Kiss the Cook

Oh the irony. I had butterless popcorn for dinner while watching Julie and Julia last night.

The film was an homage to love and all things culinary.

A bow to butter. An elegy to lobster. A brava to boeuf bourguignon.

Judging from the reaction of the mostly female (and she-male) crowd, most of the audience was as charmed by the food porn as they were by the performance of Meryl Streep as Julia Child.

Food = comfort and the fact is we're hungry for well made food in this country. Twenty minute suppers have replaced the slow and loving preparation of a good roux.

Back in the eighties, during my brief but stellar Martha Stewart period, I was a big proponent of the slow food movement. I made my own pasta from scratch. Ground fresh tomatoes within an inch of their life to make the most perfectly piquant tomato sauce. Pressed shortbread into molds to form perfect cookies. I was a machine.

Today I've lost all that and my life is all the more bereft for it. Truth is I'd be nothing without pre-washed salad greens. I can't remember the last time I put butter on my bread. I think chocolate mousse is an African Canadian land animal.

I need to find me some slow food. Fast.

Bon Appetit.