Julie Powell's "Julie & Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen" (Little, Brown, $23.95) is an entertaining, sexy tribute (of sorts) to Julia Child and "Mastering the Art of French Cooking." It's also the story of how one woman finds her salvation in a cookbook.

It begins with the young Julie's discovery of her parents hidden copy of "Joy of Sex" at about the same time she develops a fascination with the Child's classic cookbook. "If the 'Joy of Sex' was my first taste of sin, 'Mastering the Art of French Cooking' was my second," writes Powell.

Approaching 30, a despondent Powell rediscovers "MtAoFC" in her mother's kitchen, finding a strange power in its words and wisdom. Her life isn't at a place she had envisioned for herself. She's an actress who avoids auditions, stuck in a secretarial job she hates. In an age of sexual freedom, she's been married to her high-school sweetheart for six years.

Depressed and confused, she unwittingly buys the ingredients for Child's Potage Parmentier, a soup of leeks, potatoes and water. It's a simple dish, but so delicious that husband Eric encourages her to go to culinary school.

"If I wanted to learn to cook, I'd just cook my way through 'Mastering the Art of French Cooking,' " said Powell. "You could write a blog," responds Eric. A light goes on, and the Julie/Julia Project is christened. She gives herself a year to cook every recipe in the book, detailing her escalating obsession on her blog.

Along the way, she gathers fans and mild fame. "Julie & Julia" expands the boundaries of Powell's blog, and we're treated to a thoughtful, irreverent and occasionally hysterical look back on her yearlong journey.

From committing "lobster murder" to extracting marrow from a bone, Powell writes like a culinary Chris Rock — profane, honest and very funny.

Her attempts at flipping omelets, which Julia pulls off with ease, are awkward and amateurish. "... First it stuck, and then when I flipped harder, the eggs sloshed all over the stovetop," she writes. "Another flip sent a large portion of the semi-congealed thing to the floor. I gave up, flipped its raggedy ass onto a plate, and called it mine."

Powell doesn't shy away from exposing the whole of herself, warts and all. She's self-centered, bitingly sarcastic and, by her own admission, has a "sailor's mouth." She's also smart, loyal and vulnerable.

In "Julie & Julia," you won't find the kind of pat-on-the-back, Oprah-esce revelations of a life changed. This is just one woman's attempt at making sense out of her life. But for those who've experienced a similar emptiness and longing, Powell's own struggle is one that may seem very familiar.

CeCe Sullivan: csullivan@seattletimes.com