As I sit here, beaming with afterthoughts of Julie and Julia, I am going to quote Anthony Bourdain. I wouldn’t normally describe him as enlightening, yet he is quite eloquent… at times.

“I’m asked a lot what the best thing about cooking for a living is. And it’s this: to be a part of a subculture. To be part of a historical continuum, a secret society with its own language and customs. To enjoy the instant gratification of making something good with one’s hands-using all one’s senses. It can be, at times, the purest and most unselfish way of giving pleasure (though oral sex has to be a close second)”.

Okay so forget the eloquent part, but this quote jumped out in my mind as I read “Kitchen Confidential” on the way home from seeing a screening of Julie & Julia (don’t worry, I wasn’t driving). It reiterated how important traditions are. As much as I may have discouraged cookbook clutter in a previous cooking blog post, all of this culinary genius had to come from somewhere. Sometimes the best culinary genius isn’t something we invent, but something we simply rediscover. Okay so maybe Julia Child and Irma Rombauer were a little bit over the top and old-fashioned, but they created recipes and culinary history that cannot be repeated. It is a continuum that we are lucky to be a part of, and should never be afraid to add to. Julie & Julia reiterated the importance of tradition and our future being fused, and passed on again. I will not ruin the movie (even though I don’t know if anything could) but I must share my experience.

Julie Powell is feeling overshadowed by her bland, corporate friends and overwhelmed by her job listening to people’s 9/11 horror stories. Meanwhile, in 1949, Julia Child is discovering (and mastering) the art of French cooking and charming the pants off of every, otherwise grumpy, French citizen while she’s at it. I have never been a sucker for sickly sweet romantic comedies, but this one was different, and I promise you I mean that. It was a romantic comedy in that it followed Julie and Julia as they learned how to fall in love with themselves and the small things that made them get out of bed in the morning. It was the fact that regardless of different time periods, and different geographical location, cooking and indulging themselves in what they both loved (butter and eating) could get you through some of the most frustrating times. I’m making it sound sappy, but it was subtle. It was a very true, very human story, just how it happened with no ridiculous theatrical additives or trans-fats included.

I would never risk the ten-size-larger waistline and infinite amount of stress pimples that a mission through an old-fashioned French cookbook would cause me (see The Julie/Julia Project), but I’m really glad someone else did. It was incredibly poignant and so relatable that you wanted to reach out and hug the movie screen. So whether you’re a foodie, a professional chef, or someone just looking to see a good movie, see Julie & Julia. You can thank me later, with a chocolate mousse a la Julia Child.

Contributed by Leigh Hermansen