a body-part of a saint. All those are first-class relics.

A second-class relic is something that a saint owed; St. Thérèse’s rosary or her personal bible. A third-class relic would be something that touched something of hers; scraps of clothing. I think.

Even though I had spent a number of years as a Franciscan friar and a monk, I never could really “get into” the whole relic thing; probably due to my Southern Baptist upbringing. (I once filled a holy water font with plain tap water simply because I was unable to find a priest hanging around to bless it. I also put a few drops of bleach in the water, no doubt, due to my years spent as a restaurant manager.)

Like I said, I’ve never really held much veneration for holy relics – until now.

It turns out that my friend, Mike, (Michael, Mikey) had once taken a series of cooking classes taught by our dear Julia Child back in the early 90s. He was living in San Francisco at the time and these classes were being offered at an upscale hotel there.

At one point, Julia was demonstrating the use of a citrus zester (a micro-plane) and Mike mentioned that he didn’t have one.

“Well, what do you do?” she warbled. He explained that he used a box-grater to which she said that he really should have a micro-plane.

Later that day, Julia took the class to her favorite cookware establishment, Sur La Table; sort of class outing, a culinary field trip. A few moments later, Julia walked right up to Mike, held a micro-plane in his face and pronounced: “There. Now you have one!”

She had made it her mission to purchase one for him as a gift.

Last night, I was in Mike’s kitchen and asked to see the “holy lemon-zester.” I have to admit that it was just about the best micro-plane I’d ever held. It really did have a “special” feeling to it.

Here is Mike, proudly displaying a true relic.

(Technically, it’s a second-class relic, but I hate to relegate it to that level.)

When I snapped a photo of it, the light reflected off it as if it were a halo; no doubt, evidence of its supernatural qualities.

Dinner

Sunday night, I made a full-on Julia Child meal for six. All recipes from Mastering the Art of French Cooking.

Chicken Sautéed with Herbs and Garlic, Egg Yolk and Butter Sauce
Roast Potatoes (including purple ones)
Baked Tomatoes Provencale
Braised Asparagus
Petit Choux aux Fromage (which we call Cheesy Poofs, a specialty of my friend, Steve.)

Dessert: Almond Praline Bavarian Cream

Needless to say, Julia Child was a supernatural being.

I Love My Kitchen

When you have a teeny tiny kitchen like I do, workable space is at a premium. My kitchen measures 10' x 6', the wraparound counter tops take up 2 feet of that space, so the floor space of my kitchen is actually only 8' x 4'.

When working in such a limited space, one must become pretty clever at creating the most efficient use out of what you've got. Fortunately, I was able to use a brilliant idea from Julia Child.

She liked to have things incredibly organized and handy, so her husband, Paul, installed pegboard on one wall of her kitchen where she could hang pots, pans, and utensils.

Here is her impressive wall of culinary armory.

I took a look at my kitchen and noticed that I had an unused wall where I could do the pegboard thing, too. After shopping around online, I found panels of galvanized steel pegboard in various colors. My kitchen is basically yellow and blue so, naturally, I went with red pegboard.

Being that my kitchen wall is made of concrete, I had to make a trip to the "man store" (Ace Hardware) for a quarter-inch drill bit -- And borrow a drill from a friend. But after some careful measuring, I was able to successfully mount the unused wall with pegboard.

Yes, the color scheme may look a little bit like a daycare center but, after all, it's my kitchen and I like primary colors.

Cabinets were cleared out of pots and pans and I even treated myself to some new stainless steel utensils. I can't begin to tell you how good it feels to walk into my little kitchen and have all my babies surrounding me like this; all visible, within reach and ready to leap into action.

Tall people will also appreciate this layout. Julia stood six-foot-two and I nudge the underbelly of six-foot-three. No more stooping down, crouching in cabinets for that elusive sauté pan!

So, again, thanks to Julia. Not only for her work as a cookbook author, but for ideas that make my kitchen a happier place to be.

A Julia Blog

I am toying with the idea of creating a separate blog just for my Julia Child forays. I fully realize that that’s been done already by that Julie person who got her blog published and made into a movie – a blogger’s dream, really. Congrats to her.

IF I did do a Julia blog, mine would be different.

First of all, I’m a boy, so there’s that.

Next, I’m not cute and perky like Amy Adams.

My Julia blog wouldn’t be peppered with references to a spouse, a cat or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I want none of those things in my apartment.

If I screw up a recipe, (which I have), I’ll simply figure out what I did wrong, acknowledge that Julia Child is, indeed, a supreme deity, and fix it.

Case in point. Coq au Vin with mistakes and shortcuts:

Coq au Vin, second attempt, after following Julia’s Inerrant Word:

If I do create a Julia blog, I seriously doubt that I’ll prepare any recipes with liver, kidneys or brains. I’ve tried liver, kidneys and brains and I don’t like them. They make me gag and I doubt even Julia could make them appealing enough for me to enjoy.

When I was a kid, my grandmother used to make a tomato aspic that contained scallions, peas and celery. To me, it was like eating a giant, cold, blood clot. With peas. So, the aspic section will probably be skipped as well.

I’m pretty adept at boning chickens and turkeys, so I doubt that the boning of a duck will intimidate me as was portrayed in the Julie movie.

Sure, I would hope that lots of readers would enjoy my Julia blog, as I really would try to make it as entertaining as possible. A book and a movie deal would be nice, too. Jeff Daniels can play me. (See? Not cute and perky.)

I may have mentioned this before, but back in my thirties, I was a real live monk in a real live monastery. Although monastic life was extremely monotonous, there’s a part of me that misses it; I was surrounded by beauty and holiness and something bigger than myself.

Holiness, beauty, something supernatural:
Julia’s work could bring all that back.

What have I got to lose?

Coq au Vin - Reprised

Today after church, I got bored. Being that it was Sunday, I reached over for the Good Book to meditate upon it. (i.e. Mastering the Art of French Cooking.)

I was re-reading the recipe for Julia's Coq au Vin and realized that I had left out a couple of steps when I made it previously. She calls for boiling the bacon, rendering out the fat and then frying it in butter. I had simply fried it like we would for breakfast. She had also called for a half tablespoon of tomato paste and I forgot to put that in.
Dang it! 

I was bored. I missed doing the Julia thing. So I made another batch of Coq au Vin. This time, I followed her instructions explicitly; even boiling the bacon, rinsing it under cold water and frying it in butter. (Sigh - - I'll even admit that in my last attempt, I didn't saute the mushrooms in butter properly. I just moved them around in the pan, not letting them brown.) I was a bad, evil person, thinking I could tamper with the literal meaning, the intended interpretation of the Holy Scriptures.

This time, I took my time.

I got to flambé the Cognac again. That's always fun.

Another thing I noticed is that Julia wrote that Coq au Vin could be made with any wine: red, white, even Riesling. Normally it is made with red, but I got to thinking that the bitter taste may have come from using all that red wine.

It was just as well. I didn't have the requisite 3 cups of red on hand, but I did have two of the red and a cup of the leftover Sauvignon Blanc from the fricassee.
Bingo! That worked.

Can you believe this turned out even better than the last time? It just goes to show you that Julia Child has done her homework. No matter how good of a cook you think you are, follow her inerrant word.

I think this is the best thing of hers I've made thus far. 

Coq au Vin

After last week’s big Julia Child meal, I thought I might feel the need to take some time off. After all, that was a pretty heavy-duty Julia encounter. But would I want to quit the Julia endeavor?

I did not! By Wednesday, I was really anxious to see what Julia had in store for me.
Turns out, it was her famous Coq au Vin. (Rooster cooked in wine sauce)

Mind you, I’ve done the Coq au Vin thing before. Bacon, wine, chicken. Been there, done that. It often ends up tasting bitter and the sauce, limp.  Not a fun game.

So, let’s start over with Julia’s Coq.
Trust me, when you taste it, you will go

“Oh .  .  . My .  .  .  . 

GOOOODD!!!!!

I’m sorry, but you will take the name of the Lord in vain. It’s a given.

Here’s how you do it:

Read the recipe thoroughly. Reverence it.

Remember my pet peeve about bay leaves? One bay leaf does not add any flavor whatsoever. Buzz two handfulls of bay leaves in your coffee grinder. You will suddenly realize what bay leaves smell like! Use a quarter teaspoon in this recipe.

Stir 2 Tbs of flour into 3 TBS butter and set aside.  (Butter & flour = easy as pie.)

It calls for six ounces of bacon.  A packet comes to 16 oz, one pound. Each slice equals one once (My God, when will we ever switch to Metric???) Really, just divide the packet into three portions.  Freeze two.

Fry the bacon. Meanwhile, boil the pearl onions so you can de-oinion them.

Saute the chicken in the bacon fat. (Julia’s recipe calls for a 3-lb chicken cut up. Yes, this tastes wonderful, but I really don’t like dealing with chicken skin, bones, and gristle. Opt for 2 lbs of boneless, skinless, chicken thighs instead.) Although this recipe was originally developed to use an old rooster past his prime, it's not like likely any of use live in a French farmhouse. Use store-bought chicken.

Saute the onions in butter, then cook them down with chicken stock until syrupy.
Saute the mushrooms in butter.

After the chicken has been fried in bacon fat, flame that sucker with ½ cup of cognac. Don’t be afraid! Flames are fun. Flames make food taste good!

After you have spoken with the building's automatic alarm people assuring them you're not on fire, add the onions to the chicken.
Then the mushrooms.

Then the wine

Bring to a boil and stir some of it into the butter-flour slurry. (This is so that it won't go lumpy when added to the rest)

Add the butter-flour slurry to the simmering chicken. Lower the heat and simmer for about 30 minutes.

Serve over white rice or noodles. Be prepared to exclaim totally inappropriate things when you taste this at the dinner table.
It's that good.

The Julia Meal

Julia Child still continues to amaze me. After preparing six recipes from her book for a dinner party yesterday, I cannot begin to comprehend the amount of work that went her opus, Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Composing the recipes, testing, re-testing, perfecting them -- that amount of work boggles my mind.

Here’s a recap of last night’s meal.

First, I stopped by Best Buy and purchased a new camera on my way to Jack and Steve’s place who were hosting the dinner. Steve, ever the electronic guru, promptly programmed the camera for me. (I didn’t know they had internal dates and clocks -- imagine that.)

Our friend, Karen, brought some lovely Roquefort and Wisconsin Gruyere along with champagne for us to enjoy while everyone arrived. She also supplied some incredible wine pairings for the meal.

I got to their place at noon -- dinner was at 7:00 pm. Steve was a wonderful kitchen-angel, cleaning up behind me and keeping things organized. I would put down and balloon-whisk and within minutes, Steve had it washed, dried and returned to the balloon whisk-section of the appropriate drawer. The kitchen would have probably looked like a meteor crater had he not been there.

He also sets an incredible table. Thank god -- it's something I've seldom enjoyed. 

Since this was a Julia Child dinner and a French one at that, it seemed that I was constantly at the sink separating egg yolks.

Two dozen yolks were used in this meal.

Dear, sweet Portia was at her usual post by the kitchen door, ever ready for a treat.

First, Fonds d'Artichauts au Mayonnaise (Steamed artichokes with mayonnaise) 

Julia’s mayonnaise is made by hand, whisking oil into egg yolks, drop by drop at first. Then in her page-long instructions, part of which she instructs you to whisk at the rate of two strokes per second, she lets you know that “the crisis is over” and you can whisk in the oil a bit more rapidly. The stuff is amazing.

Here is a serving of the main meal:
Fricasée de Poulet a La’Ancienne  (Old Fashioned Chicken Fricassee) Chicken cooked in white wine and a cream-egg-yolk sauce.
Tomates á La Provençale (Baked tomatoes with fines herbs)
Asperges au Sauce Maltaise (Asparagus with orange-flavored Hollandaise)

Steve made Julia's Petit Choux au Fromage (Cheese Puffs) which were passed around.

The dessert was really a showcase.
Bavarois aux Fraises (Bavarian Cream with Strawberries)

It involved making an egg-yolk and cream custard, then whipped cream, then egg whites, then a strawberry puree, adding some gelatin to the puree, folding it all together and letting it set up in the fridge and serving it with the strawberry puree. Again, this was one of those recipes that showed off the main ingredient -- strawberries. It really was an incredible dessert.

I didn't take photos of the steps along the way for I really didn't want to mess something up. Custard can curdle in a second if the heat's too high. Mayonnaise has a crisis point while making it. And I'm really not adept at doing two things at once.

One principle of cooking that was reiterated is that you have to continually taste everything as you go along the way. This is crucial.

Case in point: As instructed, I had added some grated orange peel to the hollandaise, tasted it and said, "This tastes rancid!" The oranges I had been supplied with were the most beautiful, juicy, tasty oranges you would ever want, but it turned out that the peelings had absolutely no orange flavor at all; just a burning, acrid taste.

I started to dump the whole thing and make a plain hollandaise or maybe head in a Bearnaise direction. A few drops of lemon juice and a pinch of sugar straightened it out though. But that just goes to show you that you should taste everything as you go -- even grated orange peel.

Again, I have even more admiration for Julia Child. How she found the fortitude to test and perfect the hundreds of complicated recipes contained in Mastering the Art of French Cooking, I'll never know. (And that was just the first of many cookbooks the woman created.)

When I see the work that went into this book and the drive it must have taken to produce it, I cannot help but wonder how she did it. As far as I'm concerned, something supernatural was behind it all. . . .

_______________________________________

The next morning -- I awoke in time to get ready for choir rehersal. My stomach was a bit queasy from all the rich food. The plantar fasciitis was killing me from having stood so much. Leg muscles were sore from striking a continual egg-separating pose.
Pepto Bismol with a Valium chaser straightened everything out.

Big Julia Meal Tomorrow

My Julia Child rampage through Mastering the Art of French Cooking continues unabated. Tomorrow, (Saturday) I’m preparing a Julia meal for eight friends.

Fonds d'Artichauts au Mayonnaise (Steamed artichokes with mayonnaise) Julia’s mayonnaise was the first recipe she ever perfected. Believe me, you have not tasted mayonnaise until you’ve tasted her recipe for it and method of making it. The artichokes are simply a conduit for the mayonnaise.

Fricasée de Poulet a La’Ancienne (Old Fashioned Chicken Fricassee) This time, the variation with tarragon -- one of my favorite herbs.

Tomates á La Provençale (Baked tomatoes with fines herbs)

Asperges au Sauce Maltaise (Asparagus with orange-flavored Hollandaise)

Bavarois aux Fraises (Bavarian Cream with Strawberries)

I will post photos, reviews and wine pairings. I’m awfully excited.

Miss Healthypants is coming over tonight for the leftover daube.

Daube de Boeuf á La Provençale

I’m still on my Julia Child kick. Actually, it’s turning into more of an obsession. After all, ‘too much of a good thing’ is, in my opinion, hardly enough.

Last night’s recipe was Daube de Boeuf which is a casserole of beef with wine and vegetables. Then, I saw that Julia had provided a variation, Daube de Boeuf á La Provençale which included the addition of anchovies, capers and garlic. Anything with anchovies, and I’m on board. Besides, life’s too short to overlook the variations.

As usual, you begin by cutting the beef into cubes and chopping the onions.

Julia calls for fresh tomatoes that are skinned, seeded and chopped. I was tempted to bung in a can of chopped tomatoes, but I followed her recipe. To skin the tomatoes, drop them in boiling water until the skins begin to pull away, plunk them in cold water and slip their skins right off.

Dealing with fresh tomatoes is a tedious and lonely affair. . .

Marinate the beef in white wine along with the carrots, onions, and herbs.

As with many recipes, it calls for one bay leaf.

Okay, let’s talk for a moment about this ‘one bay leaf’ thing. For the life of me, I could never see how one dried up leaf can impart any flavor at all. I’d be willing to bet that if you made a recipe with one bay leaf and one without, no one would be able to tell the difference. Really.

So, I pulverized the bay leaf in a coffee grinder that I use just for spices.

Okay, I got ‘the bay leaf thing’ off my chest. . .

Julia says to marinate the beef for three hours. It was getting late so I let it marinate long enough for me to watch Modern Family. I realize that such blatant disregard for Julia’s work should be a felonious offense, but I hadn’t read the recipe ahead of time as closely as I should and the three-hour marinade came as a surprise.

After the marinating is complete, remove the beef, dust with flour and set aside. Now, you begin layering everything in a casserole beginning with bacon. (Always a good beginning.)

Bacon, onions, mushrooms, tomatoes, beef. . .
Bacon, onions, mushrooms, tomatoes, beef. . .
Bacon, onions, mushrooms, tomatoes, beef. . .

Pour the white wine marinade over it all, enough beef stock to cover and shove it in the oven for 2 ½ hours. Your dwelling will be infumed with a heavenly scent.

Oh, did I tell you that my kitchen still has the original cabinets from 1964? They’re yellow, metal cabinets. At first, they’re the most hideous things ever, but the retro appeal is something I’d never want to part with.

Toward the end of the cooking, you mash together a tin of anchovies, capers, olive oil, white wine vinegar and garlic. Mix that in and bake it for another half hour.

At the end, whisk in butter.

While this dish was not as appealing as the boeuf bourguignon or the chicken fricassee, to me anyway, I could not stop eating it. Nor did a take a photo of the final product. (I can update that later.)

What I love about Julia's recipes is that they always come out perfect. There's never any need to "adjust seasonings" or "thicken if necessary." To be honest, working from her book is the first time I have ever followed a recipe. The woman has done her homework and I love what I'm learning -- about cooking, about French food, and about myself.

There’s plenty of daube left. It makes a huge amount.

My neighbors will be well-fed.

Julia Child Rules

My first recipe from Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking was such a hit, (I didn’t want to the leftover Boeuf Bourguignon to end -- and I’m practically a vegetarian.) so I decided to search her book for something really tasty and “French" for my next recipe.

Fricasée de Poulet a La’Ancienne seemed like the perfect next choice. (Old- Fashioned Chicken Fricasse with Wine-flavored Cream Sauce, Onions and Mushrooms) It involves chicken cooked in mushrooms, onions, and a sauce of chicken stock, cream, egg yolks and butter. An egg-yolk and butter sauce.
Wow. That’s what appealed to me.

Julie, from the famed Julie/Julia Child project, whimpered and failed at this sauce. (She really was a whiney little sylph.) Other writers have balked at this culinary feat. The egg-yolk-cream-boiling-stock concoction is  known to curdle and break.
Cool! Love it!
I could definitely get my culinary man-boots on with this recipe.  I was now Mike Rowe, the Dirty Jobs guy, for Julia Child.
I really wanted someone to fist-bump someone as I got out my little six-pack of organic eggs.
“Let’s do it!”  

First, you have to lay 'The Testament' out in a proper place and give it due homage. Please bow your heads. . . . . . um, I’m serious.
Bow your head and reverence the Holy Book (High Anglican rubrics will suffice.)

Open the page and read the recipe thoroughly,
Thrice at least; including all recipe-appendices. 

Note: It is imperative that each page (pictured) should be well-worn and splattered with your efforts (mine.)

If you’re single and a Julia-worshipper like myself, subsequent great-and great-great-nephews should be able to admire evidence of your great legacy that you’ve provided for them long after you’re gone. Do not pass this up.

Saute onions and carrots in butter. Julia calls for celery as well, but I don’t like celery so I left it out. I should be arrested, I realize that.

Cut up a 3-lb chicken for this recipe. I don’t like wings and drumsticks in any “stewed” chicken, so I opted for bone-in, skin-on thighs. They’re tasty, juicy, and cook evenly.
Unfortunately, my market didn’t have any thighs at all. However, they did have boned, ribbed breasts. ("A good cook will make do with whatever is handy," says JC) If ribbed breasts are what you're presented with, then cut the ribs out and away like I’m doing here.

A very sharp knife and a bit of bravery will certainly do the trick. One should always be supplied with both while in the kitchen. (Can't you just hear Julia saying this?)

Many chefs say to bag the leftover chicken bits and save them in the freezer to make chicken stock. That’s a grand idea if you plan to make gallons of chicken stock every week. If you live alone like me, bagging and tossing raw chicken bones down a 50-floor trash chute is advisable.  It's certainly a bit of fun as well.

Julia says to cook the chicken pieces “for 3 or 4 minutes until the meat has stiffened slightly, without coloring to more than a light golden yellow.”
My first reaction was to say, “Sorry, Julia. But yellow chicken in a pan is a pallid and paltry affair. In my opinion, browned chicken tastes better.” But I followed her instructions. (Later, you’ll see why I’m glad I did and you should too.) Dust the chicken with 3 Tbs of flour and ½ tsp white pepper.

Lower the heat under the chicken and boil 3 cups of chicken stock in a separate saucepan. My apartment still has the original 1964 G.E. push-button harvest-gold electric stove and I really love the darn thing

-- I also have a Harvest Gold Trimline rotary-dial wall phone to match. You can still call me on it and I'll answer, just like Bob Newhart, even with an original 312 Area Code.

Add the boiling chicken stock.

Add one cup of white wine (I like a Sauvignon Blanc for cooking --  I recall that Julia does, too, even though it wasn‘t really around back in 1961.)

Transfer all the chicken and liquid to a heavy, enameled casserole. (America’s Test Kitchen says that Le Creuset’s enameled casseroles are the best.) Here is a new one, a seven-quart blue one for $270. You’ll see mine in the photos --  I got it on eBay for 40 bucks. When it comes to snatching cookware, I can be an eBay puma. Grrr.

Mushrooms -- they all say “don’t wash mushrooms! Just wipe them with a damp cloth!” (All TV chefs say this, but have you ever seen any TV chef actually do that?)
Why?  Supposedly, fresh mushrooms will absorb water. So?
I’m going to immerse them all in a heavy sauce. Why not wash off all the dung in which they’ve been grown?
I heartily wash my dungy mushrooms in a clean colander under Chicago tap water.
 Living on the edge. . . .

Pearl onions: This is my 2nd Julia recipe that calls for 18-24 pearl onions. In my first Julia recipe, I spent an inordinate amount of time peeling 18-24 of the little suckers. Here’s a hint that will totally rock your world: (Julia doesn't reveal this until her 1972 edition of The Way to Cook.)
Boil them for five minutes,

and rinse under cold water.
Cut off the root end with a paring knife, squeeze the other end and the onion will pop right out, sans peeling.
Blurp!. . . .Blurp-blurp!

Add the peeled onions to the chicken. And bring to a roiling simmer.

 Mushrooms: For this recipe, just saute them in just a little bit of butter, less than you’d think, but add lemon juice and a touch of water.

Now get ready for the “real cooking.” Here’s the good part, folks:
Transfer the chicken and onions to an awaiting, separate saucepan and bring the chicken-broth/white wine mixture to a simmer. Make sure it's now thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. You know. . .

Then, in a stainless steel mixing bowl, whisk together 2 egg yolks and ½ cup of heavy cream.

Keep whisking. We’re about to do the Classical French sauce thing. Say a prayer to Julia, for She is with you. Meditate upon her Testament and remember that you followed all the previous instructions to the letter. (Remember not to brown the chicken and to add just the right amount of broth and white wine, right?) If you're right-handed, set the egg-cream bowl to the right of the simmering broth.
Then, while whisking continuously, spoon in the simmering broth to the egg-cream mixture, one tablespoon at a time until you’ve incorporated 8 ounces: 16 Tablespoons. If you do one tablespoon at a time, it should take you 16 spoonfuls.Don't add it too fast or it will cook the egg yolks.
You should see the little bit of egg-yolk and cream mixture “blossom” and increase in volume by quite a bit.
Oooh! Like this!

(God! It was like Julia was chorteling along with me). I almost cried.
This sauce worked! It really worked!
Then, I tasted the sauce, thinking it might need salt or something.  
It was then . . . I wept.
I really did! It was so surprising! It tasted that good! Even though I’m from Texas, and I only do the big-salty-tears thing once or twice every six, maybe seven months, tops, the taste of this sauce made me cry.
Wow. That's a new one on me. 

But then, it gets even better. . . .
I transferred the mushrooms, chicken and onions back to the awaiting sauce, simmered it and tasted it.
Oh My Gosh! (Grasping the wall behind me) So that’s what chicken should taste like! Beforehand, I was thinking of adding tarragon and a splash of vermouth to the sauce to make it more tasty and “French.” but when I tasted how “chicken-ey” and delicious this dish was on its own, there was no way I could alter it.

Even though I’d bought store-brand, garden-variety chicken, Julia’s recipe was the most delicious “chicken-ey” thing I’d ever tasted.  This recipe is a true example of how simple ingredients, brought together in a precise manner, can truly elevate the taste of what was intended. In this case, it was chicken. 

Bottom Line: Don't futz with Julia's recipes. Believe me, she's done the work. All along the way, I wanted to "do this" or "change that" or "add this", thinking I knew a lot about cooking (which I do.)

I've read quite a bit of Julie's blog, the one that inspired the Julie and Julia movie. I really can't relate to what she's done. Sure, her work resulted in a book and movie deal, but it seems to me that every one of her attempts at Julia's recipes is presented as an obstacle to overcome.
I, on the other hand, love what Julia brings about in me -- each recipe is a surprising opportunity to create astoundingly delicious French cuisine.
That's it.
Pure, unalloyed pleasure.
Julie uses the f-word quite a bit and, to me, that's just unnecessary, it exhibits literary laziness, and my generation just didn't say that word at all. Julie also seems to whine quite a bit and comes across as awfully self-obsessed.
Whenever I read her blog, I find myself saying, "Just shut the fuck up and cook!"

Perhaps Julie's legacy is that she got me to write the f-word on my blog.
Julia's Fricasée made me cry.