Well, I finished Julie & Julia by Julie Powell last night, and eh, it was OK. I wouldn’t reread it and probably wouldn’t recommend it to any diehard foodies or Julia Child fans. Lots of things, like her two-time selling of her eggs (the baby-making kind), her rabid hatred of anyone Republican, and the pseudo-conversations between Child and her spouse in the 1940s, were unnecessary and if anything, detracted from the book. I expected there to be more discussion about the actual recipes and experiences with them, but really, they almost formed the backdrop to the larger story of a 20-something married woman and her friends in NYC. The book was formed out of a blog that Powell had kept during the experience, and in a way, it still feels like you’re reading that type of medium, rather than a book. The best part about this book was the cover, which is a lovely shade of green — I’m now thinking of painting my kitchen in that color.