A Thanksgiving Treat of Creativity!

by Jill Austen on 12/02/12

From Julia Child’s Kitchen 

“…the great lesson embedded in the book is that no one is born a great cook, one learns by doing. This is my invariable advice to people: Learn how to cook – try new recipes, learn from your mistakes, be fearless, and above all have fun!”  Julia Child

Maybe it’s because of the holiday season when much celebration and creativity revolves around food, or maybe it’s because I prepared an entire Thanksgiving meal, from soup stock to apple-walnuts dessert, for the first time in years…or it could be that re-reading My Life in France, Julia Child’s memoir, inspired me to take a closer look at the cooking metaphor for creativity.

Most people will agree that cooking is inherently creative, one of the few areas outside of the traditional fine arts that no one questions as a creative field. However, there is much other baggage surrounding “fine cuisine” and “housewifery” that does disservice to the everyday role of food in our culture. In turn, everyday cooking, which used to be a necessity, has been overtaken by pre-packaged, ready-made, timesaving, chemical-laden substitutes for genuine nourishment. Never mind that everyday cooking also suffered the blows of gender identification: women were anxious to get out of the kitchen, while the famous chefs of fine cuisine were all men. Everyday cooking and everyday creativity – most people will say they have no time for either.

Although Julia Child’s heyday as a cooking celebrity was in the 1960’s and 70’s, (2012 marked the 100th year of her birth) her story is enduringly remarkable. Unlike most young women she had not learned to cook before she got married and moved to France with her husband Paul in 1948. It was there she found her passion.

What struck me most in reading My Life in France, was how perfectly Julia Child’s life and career illustrate the creative process, rather than the creative product, which, metaphorically speaking, is just the tip of the creative iceberg. The nine-tenths that cannot be seen equates to the process, the dedicated work behind the scenes, the many hours of learning, research, practice and experimentation...often without encouragement or recognition. Julia’s path from humble kitchen novice to world-class author took 13 years, and was not without bumps, detours and delays, as well as a few flat soufflés. Volume two of the now-classic Mastering the Art of French Cooking took another nine years to produce. Note: It takes the time it takes.

Let’s go back to the opening quote, “…no one is born a great cook, one learns by doing.” Substitute the word cook with another noun of your choosing, for example: artist, teacher, actor, acrobat, biologist, neurosurgeon, astronaut, mathematician, manager, magician, farmer, florist, fireman, ice-skater, astrologer, bartender, beautician.

You get the idea. Apply the concept to your own endeavors, whether in or out of the kitchen.

From Jill Austen’s kitchen: 

Fresh Cranberry Sauce

1 cup water, brought to boil in a medium pot

1 cup sugar, added and stirred until dissolved

1 bag fresh cranberries, added after being rinsed

 

Enjoy the popping of the berries

     as they bob and burst in the boiling liquid.

Stir constantly to prevent the overflowing of pink cranberry foam,

     or use a larger pot next time.

Notice how the cranberries’ white insides become deep ruby red

     during cooking. Cranberry dye is all natural.

When the sauce has reached the desired color and sauciness,

     pour it into a bowl, set aside to cool, then refrigerate completely.

Traditionally served as a side dish for festive turkey dinners,

     wickedly delicious with vanilla bean ice cream anytime!

Bon apetite!