As I was re-watching yet another episode of “The French Chef”, I couldn’t help but realize that I was literally following in the same footsteps of “The Chef” herself. See, according to her book, “My Life in Paris”, (which I’ve only read, let’s say 5 or 6 times… until it got destroyed by a toilet flood. I was willing to save it, but the wilted cover and the reeking pages told me not too.) Julia Child has to follow her love Paul around the world for his government attaché position.
Granted Julia had about 25 years on me, a gigantesque apartment overlooking the waterfront on “Roo de Loo”, and a much larger disposable income for all of the beautiful copper pots and pans Paul was willing to indulge, I find myself coming to the end of a séjour in my own little Paris. In less than 3.5 weeks I will find myself kitchenless, gadgetless and about 200 sq ft less in the actual city of Paris.. for what other reason than to follow my Government workin’ Bri… and of course to discover new opportunities of my own… I could never be “one of those American housewives that sit around the house WONDERING what to do!” Like Julia I must be kept busy, find my passion.
What’s fabulous however is now I get to discover the “Real Paris”. My fear, however, is that the Paris painted in such a romantic way by Julia’s interpreter (she was older when she got around to talking about her life) will only leave me exasperated and gulping for air. All of the culinary delights that I would have wanted to discover have only been publicized and commercialized. I looked at potentially going to that famous Cordon Bleu, but unlike Julia Child, when faced with the price I couldn’t just say, “Le prix est peu important!” I quickly clicked the x button on that window.
Bri keeps telling me that I have a talent, that it’s more than just “You cook because we have to eat, it’s like you cook because you love to cook!”, It’s true that I have always had a passion for cooking. I remember being a toddler and crawling into my mother’s spice cupboard to stick my little nose in the spice rack. I’d close my eyes, take a deep smell and remember the name… of course there were times it was a bad idea (like the big whiff of Cayenne Pepper). So maybe this change will spark even more of the passion in my soul, perhaps I will shout from the Parisien rooftops “Bon APPETIT!”
So as the countdown continues and my days in Lyon are numbered I am trying to look through the eyes of Julia Child… I mean Julia would never have been Julia without her perseverance, intelligence, ability to adapt to any situation, optimism… and of course Paul Child.
Who knows, maybe I can become the next generation of Julia… of course it would only transpire the passion and never be capable of meeting the same level… there are just too many wanna-be gastronomes… although I would love to be the founder of the next Gourmandes, except this time for the young gourmands.