Julie, Julia and Duck

Like I said at the beginning of this series of rants, at least I think I mentioned it, we went to see Julie and Julia last night. I have read all three relevant books: Julie and Julia (Julie Powell); My Life in France (Julia Child and Alex Prud'homme); and The Tenth Muse (Judith Jones). I read part of that biography of Julia Child by somebody that is pretty much a reporter/historian's book and is pretty factual and detailed and dull as dishwater. Maybe it gets better later on, and I should read the last half.

Ever since I discovered the Dordogne, I have been on a confit/foie gras/potato/salad binge. Binge is not the right word. "Tear" is closer. Martin is getting sick of it; "not DUCK again, Mom!?!" But I found FRESH duck at Jungle Jim when Tino and I went last week, and of course bought one. And when I didn't feel like going to Paris or Lexington either yesterday or today, there arose this problem of what to fix for dinner...not a lot of options, folks. Except the duck in the fridge ready to make into confit, and the other one from Jungle Jim that somebody needs to do something with. It turned out to be the ENTIRE duck, minus feathers. I took photos. Head, webbed feet, all innards, etc.

Sooooo, I cut up the fresh duck, will make confit out of the legs, froze the breast, threw some (!) of the innards in the duck fat with the legs in the fridge ready to cook, froze the carcass, wings, and neck (which included the head). Gave the rest of the innards to the cat. Outside. I'm not squeamish, but I have to get psyched to cut up these birds, and I wasn't quite.

So we had duck confit, potatoes, and salad, once again. I think Southwest France may have invaded my sould.

The other thing that has happened is that (1) we are having an argument about the relative merits of the movie Julie and Julia and (2) P wants me to make that boned, stuffed duck in pastry.

(1) I think there was far too much of Amy Adams as Julie Powell and her melt-downs, and not enough of Meryl Streep and whatshisname Tucci in France. I don't think they even filmed ANY of it in Dehillerin. AND they didn't do ANYTHING about the gig in Marseilles. Much less that cottage they built in Provence. Having said that, I loved it. Meryl Streep sounded EXACTLY like Julia Child so much of the time, and Julia came through. It was eerie.

Perhaps it should have been a PBS series instead of just a movie. or maybe both.

Do you think they might do a sequel for nuts like me? Norah Ephron, (or is it Nora?) are you listening? I loved it, and I am certain I will buy the DVD as soon as it comes out.

P says that you could make the same argument that the Julia parts were just as repetitive as the Julie parts, and while that may be true, I'm not buying it. Amy Adams/Julie Powell are cute, and I enjoyed both the book and the movie, but hey, I'm sorry, they aren't in the same league with Julia Child and Meryl Streep.

(2) about the boned, stuffed duck en croute. I will make it, and I have promised to make it fairly soon, but I don't think he's gonna like it all that much....

Lillie