A giant of American culture

Julia Child died in her sleep this morning, just two days before her 92nd birthday.  The day has seen a few tributes to her, but I don’t think any have really come close to acknowledging the magnitude of her contributions to life in these United States.

With the publication of Mastering the Art of French Cooking (co-authored by Louisette Bertholle and Simone Beck) in 1961, and much more with her numerous PBS programs—beginning with the WGBH-produced The French Chef in 1962—Julia did more than merely take American audiences inside the intricacies of French cuisine.  She demystified fancy cooking.  Unflappable in the face of collapsed soufflées and separated mayonnaises, she demonstrated that even the best-schooled chefs can face disasters in the kitchen ... and that she could work around those errors while maintaining her sense of humor and joy.  She showed that good food is worth the time it may take to prepare it, that top-notch eating requires top-notch ingredients.  Julia Child opened Americans to the idea that cooking can be fun! 

But even more importantly, Americans learned from Julia that food and its preparation are to be experienced, enjoyed, savored, relished.  To a nation accustomed to meat-and-potatoes, iceberg lettuce, whisky sours, and Pabst Blue Ribbon—a nation just emerging from the gray, dour, straitlaced 1950s into a new decade of international communication and cultural appreciation—Julia revealed the wonders of such then-novelties as soupe a l’oignon gratinée, coq au vin, haricots verts, tarte tatin.  Although her earliest television programs were in black-and-white, they might as well have been in full technicolor for the effect they had on the American palate.

My mother (who, as it happens, was five years to-the-day younger than Julia) took to Mastering the Art from the first, and introduced the entire family to the pleasures of great food.  Without a doubt, her favorite Julia Child recipe—a dish we enjoyed dozens of times over many years—was gigot à la moutarde.  Just thinking about that crust of caramelized Dijon mustard, garlic, thyme, olive oil, and soy sauce, slathered over a gorgeous leg of lamb and then roasted, sets my mouth to watering.  Mmmm, the thought of scraping up those crunchy bits from the roasting pan… Even if my mother always overcooked the roast to medium or medium-well instead of the medium-rare it deserves. 

The legacy of Julia Child remains an important part of our family.  My mother passed away over a decade ago, but she had long since transferred the appreciation and the skills for good cooking to all three of her children.  My brother and I are both pretty good cooks, willing and eager to improvise on a kitchen theme at any time.  But my sister took it much farther than the two boys.  A graduate of Philadelphia’s Restaurant School, she was a successful caterer before “retiring” to become a fulltime mom.  To this day, though, at charity functions, political fundraisers, and holiday meals, all and sundry wait breathlessly to find out what scrumptious repast she’s prepared for our enjoyment.

Back when she was cooking professionally, my sister had the opportunity to meet and cook with Julia Child.  It must have been quite the Mutt-and-Jeff scene—impossibly tall (Julia stood well over six feet before osteoporosis started shrinking her) and really short (five feet, half an inch), separated in age by nearly 40 years but linked by the enjoyment of preparing and consuming a delicious meal!  A framed photo of the two of them graces my sister’s mantle to this day.

I end this posting with the only appropriate salutation for remembering the life and the influence of Julia Child ... her own signature closing.  Raising a glass of good wine to you, Julia:

Bon appetit!

Comments

Best tribute I’ve read.  And your sister is a lucky woman.

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