Someone asked me this once — well, technically it was part of an editorial “tell‑all” for a magazine spread. You know the type: What’s your favorite color? What’s your favorite meal? What’s your favorite dessert? It always felt a little like a centerfold Q&A, didn’t it? Regardless, back to the question: What’s the one kitchen item I can’t live without?
My answer: water. I mean… duh.
But after receiving several eyeroll emails from other editors, I played along. And in doing so, my mind drifted off to that strange but wonderful land of French cooking — the one where butter reigns supreme and imagination soars.
A few years ago, someone gifted me Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Slight sidebar: I know what you’re thinking — that it was a hint about my cooking skills, or lack thereof. Wrong. I’m a good cook. Really. I just don’t tend to use recipes… which, admittedly, doesn’t always work out. But hey, I try. So in all honesty, I think the gesture was based on the fact that I love the movie Julie & Julia. At least that’s the story I’m sticking with.
Like Julie, I cooked my way through a good portion of the book — skipping the aspics and a few other sections that wouldn’t go over well at my dinner table. Or anyone’s, in my humble non‑French opinion. I mean… liver? Who eats that these days?
But then I hit the ever‑mysterious hollandaise family. Page 79. I knew it would be the death of me. Restaurants make it look so easy — you’d think the sauce came in a can the way they slather it on eggs Benedict and steamed asparagus. Because making that velvety, melt‑in‑your‑mouth sauce is not easy. And opening a can would be.
My first attempts were absolutely horrid. My saucepan looked like it was holding some weird, once‑frozen concoction baby penguins eat (I hear their mothers regurgitate directly into their young offspring’s mouths). Still, I persevered. And yes, eventually I conquered the art of emulsifying melted butter with egg yolks and lemon.
And I paid heavily for it. Because once I mastered hollandaise, I decided it needed to accompany every meal. So good for you! Only… not.
So, to answer the question, “Is there one thing in my kitchen I cannot live without?” Yes. Yes there is.
But it’s not the pale green, worn‑in, smeared and stained cookbook itself. It’s the ever‑watchful eye of a master — the feeling that I can scream at her when things don’t work out, toast her with wine when they do, and most of all, draw inspiration from her to experiment, try new things, and watch the magic — also known as cooking — happen.
Because isn’t it the process, the stumbles, the falls, the messy attempts, where we learn the most? In cooking. In life. In everything.
Happy Birthday, Julia.
Bon Appétit!
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