Month: August 2012

You know, it still strikes me as odd that the people I cooked and ate with for five years in Scotland had no idea who Julia Child might be.

The Village @ Studio City, LA, has a drink named after her – The Honey Child. The Weeks Rose Growers named a golden floribunda after her. Multiple children bear her name – not the least New York Times food writer Julia Moskin. She is a household name, having been on TV since – sheesh, the 60’s. She’s been in syndication on public broadcasting stations, parodied and taken pride in by generations of us who couldn’t halfway boil water, but were pleased to think of her as our very own. Maybe since her death in 2004, you might be able to say, “Julia Child,” and be rewarded with a “who?” from kids fifteen and under, but many – dare I say most? – have at least heard the name.

However, when I brought her up in the UK, people would inevitably say, “Julia? Oh, you mean Delia.” Um, no, I did not. I had no idea who Delia was, much to the consternation of my Scottish friends. For the record, Delia is Delia Smith, a household name in Britain… who has published just as many cookbooks as our St. Ju, and has been on TV off and on since the 70’s, and … somehow never crossed the pond in any meaningful way. (She lacks Nigella Lawson’s flamboyant ingredients [edible gold, anyone?] as well as her eyelash batting and plunging necklines.) Her focus was no-nonsense British cooking, and her goal was to make her nation take its cuisine seriously, even as St. Julia’s goal was to help Americans understand that French cooking wasn’t all that hard.

Neither of them probably really succeeded. But, I love that St. Julia tried.

Most people don’t cook from Julia’s The Art of French Cooking much – not with kids and classes and things to do that don’t lend themselves to long prep times and fiddly whisking and such. For myself, I just don’t have the space and tools, not being in my own home. But I look forward to fussing again in my mind about whether I should use white or black pepper (an argument she and Jacque Pepin had frequently), or making her perfectly crusty French bread, savory deviled eggs, or other such simple, toothsome treats. Her books aren’t difficult, only orderly and precise, and I think we gain a lot from precision. Even so, the best thing about Julia Child is that she didn’t take herself too seriously. If you blow it, clean up and try again. That’s a good worldview, the one that worked best for Lainey in A LA CARTE.

She figured out what she wanted to do with her life in her forties, picked up her whisk, and never stopped rhapsodizing on the foods and the culture she loved. We should all be so lucky.

As she said, “Life itself is the proper binge.” Bon appétit , St. Julia.

Hey. Me again. How have you been?

I’ve been thinking lately about grad school, and about my experiences there. Not every writer has an MFA, but I do – and it was one of the better things I’ve ever done for myself. I’ve known other people to employ coaches, freelance editors, and shovel out tons of money to someone who makes them rewrite and rewrite. The MFA experience kind of provides all of that under one umbrella, plus, in my case, heartstrong, lifelong friends and delicious pumpkin spice muffins in the Tea Shop. (Good times, in that Tea Shop. Good times.)

The fair Farida (which is more about her peaceful countenance and sense of fair play, and less about her pigmentation) the other day mentioned a line from a film, “All That Jazz,” wherein the principle character (representing dancer/director Bob Fosse) tells a dancer, “I can’t make you a great dancer. I don’t even know if I can make you a good dancer. But, if you keep trying and don’t quit, I know I can make you a better dancer.”

If you don’t quit, it gets better.

Even sans MFA, even without a writing coach to whom you’ve paid hundreds of dollars. With only the application of your backside to a chair, and putting in the time… you might not be a great writer. You might not even be a good writer. But you’ll be a better writer.

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Laurie Halse Anderson, who was recently included in NPR’s Top 100 YA Books list, is plugging ahead with her “Write 15 Minutes A Day” Challenge for August. I must say that her prompts are quirky, funny, ridiculous and provocative of thought. Some good writing is getting done, so yay. Those days that get missed – well. Persistence. Sometimes we just have to re-persist.

Please do read about Laurie’s conflicted feeling about being on the very Caucasian NPR booklist. It’s hard to know how to feel when you have been honored – but so many others have not.

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I love, loove, love, love LOVE talking to The Niecelet, for she is full of Teh Funny. Yesterday we spent twenty minutes on babynames.com and chose my Starbucks Name.

Now, as Urban Dictionary will confirm, a Starbucks Name is a fake sobriquet with which you gift yourself because Simple Names R Us at Starbucks. Heaven help you if you have an unusual or creative name, not to mention one with roots in another culture or ethnicity. Having been called Tanitra, Tanitha, Tanisha, and Titna encourages me to say, “YES!” to a Starbucks name, as my special gift to the pronunciation challenged. (And trust me, a gift to myself. I mean, Tatitna? Titna!? Hello?)

Of course, Teh Niecelet has the Best Starbucks Name Evah (which I will not divulge, as it is HERS ALONE, and you might copy.) (Hah.) It’s a trick to find a good one – one must be cautious or one might end up with a stripper name, or so I am told. After much deliberation, I have decided that all Starbucks employees may now all call me Abby. Abby Thompson. I was going to go with Faye, but Teh Niecelet said though easy to pronounce, that one made me sound sixty-seven.

::sigh:: So complicated.

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Jama continues to do those awesomely celebratory things that the rest of us never think to. I think next book of mine that comes out, I’m going to hire her to be happy for me. It’s a talent, this celebrating, and she’s got it in spades. ☺ Jama’s taking a full week to commemorate our Patron Saint Julia’s 100th birthday. Please pop by and enjoy the fun. You might even win something.

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It’s the first day of school for hundreds of kids across the country, and for me, it’s hopefully the last week of being in housing limbo. Fingers crossed that I will truly be able to get my brain back very soon. Meanwhile, enjoy the sunshine while you can – nothing lasts forever, not even things you fear will never end. ♥

We ate peanuts, cheered, and teared up a bit in our little house, far away from the Red Planet. Nerd Alert, yeah. But it was as joyous to us as gold medals for those who cheer and cry for the Olympians, and to me, means so much more.

Yay, space! Here’s to boldly going. ♥

If I had just set it in my mind that I’d be visiting my family all summer long, I’d probably have been a bit calmer with the delays and disappointments of the season thus far — but as it stands, I’ve been impatient, which has just gifted me with a whole lot of crazy.

I’ve revised that frame of mind, and am resigned determined to spend the rest of my time here in good temper before we move. To that end, I sat and let my little sister play aesthetician with me for FOUR HOURS. I’m talking the entire package (Then I forgot about it, and went grocery shopping. THAT was kind of hilarious, as I’m not one for blue eyeliner and bronze shadow, but …hey. I am loving my black manicure/pedicure as well. But the red, purple and blue extensions had to go. I love my sister, but her fashion sense is also fourteen years old). I made four lovely trial run chocolate and coconut pies with my mom and aunt for their entries in a pie auction which won’t happen for months, and I made an impromptu bunch of pizzas and calzones with my friend Bean for supper one night last week. (Next time I will roll out the dough instead of just faux tossing it around as if I were Italian.)

It’s Laurie Halse Anderson’s fifth annual WFMAD this week – and I’m committing to Write Fifteen Minutes A Day all month. I have a lovely editorial call tomorrow… and will delve into revising my mystery and making it grittier and darker. I’ve been reading adult mysteries all month like mad, so here’s hoping this time will work.

If you’re not a novelist, those fifteen minutes can still loosen up a bit of real estate in your brain, help you feel more connected and less fuzzy about the tasks you have to do and allow you to reform and clarify your thoughts. Try 750 Words for a space to use those fifteen minutes.

Wring out the last droplets of juice from these long, warm days. I’m going to continue to enjoy the heck out of these last few days of summer, and find the joy. I hope you do, too.