I read the book Julie & Julia, and I loved it. I loved the connection between food and self. I loved that it showed the hard work that goes into marriage. I like that it showed that the hard work is worth it. I have a passionate relationship with books I love. I become fiercely protective of them. So, when Hollywood decides to meddle with one of my books I am wary.
Today I went to see the movie. I will now confess that I enjoyed the movie too. It was more really good mac n’ cheese than coq au vin. It was comfort food. It was satisfying. It combined the things I love: food, writing, commitment, and the celebration of imperfection. It served them up with a big ol’ side of hope.
I left the theater and went the grocery store. Right now, the house is filled with the smell of garlic and roast chicken. I don’t claim to be an expert on the cinema. I don’t really claim to be an expert on anything. All I know is I watched the movie and then felt an overwhelming need to cook. I give this film two thumbs up and those thumbs are covered in garlic-y, buttery goodness.