Julie & Julia

Julie Powell:
I love you, Julia.

Paul Child:
What is it you REALLY like to do?

Julia Child:
Eat!

Julia Child:
Don't be afraid!

Paul Child:
Your book is going to change the world.

Julia Child:
I'm Julia Child. Bon appetit!

Julia Child:
If no one's in the kitchen, who's to see?

Julia Child:
[on her book being published by Knopf] Is it kuh-NA-pf or NOFF?

Paul Child:
Who cares!

Julia Child:
These damn things are as hot as a stiff cock!

Julie Powell:
[sprawled on the floor, crying] There's all this stuff on the floor!

Paul Child:
[to Julia] You are the butter to my bread, you are the breath to my life. [later echoed by Julie Powell to Eric Powell]

[when Julie is eating her first egg]

Julie Powell:
It tastes like... cheese sauce. Yum.

Julie Powell:
I have to murder and dismember a crustacean

Paul Child:
[after telling Julia that she should be on television, & she laughs] I'm not kidding you; I'm not. Someone is going to publish your book. Someone is going to read your book, and realize what you've done. Because YOUR BOOK is amazing. YOUR BOOK is a work of genius. YOUR BOOK is going to change the world.

Julia Child:
You and I are vaches enrag?es.

Simone Beck:
That's exactly what we are. Mad cows.

Simone Beck:
What is marshmallow fluff?

[Julie enters a blog about butter]

Julie Powell:
I cooked artichokes with hollandaise sauce which is melted butter that's been whipped into a frenzy with egg yolks until it's died and gone to heaven, and let me say this: is there anything better than butter? Think it over: every time you taste something that's delicious beyond imagining and you say, "What is in this?", the answer is always going to be, Butter. The day there's a meteorite heading toward the earth and we have thirty days to live, I am going to spend it eating butter. Here's my final words on the subject, you can never have too much, butter.

Julie Powell:
[voiceover, blogging] 353 days to go. A horrible day at work. An old grandma who looked as if she wouldn't harm a fly called me a pencil-pushing capitalist dupe. But then I came home and cooked chicken with cream, mushrooms and port, and it was total bliss.

Julie Powell:
[voiceover, blogging] Last night, our sleep machine, the one we have by our bed to drown out the noise of freight trucks rumbling past our apartment, was speaking to me. And it was saying, lobster killer. Lobster killer, lobster killer, lobster killer.

Madame Brassart:
Is it true you plan to teach?

Julia Child:
Yes, we're going to teach Americans in Paris how to cook.

Madame Brassart:
Madame Child, I must tell you, you have no real talent for cooking.

[Madame Brassart starts to laugh]

Madame Brassart:
But the Americans will never know the difference.

Julie Powell:
Do you really think I'm a b*tch?

Sarah:
Well, yeah.

Julie Powell:
I know.

Sarah:
But who isn't?

Julie Powell:
Julia.

John McWilliams:
[about Dorothy's wedding to Ivan] I am not enthusiastic about this marriage.

Paul Child:
Well, you weren't very enthusiastic about ours, either.

Eric Powell:
Hey.

Julie Powell:
Are you back? Please be back.

Eric Powell:
[smiles] What's for dinner?

Julie Powell:
[about Julia] I have conversations with her while I'm cooking. And I feel like she is there with me in the kitchen.

Amanda Hesser:
She's like your imaginary friend.

Julie Powell:
[grins] Yes.

Julie Powell:
[listening to messages on her answering machine] Eric, I'm going to be a writer!

Eric Powell:
[correcting her] You ARE a writer.

Eric Powell:
[about Julia] Look, there's something wrong with her if she doesn't get what you're doing.

Julie Powell:
There's nothing wrong with her. Nothing. I spent a year with her. She's perfect.

Eric Powell:
The Julia Child in your head is perfect. The Julia Child that doesn't understand what you're doing is not perfect. The one in your head is the one that matters.