Butter is only the Beginning

I couldn't help myself - truly. I just had to buy myself another cookbook. You see, I've been reading this memoir, that has been turned into a movie, and its based on the cookbook I bought today. I always knew the cookbook would be worth the purchase, but I wasn't totally sold on the memoir. I bought it at the Calgary Airport because I needed a new book to read, and it looked decent. I really didn't think that the book would deliver (on any level) and much to my surprise, I can't put the freakin thing down. It's like an addiction. But I am running out of pages to read. This thought scares me! Whatever will I do once it is completed?

I started the memoir on my way to Chicago (the book I was trying to read while mr. somebody was talking to me) and it super witty, funny, and very relatable (even though I'm not from Texas and I don't currently live in New York). Formalities aside, the book is about a woman who hates her secretarial life, and decides to cook every recipe out of Julia Childs book "Mastering the Art of French Cooking - Volume One". I just purchased the 40th Anniversary addition at Chapters, not more than 15 minutes ago, and the book is rather large. And, although I do consider myself a gourmand (to a certain degree...maybe...I make my own pasta dough: does that count?) the idea of eating calves brains and other forms of sweet breads has about the same appeal as poking my eyes out with a spoon. Thus, I won't be pulling a Julie Powell.

(As an aside, I was reading about eggs done in the oven, and upon further inspection of the cooking gear and ingredients here in Oshawa, I realized that I could piece together what Julie Powell refers to as the greatest hang over food. EVER. I agree. 100%. HOT. DAMN. That in itself was enough to propel me out of my pool chair, into a car and off to Chapters.)

This said, I want to host more dinner parties. The kind where the food is full of delious butter and wine, where there will be a food coma at the end of the night and where people ask for another invitation (for them and their friends.) If the hangover eggs are just the beginning, I'm in for some amazing food. Maybe I should start going to the gym again, what, with all this butter I'm about to consume. But baby, butter is only the beginning.