The better butter movie

Watching "Julie and Julia" at the Beacon Theatre Saturday afternoon was almost as satisfying as a plateful of Julia Child's boeuf bourguignon. My three companions and I had been waiting with much anticipation to see the film, mainly because as baby boomers, we all remember watching Child's show, "The French Chef," live on our black-and-white TVs. In my family's case, that was a 17-inch Philco portable my father showed up with one night, perhaps straight from having won it in a poker game.
It was a Friday, and the Eptings and Mixons were coming over for dinner.Daddy set the TV up in the living room, turned it on to warm up (this took a while back then), then, when he heard a car drive up, he turned out the lights. The other families, neither of which had a TV yet (we "watched" Superman and The Lone Ranger on big radio consoles), were surprised and excited at the blue glow of the test pattern, an Indian chief in a circle. Then we watched the Friday night fights, a ritual my father and I followed religiously until a boxer died from the battering he took in a fight, and boxing went out of vogue for years.
But I digress ...
It was a transporting experience to watch Meryl Streep become Julia Child. Oh, Amy Adams was fine as Julie Powell, who had cooked all of the recipes in "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" in a single year, but it was Streep who was the star. She got Julia's voice, mannerisms and personality; it was almost as if she were channeling her.
Another star of the film is ... butter. Gobs and gobs of butter. If anyone came out of that theater not feeling hungry, more power to them.
My companions and I immediately drove to The Farm Store and purchased two 2-pound logs of unsalted, organic butter made at the Happy Cow in Lamar. We each vowed to cook a recipe from Julia's book for our next birthday gathering in October. And one of us went home, spread some butter on a piece of bread and savored every bite.
There was some sadness associated with Saturday's experience, too.
We realized we have few friends who regularly cook meals, whether gourmet or just homestyle, from scratch for themselves and friends. Frozen meals, microwaves, prepackaged meals from the store, takeout -- while valuable in their own ways, these could be killing the fine art of cooking real food. I even know people in their 20s who didn't know you can pop popcorn on top of the stove in a pot. And they've never tasted real macaroni and cheese, or macaroni pie, as my mother calls it.
I wonder how Julia Child would fare on "The Next Food Network Star" or "Chopped." Could she be the selfish barracuda it seems to take for those TV reality shows? Would she be willing to sacrifice her art for the quick cooking required on "Chopped?" I don't think so.
No matter. She is pretty much responsible for TV cooking shows as we know them today. And even if cooking good food remains a spectator sport ("Top Chef," "Chopped" or "Kitchen Nightmares"), I know at least four people who'll be cooking at home a lot more.
We'll open "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" randomly, close our eyes and drop our finger on the page. And wonderful aromas of breads, sauces, stews and desserts will warm our kitchens as we bring back the "family" dinners we ate around the dining room table while Milton Berle cavorted in our living rooms.
I bet those 20-somethings will eat it, too. I just hope they'll cook a little bit.