Julie, Julia, Yoga and entheogenesis

Hubby played Julia Child yesterday, creating a stunning Boeuf Bourguignon out of nothing but beef, bacon, pearl onions, butter, red wine and love.  And probably lots more…I didn’t watch the entire operation.  He used the “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” by Julia Child – just like in the movie.  (I still have to see that film!)

What I had to move to clear counter space

What I had to move to clear counter space

The surprise part was that two of our dinner guests knew Julia Child from her days in Santa Barbara – where they are from.  One used to cook with her!  I had to ask if he has any of her pots and pans but alas he has none – instead he had a couple books signed for siblings but he still has the memories of cooking with Julia Child – and how many people can say that?

My contribution was making pasta – which although I don’t do it often is a simple task.  The most challenging part in my kitchen is clearing enough space to mix and need the dough and then to lay out the cut pasta to dry.  I just made wide noodles to serve alongside the stew.

I loooove my little electronic scale.  300g flour?  Not a problem!

I loooove my little electronic scale. 300g flour? Not a problem!

I didn’t take a picture of the egg and water mixture overflowing the flour pile, in a mess resembling a volcano with a yellow lava flow oozing over the counter.  I was supposed to mix in the liquid gradually – doh.  I eventually got it all mixed into a smooth pasta dough.

IMG_1561

And eventually it all got rolled through the KitchenAid pasta roller and cutter, in time even to allow for relaxing wine and hors d’ouerves with our guests.  Friends from Berkeley and Oakland, who bravely came despite the fog that rolled in and put a temporary end to our summer afternoon.

Dinner discussion ranged from the state of race relations in South Africa (one guest was recently there helping with HIV prevention programs) to pets (everything from Cockatiels to tortoises to cats) to Yoga to one person’s recent experience at a workshop with the entheogenic drug DMT (a hallucinogen which, in a way, erases the boundary between one’s ego and one’s perception of everything else) to which Berkeley Bowl is better – the new one or the old one.   (The consensus being that at least now the crowd is tolerable at the old one).

All in all a very pleasant and stimulating evening – and by the end, the blowing fog had ended but left everything pleasantly cooled off, and after all the wine I fell right to sleep!

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