Julia Child and Me

I need to make one thing clear. I am not a groupie by nature. I am not now nor have I ever been a member of a fan club. I will admit to writing an admiring or appreciative letter or two over the years; always to different people and never more than once. And on those occasions only because I believe that if someone is doing something you believe in you should let them know.
But, Julia Child was in a class by herself. If being accomplished wasn’t enough, she seemed like the kind of person you would like to know. For me, that impression firmed up when I saw her on a TV show sharing space with Martha Stewart., that perfectionist/upstart.
Julia, just by being her natural Julia self, stole the show. It was a holiday show, leading up to Christmas and all the special preparations that seem to be required. Both cooks created their particular version of a croquembouche, a holiday confection made up of profiteroles or small cream puffs arranged in tiers in a pyramid shape to resemble a Christmas tree. The profiteroles from each were fairly similar. It was the final assembly that differed. And it couldn’t be more different! Martha’s creation was stacked with geometric precision into a perfectly shaped inverted cone. Julia’s may well have been tossed on from across the room, so casually was it assembled. It approximated a tree shape but with nowhere near the exactness of Martha’s construction. The finish to that dessert is typically a caramel coating that serves to hold it all together as well as providing the signature crunch. Julia finished hers off with some trailing ribbons of snow-like icing, then moved on to other things. Martha continued to embellish her confection with colors and fanciful décor. Even the plate it rested on had to be a certain style and positioned just so. In my imagination I saw Julia out of camera range and already digging into hers, perhaps with a glass of champagne.

My appreciation of this woman wasn’t just based on small remote glimpses, or even on her fabulous cooking mastery And as compelling as her life story was, of a plain American girl that became a war correspondent and then went on to challenge the male-dominated world of gastronomy, that wasn’t the reason I held her is such high regard. Well not the only reason anyway. Mostly my admiration was because here was a woman who had found her passion in mid-life, worked hard at it and carried it off so fully. That her version of this involved food, rather than say, the Iditarod, just endeared her even further. We can all relate to food.


And unlike many celebrities or others in high positions Julia was available. I felt I knew her, perhaps not as a friend, maybe more as an acquaintance. We had attended the same Saturday farmers market and exchanged comments over the tomatoes, after all.
And I can even say we have dined together; or at least at the same time in the same restaurant, the eponymous William, a lovely small place in Santa Barbara.
I spoke with her then, not in a typical breathless admiring exchange one might have with other types of celebrities, but a regular conversation relating to that night’s dinner selection and how we each liked our choices. (She and my husband Steve both had the lamb -hers was a little dry- she said to us)
She was gracious. She was real. She was a brilliant example of a life well lived and enjoyed to the fullest.
Now on weekends when we sit down with a glass of wine to enjoy a nice meal one of us has prepared with care and intent, as opposed to just throwing something together for a weekday dinner as I usually do. I raise my glass in salute, and in an attempt to replicate her distinctive voice, say in a falsetto “Bon Appétit”.