Last night, I was slogging my way through Julie & Julia in an attempt to at least finish the book. My dog was laying on my chest, as he's wont to do when we're up late reading on the couch. As I skimmed past yet another scattered anecdote trying to get to get to the cooking part, the dog poked the book out of the way with his nose, looked me in the eye, and let out this exasperated sigh. Then he put his head back down.
I took that as a sign. Even the dog wasn't engaged in the book.
So I skipped to the end.
Yeah, she cooked all the recipes. Hope I didn't just ruin it for you.
I cracked open Michael Pollan's The Omnivore's Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals, which I had just picked up at the library on Saturday. I'm only a few pages in, but it's far more compelling reading.
