I’ve just spent the last 12 hours making a Beef Bourguignon. My family have just spent the last 30 minutes trying to eat it.
Iain, my husband, in true child-like fashion assembled the french stew, potatoes and veg into one big mixed-up-so-you-don’t-taste-it mountain. The only thing he didn’t do was smother it in tomato sauce. Lauren, (my soon-to-be-sixteen-year-old) with a different technique, dipped bread suspiciously into the beef concoction and managed to look busy, as if she was eating it, without actually eating any. Harris (7), the wee soul, didn’t even pretend. He spent his time ensuring that the gloopy gunk didn’t contaminate any of the other edible food on his plate. And me, well, like any good Goldilocks, I ate it all up. I thought it was good.
I can’t help but draw parallels with my writing life. I only spent 12 hours making a stew and I’m in a huff that they didn’t eat it. Surely the problem is with my fussy eating family and not with my cooking? What if I spend hours, days, months and years finishing my WIP only to find that no-one eats it up… that it’s too hot, too cold or too lumpy for anyone to read?
I’m discovering that I’m no Julia Child, the famous American chef, cookbook and memoir writer and TV personality, who brought French cookery to the masses, including her legendary Boeuf Bourguignon. My Bourguignon is now in the bin.
Also, sadly, I am no Julie Powell. (She cooked Julia Child’s recipes and blogged about it every day for a year!) Blogger, writer, cooker of all Julia Child’s recipes and in addition to having her blog published in a book, the first blogger to have their blog made into a major film. (Apologies for the number of times the word blog appears in that sentence) She can also make Beef Bourguignon. I can barely spell it. *checks Google again*
If you haven’t seen the film, Julie and Julia, depicting both their stories, you must watch it – especially if you are a cooker, a blogger, a writer or all three. It is in my Top Ten All Time Favourite Movies Ever… and like most of the movies in that list, it made me cry.
Anyway, there is one plus point to tonight’s dinner debacle. I am shut away in my room, in a huff and I’m writing.