Top | my kitchen
(post, Kim Carlson)
In case you didn't see it, here's the text from today's newsletter: I’m in the middle of [/content/3746 "My Life in France"], Julia Child’s account of living in Paris during the 1950s. The text is rich with descriptions of that time and place, but I’m also loving Julia’s approach to cooking. One page I marked was about her self-imposed rule never to apologize for a dish: “I don’t believe in twisting yourself into knots of excuses and explanations over the food you make. When one’s hostess starts in with self-deprecations such as ‘Oh, I don’t know how to cook …’ or ‘Poor little me …’ or ‘This may taste awful …’ it is so dreadful to have to reassure her that everything is delicious and fine, whether it is or not. Besides, such admissions only draw attention to one’s shortcomings (or self-perceived shortcomings), and make the other person think, ‘Yes, you’re right, this really is an awful meal!’ … “Usually one’s cooking is better than one thinks it is. And if the food is truly vile, as my ersatz eggs Florentine surely were, then the cook must simply grit her teeth and bear it with a smile — and learn from her mistakes.” Hear that, cooks? No apologies! And the happiest of Thanksgivings to you and yours.