My Compliments to the Chef in Hangzhou, China

If you can read, you can cook — Julia Child

Oh the places you go, the things you'll do, when you're following Rule No. 3: Learn to Be Amused in Karen Karbo's upcoming Julia Child Rules: Lessons on Savouring Life.  I read the chapter. I did some research. I began the journey with one step in mind: stay amused. To the casual observer, it might appear as though I really set out to prove Julia wrong in her Can Read = Can Cook Formula. What follows is a photographic account of my attempt to make a recipe from the kitchen of Julia Child. Here are some simple facts for anyone wishing to follow in my footsteps. 

Servings: 4 
Difficulty: Easy 
Could you define what you mean by 'easy'?

Cook Time:1-30 min 
Could you be more specific? This time parameter seems a bit loosey-goosey to me.

From the book, Julia's Kitchen Wisdom.

1. LET'S BEGIN. Chop a garlic clove, mince the lemon peel. My dad wanted to do both. Not because he doesn't trust me to know how to handle a knife, but since he trained as a butcher at 22, he's got mad blade skills. Serious chops. Click here to see his passport photo at 24. 

My dad's dream was to be an engineer, but he learned a skill, paid off his father's debts and became a master of his trade.  Vegetarians have eaten his home-made prosciutto: the clouds parted and angels with trumpets came out. 

2. THE UH-OH MOMENT My goose – I mean my shrimp - was cooked. I could have said something cinematic, like "You had me at cooked" or "Is it cooked? I hadn't noticed." Another possibility (albeit somewhat more far-fetched) would have been, "I'm just a girl, standing in front of a bag of shrimp, asking it to lie to her."  Thanks a lot, Ocean Mama. Who cooked my shrimp?  

3. LET'S HAVE A LITTLE CHITCHAT, SHALL WE?
Me: "What's wrong with your oven burner?" 
Dad: "Put it on high."
Me: "I think it's supposed to cook over medium-heat."
Dad: "I don't know. I don't have to tell you what to do."
Me: "I think this is going to be another recipe."
Dad: "Cooking is a fantasy."
Me: "I just want the reality to work out here."

4. THERE'S A LID FOR EVERY POT  This is not a saying about cooking, no, because that would be too obvious and pedestrian. It's about love. Is everything a metaphor? Other thoughts that occurred to me at this juncture: a pot is not a pan; pay attention; improvise. 
Hence, a giant metal salad bowl can also function as a lid. Yes, it can. Shaddup.    

5. MISHAPS THAT COULD BE AVOIDED BY MINDFULNESS 
Read the recipe: I was missing two vital ingredients, fresh dill and parsley. 
Read the label: The main ingredient turned out to be pre-cooked instead of raw. 
Read the directions: I was supposed to add the lemon juice after it was done.

6. EVERY STORY IS A LOVE STORY WITH A SONG
I'm still standing, better than I ever did. Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid. I'm still standing yeah yeah yeah. 

Me. Not the shrimp. Shrimp can't stand, silly. And they don't swim, either. I think they scamper about, propelled by their tails, frolicking with other shrimp. A marine biologist might be able to clarify the minutiae here.

If you can read, get a library card and read some more.  — me