About Julie Powell: Julie Powell is an American author best known for her book Julie & Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen, and a subsequent movie.
Like the muscles knew from the beginning that it would end with this, this inevitable falling apart... It's sad, but a relief as well to know that two things so closely bound together can separate with so little violence, leaving smooth surfaces inst...
If I had thought the beef marrow might be a hell of a lot of work for not much difference, I needn’t have worried. The taste of the marrow is rich, meaty, intense in a nearly-too-much way. In my increasingly depraved state, I could think of nothing...
But the not-very-highbrow truth of the matter was that the reading was how I got my ya-yas out. For the sake of my bookish reputation I upgraded to Tolstoy and Steinbeck before I understood them, but my dark secret was that really, I preferred the ju...
Without the Project I was nothing but a secretary on a road to nowhere, drifting toward frosted hair and menthol addiction.
When I got home I peered down at the lobster to see how he was doing. The inner plastic bag was sucked tight around him and clouded up. It looked like something out of an eighties made-for-TV movie, with some washed-up actress taking too many pills a...
If there's a sexier sound on this planet than the person you're in love with cooing over the crepes you made for him, I don't know what it is.
I took a bite of lobster meat with rice. It was quite tasty. 'Arguing the morality of slaughter will send you into a tailspin of self-loathing every time.' 'Unless you're a vegan.' 'Uh-huh. But then you're a vegan and you don't count.
Two years ago, I was a twenty-nine year old secretary. Now I am a thirty-one year old writer. I get paid very well to sit around in my pajamas and type on my ridiculously fancy iMac, unless I'd rather take a nap. Feel free to hate me -- I certainly w...
Sometimes, if you want to be happy, you've got to run away to Bath and marry a punk rocker.
Which just goes to show, I guess, that dinner parties are like everything else - not as fragile as we think they are.
