Appetite for Life: The Biography of Julia Child (60 page)

Paul Child, the poet and semanticist, now struggled for lost words, so it was particularly poignant that his book of poems, many of them addressed to his beloved Julia, was finally published.
Bubbles from the Spring
was privately printed in 1976, and
The New York Times Magazine
printed four of the poems on its endpaper on May 16. First was his birthday poem of 1961, opening “O Julia, Julia, Cook and nifty wench,” and concluding “O luscious dish! O gustatory pleasure! / You satisfy my taste-buds beyond measure.” The fourth poem was “The disgraced orifice” and referred to Julia’s mouth, “made for other lips to press, for love,” which made such weird noises when confronted with food: “squawks … twittering coos … groaning.”

Many factors contributed to the Childs’ final transition back to the United States, foremost being Paul’s disability, which slowed down her pace of work. They struggled with the decision for months before Julia had a sense of turning a corner. Hiring Elizabeth Bishop to bring order to her Cambridge office seemed to signal a new level of acceptance of Paul’s condition. Soon they were housecleaning and discarding clothes (including many of Julia’s size 12A shoes—bought simply because they were the right size): most significantly, they boxed up books and letters—all her correspondence with Simca, Mary Frances, and others—and sent them to the Schlesinger Library, where Julia hoped to add to the best collection of culinary historical books and documents. She kept the books she needed for reference. She also bought a Dictaphone (insisting Simca do the same) and hired a new secretary to alternate days with Gladys.

Adding to her discomfort was the fact that Julia was between books and television programs. Just a year earlier she told a journalist she did not want to do any more television. “It’s gotten much more expensive to do, and it involves a 12-hour day and a 7-day week, and we’ve had it.” Yet by the spring of 1977, persuaded by the promise of a slower pace and a new format, Julia had agreed to do a new series. Russ Morash would come back as her producer, Ruth Lockwood (recently widowed) would be her personal manager, they would shoot one episode a week on a permanent stage, and she would move out of what she called “the straitjacket of French cuisine.”

“May we go out like rockets, rather than delayed fuses!” she had written Simca three years before. Thus, she planned her reentry by taking Paul to Europe to enjoy La Pitchoune, plan menus for the new series, undertake a diet, and have what Paul called a little facial “touch-up.” The plastic surgery, suggested by her producer, occurred amid worries about Freddie Child’s health. Erica had called from Maine on June 10 with news that her mother had a heart attack but was rallying. Because Paul had had dental work and Julia’s face was still a little swollen by mid-July, they delayed their flight home one more week. They had just walked in the door of their Cambridge home on Saturday, July 23, when the call came from Maine: a second heart attack had proved fatal. They took the plane to Bangor that night for private weeping and six quiet days with the family. On Thursday they offered Freddie’s ashes to the rocks and waves off Lopaus Point.

After fifty years of marriage, Charlie Child was devastated. So were Paul and Julia, who also worried about what would happen to Charlie, who was losing his sight. (After Freddie’s memorial service three months later in Pennsylvania, Charlie threw away his paints and stopped writing letters.) Freddie’s death would bring Julia closer to Rachel and Erica. But she handled this death as she had the loss of her grandparents and parents (and a dozen relatives during her youth), by an emotional outpouring and then determinedly getting on with the life ahead. Julia had lost a beloved sister-in-law; all the more reason, she knew, to keep working. On October 25, after returning from Lopaus Point, she walked into her studio kitchen to begin rehearsals for
Julia Child & Company
.

Chapter 23
T
HE
C
OMPANY
S
HE
K
EEPS
(1977 – 1980)

“As soon as you’re off television, in a few months
nobody will know who you are …”

JULIA CHILD, January 1980

T
HE MECHANICAL
pea sheller was attached to a portable mixer. When Julia turned it on, the shiny machine began shooting the fresh peas out one side and the discarded pea pods out the other. Pop, pop, pop. It was hilarious, yet no more efficient than shelling the peas by hand. As Julia knew, however, it was a great visual for the television camera, and she loved gadgets. “We have to have fun on this show sometimes!” she told Mary Frances Fisher. Julia had a flair for anticipation and, as one journalist would say, gave the impression of “a child who can hardly wait.”

G
OING AMERICAN WITH
THE PERSIAN CIRCUS

Julia Child & Company
was filmed in 1977–78, and
Julia Child & More Company
in 1979–80. After five years away from a television series, Julia was “getting back in harness again,” as she described it to several friends. She made both series as much fun as she could, both behind and in front of the camera. But the giggles provoked by the mechanical pea sheller (for the show “Chafing Dish Dinner”) belied the complicated hard work behind the scenes.

Julia upped the ante on these two series, in terms of concept and of cost. According to Russ Morash, producer of both shows: “She insisted on rehearsal days in the studio (the economics of it should not be overlooked, for every minute was costly). To give her what she needed, we went to a warehouse so the set would not have to be taken down. We built a studio kitchen at 495 Western Avenue [across from where the Star Market is today].” The kitchen was blue, green, and white—the colors of her own kitchen. They also built a ready room with a preparatory kitchen. Julia and her crew could walk in any day and begin cooking, saving the two hours for setup and the two hours for dismantling. Initially the new studio and the new equipment were leased for only thirteen shows, eight filmed at the end of 1977 and five the following year, and they would film only one program a week, not the two or four episodes they were accustomed to shooting in previous series. Three of these thirteen, in shorter version, went into her monthly column for
McCall’s
.

Robert J. Lurtsema, a friend of Paul and the measured, orotund voice of classical music on public radio, wrote the theme music for the series. It was “all bassoons, which sounds like an elephant walking,” according to Julia.

Julia remade her persona from the French Chef into the Elegant Hostess. This series focused on the dining room and a full menu, unlike any series or book she had done before, but similar in one regard to
Simca’s Cuisine
(“An Alsatian Supper”). In the “Chafing Dish” menu, for example, the first course was sliced fresh artichoke bottoms and raw marinated scallops with fresh tomato fondue; the main dish was steak Diane (with those bouncing peas); and dessert was a chocolate mousse cake consisting of a pound of chocolate, six eggs, a half cup of sugar, and one cup of whipped cream. She informed Mary Frances that the cake was
gâteau Victoire au chocolat, mousseline
, but for her viewers it was a flat chocolate cake decorated with whipped cream.

In this series, the titles of dishes were in English and she would have, she informed Simca, “a lot of plain old American cooking—like corned beef hash, corn timbale, coleslaw, roast beef, Boston baked beans, and New England fish chowder.” She was “out of the French straitjacket,” but putting her French techniques to use in making creative variations on American dishes. Of course, the foundation recipes (such as the sauces) did not change, and there were some French dishes, such as chocolate truffles and
coulibiac
(sole in
choux
pastry).

The ambitious concept of presenting an entire meal for guests on a special occasion—“Buffet for 19,” “New England Potluck Supper,” “Dinner for the Boss”—was matched by money and a large crew of volunteers. Co-producer Ruth Lockwood was her “collaborator and colleague,” performing all the duties she always did for Julia personally as producer, but, she said, “without the ultimate responsibility, which is what I did not want.” Rosemary Manell came from the San Francisco area and moved in with Julia and Paul. She was, in Julia’s words, “a marvel of cookery, workery, good humor, and everyone warms to her and loves her.” Elizabeth Bishop headed a group of six to eight volunteers who “did prep,” preparing food and washing dishes. In addition, there were Julia’s elderly secretary, Gladys, a makeup artist, and two office managers, including Avis DeVoto.

Julia personally hired Rosie and Liz, who were her best buddies, both of whom had uncontrollable wit and appetites—Rosie for food and Liz for drink. Julia, who had put on weight after Paul’s operation, had taken off fifteen pounds in Provence. She hoped to stay on her diet along with Rosie, who had arrived thirty pounds lighter (with that many more to go). “[Rosie has] a terrible duel with appetite and she is, as you say, a compulsive eater, as am I,” Julia confided to Mary Frances in September. “If there is anything in sight anywhere I’ll eat it unless I most sternly and with supreme willpower and reasoning turn from it.”

The second series
(More Company)
included the same crew, with the addition of two young women: Marian Morash, the wife of Russ, and Sara Moulton, chef at a Boston catering company. (Neither woman knew the other was hired until they both showed up on the set.) Sara looked like a small teenager. After graduating second in a class of 450 from the Culinary Institute of America, she worked for several years in restaurants and wanted to leave catering. Both women, along with Rosie, were hired by Julia to help her with creative menu ideas. Marian worked three days, Sara two (the other five at a restaurant nearby). With the six or eight volunteers and everyone jealous for Julia’s attention, it was soon evident Julia had to decide the pecking order. Characteristically, she gave everyone an executive position. Elizabeth Bishop was Executive Associate, Marian Morash Executive Chef, Sara Moulton Associate Executive Chef, and Rosemary Manell Food Stylist. Patricia (Pat) Pratt was in charge of buying and arranging the flowers for the dining-room table and the set (which Russ always thought was “too flowery”).

Elizabeth played the “bad guy.” A few of them found her difficult to work with, jealous and competitive. One described her always walking around with what looked like a water glass in her hand. Yet another noted, “Julia and Liz together were like Abbott and Costello.” Paul always liked her naughty tongue, according to Judith Jones. Now she played the role that Paul had had in moving everything along and allowing Julia to be the “good guy.” Liz, the women believed, could make anything happen. Surrounded by women with a serious purpose, Julia was again the center of the pack, the Head Girl, as she had been in Pasadena and Northampton.

“It was a Persian Circus,” according to Morash. The women called themselves “Harmony Inc. Complete Food Production.” In the introduction to the second volume of the books based on the two television series, Julia called them “our team,” and later “a family of intimates.” Rosemary said the “camaraderie was like the old sewing bees, like a party.” Sara, who would marry a man in the music business, probably had the best tag: “Julia’s Posse … rappers always have their posse”:

What is both so frustrating and so great about Julia is that she treated us all like equals [said Sara Moulton, chef of
Gourmet’s
kitchen in 1994]. She did not behave like a big, important teacher, like she was, or an expert. She really valued our opinions. There were times when I wished she had, because I wanted to sit at her feet and learn everything from her. She made us feel good. It was really an exciting experience.

Behind the elaborate plans for a series in which Julia and Paul would not have to work late hours was their lawyer, Bob Johnson. Johnson believed Julia was a national treasure who should be treated as such. Polaroid agreed and underwrote the series. He had spent several days the previous June at La Pitchoune planning the circumstances that would be best for Julia (and Paul): no work in their home, no shopping, no dismantling of the set, and plenty of assistants. According to one of Julia’s colleagues in the food business, “Johnson was a very good lawyer, who negotiated good contracts for Julia.”

The week began on Friday morning at the studio when at least ten people gathered—all but the film crew—for “talk-through” from 7:30
A.M.
until they had lunch together. Final decisions were made on what dishes and procedures would be demonstrated and what food was to be purchased (Rosie went shopping). Monday was “cook-through,” in which the same crew tried out the meal, and Tuesday was “dress rehearsal”: Pat bought and arranged the flowers, Ruthie constructed the cue cards, Rosie chose the colors of plates and everything on the table, and the food crew prepared food for the next day’s shoot (they made the chocolate cake thirteen times before getting it right).

The taping with fifteen people was done on Wednesday, with Russ Morash outside in an enormous bus full of television monitors and lights. Lines and cables connected him to the floor manager, who took his directions. Electricians and cameramen all had headphones and Julia was wired down the back of her blouse (she told Simca she would continue to wear the L’Ecole des Trois Gourmandes insignia on her blouse). Although they had several versions of each of the three dishes at different stages of preparation, they took a break in filming between each section. At that time, Julia’s silent partner Rosemary brought out the dish she had cooked in the prep kitchen and the still photographer went to work. They taped four hours in the morning, sat down to lunch with wine at a long table, then worked until late.

Paul was able to be in charge of keeping the knives sharpened and taking black-and-white photos for distribution from their home. He was always “amazed,” he wrote Charlie, “that all these moving parts work so well together on each show.” James D. (Jim) Scherer, a young professional still photographer, launched his career by taking all the color photographs for WGBH and for the books based on the two series.

Julia took direction well from strong men, her assistants noticed. In turn, Morash admired her because she was “curious, professional, and scholarly about her art … these are the three keys to Julia,” he adds. “She was never casual. She does not sit around and worry, she trusts professionals. She trusted me! That was a responsibility. I wanted to do the best for her. She asked, ‘Is that enough or should we do it again?’ She always delivers.”

After filming a couple of programs, Julia realized she could not both write the book and film the series. She needed a professional writer to draft the text for the program. At Peter Davison’s suggestion, Julia hired Esther S. (Peggy) Yntema, a longtime editorial colleague of Davison’s at the Atlantic Monthly Press. Peggy Yntema attended all the remaining talk-throughs, dress rehearsals, and tapings, even helping out on the set. With her excellent memory, she went home and typed up crucial points. She wrote the frontispiece material and introductions to the dinners, then got recipes from Julia and smoothed out the inconsistencies (asking Judith Jones for model recipe forms). Soon she was completing a chapter with each show. An examination of the drafts of the two books reveals that Peggy was the writer, Julia the re-writer. Julia wrote all over the “esy” (Yntema) drafts, taking out wording, such as a literary allusion to Henry V, saying, “It’s not my style at all.” Occasionally Peggy returned some phrasing to the text and Julia left it in on the second read (“It was completely unpredictable what she wanted in or out”). Remarkably, she captured Julia’s voice well, and she had the book ready in time for the appearance of the series.

Chris Pullman did the layout, following Julia’s desire to break up the visuals with lots of white space, headings, and subtitles (“We want it to look very magaziney”). Focusing on segments (“You do not want to read every single section every time you make the dish”) reflected Julia’s organized mind as well as the growing influence of slick food magazines in the 1970s
(Gourmet
was followed by
Bon Appétit, Food & Wine, The Cook’s Magazine)
. The photographs were lavish. Peggy made a major contribution by adding the shopping lists, suggestions on what to do with leftovers, alternatives to the menu, and variations at the end of each menu, looking back through Julia’s other books so as not to be repetitive. Julia also wanted a postscript to each chapter, and they added menu alternatives and “cooking to bring” (when invited to dinner) to fill out the slim book. (In the second volume, they added a gazetteer and dropped the menu alternatives.) When the first volume was in galleys, Julia—in a further easing up on control—allowed others to proofread and took Paul to Provence for four months.