Appetite for Life: The Biography of Julia Child (73 page)

Reviews were complimentary but brief. She appeared on
Good Morning America
and had the usual profiles in
People, Modern Maturity
, and other magazines. Her early cohorts in the television world thought the book was “thin” on teaching. Charlotte Snyder Turgeon says it was “just showing off what great chefs can do, not extolling home cooking.” Ruth Lockwood called her to suggest she stand up straight on-camera. (“I can’t,” Julia replied. “When I try to do it, it hurts.”) Narcisse Chamberlain says the series was excellent, particularly the episode with Alice Waters “because the two of them work together and get along beautifully.” The Waters’ tape was an exception in having Julia so directly involved, because Drummond, believing the shy Waters would need support, suggested they appear together. Julia sat beside her so the Chez Panisse owner could talk directly to her. The program with Nancy Silverton, who was “the most nervous about the taping and just froze in front of the camera” (according to Drummond, who had her do it over and over again), sold ten times as many tapes as any of the others. She made the famous bread—showing how to begin a fermented bread starter using crushed grapes—that she sold at her La Brea Bakery in Los Angeles.

Accompanied by the Pratts, Julia took a week in Venice in October to teach a course at the Cipriani. According to Natale Rusconi, the managing director of the hotel and the founder of the cooking classes there, Julia brought in the largest classes they offered. By her request, she actively demonstrated after that first year. She wanted to be an active participant, not merely an icon who served as a magnet for money or sales.

“We did the second series because people wanted more of Julia,” says Drummond. There would be no grueling road trips and people would see more of Julia on each program. Drummond would film
In Julia’s Kitchen with Master Chefs
in Julia’s Cambridge house. Because sales of the first volume were disappointing, they doubled the number of chefs to publish a more substantial book and ensure a regular slot on PBS. Taking a clue from the popularity of the Alice Waters program, in which the two women talked through the cooking steps, they moved Julia from being an “Alistair Cookie” to being an active observer. In the new book she would add a variety of tips and explanations in sidebars to accompany the chefs’ recipes.

Geoffrey removed her kitchen table and built a stage island with a stove in its place, mounting overhead lights in the ceiling. They had to pull a big truck into the street, according to neighbors, to house the generator for the power needed. The control room was in the dining room, the preparation kitchen in the basement. They hired a prep cook, flew in the chefs, who stayed at the Charles Hotel, while Nancy Barr continued as assistant writer and Kathleen Ankino served as recipe tester. It was a complete disruption of the house, but easier on Julia, who did not have to travel and could retire for a short nap when she had eight minutes.

At the private center of that crowded public world were two important men. Her nephew David McWilliams lived in her upstairs apartment while he completed his business degree at Boston University (commuting back to his wife and children in Vermont on weekends). Julia relished his company every evening she was home until his graduation in May 1995. The second was John McJennett, who with his wife (now deceased) had socialized with the Childs decades ago in Washington, DC. McJennett had survived Iwo Jima and carried himself with the bearing of a general, standing straight, taller even than Julia. “It’s nice to have a chap around,” she liked to say. They made a handsome pair, though after a trip to the Aspen Food and Wine Classic in June 1994 his health began to fail.

H
ARVARD’S “VERITAS”

It had been thirty-two years since Julia and Paul settled into their Cambridge home to become citizens of greater Boston—Beantown as the natives fondly referred to it. They lived in the bright shadow of Fair Harvard for these decades, socialized with its faculty, watched in dismay and disbelief when “crimson blood defiled the Harvard Yard” (as Paul described it) during the Vietnam War, entertained students in their kitchen, and talked to numerous campus groups in this institution whose motto was “Truth” or “Veritas.” Though many faculty did not watch much television, Galbraith claims, they were well aware of their friend’s impact on the wider world and ready to acknowledge that truth.

On June 10, 1993, Harvard honored her with an honorary doctorate in a ceremony that was the ultimate moment validating Julia’s life as scholar-cook and teacher, as pioneer of educational television, an intellectual who spoke for no company. There was no controversy concerning her degree that sunny day. The only controversy that day involved the degree conferred on Colin Powell, who had recently spoke out against President Clinton’s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy on gays in the military. Pink balloons supporting gay rights in the military dotted the blue sky when thousands filled Harvard Square and Harvard Yard. Someone handed Phila Cousins, the only family member accompanying Julia, a pink balloon; she carried it with conviction.

When the two-hour ceremony marking Harvard’s 342nd commencement began, Julia sat in a blouse and skirt next to General Powell in the front row. Her flowered long-sleeved blouse with underblouse and belt looked too informal among all the black robes. She looked out over the sea of faces, pink balloons, and signs that read: “Lift the Ban” (against homosexuals in the military). The audience even cheered the invocation that made an oblique reference to barriers to “ways of discerning and expressing love.” When Powell’s degree was presented at the end of the program, many students stood with their backs to Powell.

Twice during President Neil Rudenstine’s description of Julia, an eloquent speech mixed with allusions to food, he was stopped by applause. He ended with
“Bon appétit”
to thunderous applause. She was a wildly popular choice for the students and alumni. Julia stood by her chair and smiled broadly when they handed her the citation, honoring her stellar career as an educator. It read: “A Harvard friend and neighbor who has filled the air with common sense and uncommon scents. Long may her soufflés rise.
Bon appétit.”

Chapter 27
D
O
N
OT
G
O
G
ENTLE
(1994 – 1997)

“It’s a shame to be caught up in something that doesn’t
absolutely make you tremble with joy!”

JULIA CHILD, 1991

I
N JULIA’S KITCHEN
, they had just finished filming George Germon and Johanne Killeen, husband and wife chef/owners of Al Forno in Providence, Rhode Island, for
In Julia’s Kitchen with Master Chefs
. The crew had packed up, loaded the van, and left, for the production was taking a month’s hiatus to accommodate Julia’s schedule. “Mr. and Mrs. Al Forno” (as they were called), producer Geoffrey Drummond, and Julia went for a late dinner, joined by Julia’s friend John McJennett and her nephew David McWilliams, who was just ten days away from completing his business degree. They went to Jasper’s at the Boston waterfront, for Julia loved his pan-roasted lobster.

G
OODBYE

Stephanie Hersh received the call from the Fairlawn Nursing Home soon after 9:40 that night, Thursday, May 12, 1994. She called Bill Truslow to find out how she should tell Julia. (Earlier in the week, Truslow had come by the house and Julia told him Paul was fading.) He said to wait until she had finished her meal. When the telephone rang at the restaurant, Geoffrey was called to the phone by the maître d’, knowing what it meant.

When he returned to the table, Geoffrey put his arm behind Julia’s shoulder, and told her as gently as he could. “She immediately stood up; it was a visceral response. Her whole expression changed,” says Geoffrey. “David looked over and realized what had happened. The timing was fortuitous because there was family there.” She headed out within minutes, but encouraged Geoff to continue production because all the crew were there. David McWilliams drove her to Fairlawn to see Paul’s body before the Neptune society took him for cremation. David had been a companion at meals and quiet times for several years now, and she leaned on him during her grief. According to David, who says, “I discovered not a famous aunt but a friend while living there,” Julia was “pretty self-supporting” when Paul died. The cause of death was listed as “coronary artery disease.” “Even though it was totally expected, there is still that shock of realization,” Drummond said, privately relieved that Paul’s death had not occurred in the middle of the taping, when Julia “would have felt she had to finish,” despite her pain.

As for death itself: I fear and loathe it—as I always have [Paul wrote to Charlie on November 7, 1972]. It sits there, waiting, on my back, like the Devil in that Norse saying: “Når man har djevelen på ryggen må man baere ham frem! [Once the Devil gets fastened on one’s back, one will have to bear him there henceforth!]. I do
not
wish “to be returned to the common microbial and atomic pool” as you say so loftily, and I do
not
feel like either a microbe or an atom. I am
P. Child
, painter, photographer, lover boy, poet, judo-man, wine-guzzler, and Old Sour Ball, and it’s taken me 70 mortal years to sculpt this masterpiece, and I do not relish the inevitable
Chute de la Maison Shield
.

The wisteria he had planted around the front yard and could never get to bloom sprouted blossoms for the first time three days after Paul’s death. Julia began quietly weeping and could not stop. She suggested the office staff might want to leave early. Paul’s ashes awaited the family gathering that was to take place in Maine in August. The daily routine changed little for Julia, except for the succession of trips to Fairlawn, but her sense of loneliness grew deeper. After long tearful telephone calls to her immediate family, she did what she always did in grief, find those who could relate to her emotionally and fill her days with activity. She moved on.

Soon after Lesley Truslow Davison, daughter of Peter and Jane, moved into Julia’s upstairs apartment, Julia and Kitty Galbraith drove to Northampton for a brief trip to the past. It was the sixtieth reunion of the Class of 1934, and they dined with President Mary Maples Dunn and heard that a third of the women board members of Fortune 500 businesses were graduates of women’s colleges. But for Julia, the sight of all the gray-headed grandmothers was depressing; then and there she decided she would not go back for another reunion. She went to New York City for an investment in the future.

The new television network devoted to food and cooking (TVFN) had premiered the year before (November 1993). Reese Schoenfeld and Joseph Langdon had come to Cambridge with Sue Huffman, whom Julia knew through the International Association of Culinary Professionals, to seek her approval and involvement. Julia paved the way for her WGBH tapes, as well as those of James Beard and Dione Lucas, to be licensed for showing on the television network. In April 1994 she sat for a series of brief interviews with news anchors David Rosengarten and Donna Hanover, who asked her questions on such topics as French food, restaurant smoking, and “food Nazis.” By June of that year, in Aspen, Julia was taping segments with herself as interviewer called “Dishing with Julia.” “She is a good interviewer because of her natural curiosity,” says Huffman. By the following year she was appearing only briefly, answering “Julia’s E-mail” on
In Food Today
. She, along with alternate columnists Marcella Hazan and Jacques Pépin, also began writing columns for
Food & Wine
magazine, founded in October 1992. Her first article was on lobster tails, the second on chicken breasts. Both the Food Channel and
Food & Wine
, the best magazine for new recipes, would become her new commitments.

The return of the
Master Chef
film crew chased quiet and loneliness from the house. All around her the air was charged with frenzy as the twelve young staff members worked that summer to complete the filming delayed by Paul’s death. She walked a little unsteadily over the black quilts that covered the electrical cables running from the brightly illuminated kitchen, through the pantries, and into the control room (formerly her dining room). Giant Mylar tubes snaked along the edge of each room, carrying air conditioning. Her nonchalance was grounded in experience and in her love of intense group work.

“Her kitchen has some sort of magic,” noted Geoffrey Drummond, who was delighted to be filming all twenty-six chefs in this room so rich with memories and the patina of age. The chefs felt that magic too. They were more relaxed than the sixteen who had worked in their own kitchens for the first series. Three sous-chefs helped Charlie Trotter of Chicago sear scallops with wild mushrooms, Jean-Georges Vongerichten prepared crab spring rolls, and Jasper White his famous pan-roasted lobster and corn fritters. Alfred Portale of the Gotham Bar and Grill in New York City prepared foie gras ravioli and duck breast with Chinese peas, and Gordon Hamersley made his garlic roast chicken.

On her eighty-second birthday, she and Geoffrey finished filming the last program of
In Julia’s Kitchen with Master Chefs
. Joachim Splichal of the Patina restaurant and the Pinot bistro in Los Angeles made potato-chanterelle lasagna and lamb shanks. Splichal was West German-born, Swiss-trained, and considered by many to be the finest chef in Los Angeles. Julia’s sister Dort flew in that day and attended the wrap party for the series, hosted by Hamersley at his bistro in Boston. The next day, Julia and Dort drove to Woodstock to see their brother John, but the pain in Julia’s knee soon took her back to Boston to see her doctor, who prescribed pain pills. She would put off any further surgery.

A
SHES TO THE SEA

The family gathered that August amid the craggy grandeur of Mount Desert Island, where the salty air was heavy with their collective memories of decades of tree clearing, cabin building, lobster traps, and family feasts. This was their third memorial service. Rachel, Erica, and Jon came with their children and grandchildren, remembering their parents, Charlie and Freddie, whose ashes had been sprinkled on the paths and into the sea. Paul’s nephew Paul Sheeline and his wife, Sandra, were there, as were two other children of Meeda Child. Julia’s sister Dort and her son Sam, his wife, Susan, and son Max came, as did the extended “family”: the Kublers, the Bissells, and the Truslows.

One
must
do something ceremonial at the passing-out-of-life of a person who has lived a long time [Paul wrote to Charlie on March 21, 1954]. It needs punctuation marks of a special sort to set it off from the endless script of life. The friends need it, want it. It’s like [John] Donne’s “piece of the maine” breaking off: We are all involved. We will all go through the same door—the bell tolls…. Death and life may be meaningless: they often seem so … but we can imbue a death with meaning, for us, by
declaring
it to be meaningful…. let this funeral equal the importance of the loss of a valued [person].

On Saturday, August 27, forty-two people who loved Paul the most gathered in a circle and spoke of his life. Jon Child stood on the hearth and began by talking about how his Uncle Paul loved process, emphasizing the concrete and tangible by tying a knot the way Paul taught him and placing the rope on the floor; Rachel remembered her first visit to Paris and the confidence Paul instilled in her; Erica read from his letters and a poem. Julia, who had worried that the ceremony would go on too long, said only a few words, emphasizing that this gathering was also for Charlie and Freddie.

After all the guests had left, the family walked to the rocky cliffs to scatter Paul’s ashes to the sea. Jon had transferred the ashes into a colorful clay pot. Here, on the land where forty-six years ago Julia first met his family and she and Paul decided to marry, they took turns sprinkling a few ashes—the younger people from the rocks below where the tide was coming in, the older from the grassy cliff above. Betty Kubler took several photographs, thinking how much better Paul’s photographs would have been.

“So long, old boy,” Julia said as the wind caught the ashes and blew them toward the sea. Her nephew Sam heard her say “Goodbye, Sweetie.”

A thousand letters and calls poured in, including one from “the gentleman who always brings you three roses at your book signings at the [Harvard] Coop,” who reminded her that the Dear Lord “must have a greater job for Paul in Heaven.” But, like Paul, Julia did not believe in the afterlife. “There are no mooring hawsers in the sea of time,” Paul had concluded in his poem “Everything Is Go.” Julia’s dislike of her father’s “cold, unforgiving religion” was reinforced by Paul’s strong hatred of organized religion, instilled in him by his harsh treatment at St. Joseph’s Academy near Wellesley. His mother had come from Methodist stock but was a Theosophist who sent them to Quaker meetings to learn about the Bible. To the president of the Unitarian Universalist Association (“That’s a fun religion, isn’t it? Not like those ‘evil’ Presbyterians!”) two years before, Julia had said: “If I wanted a religion, I’d be either a Jew or a Catholic…. But I think if you have a good personal philosophy, you don’t need them.” Yet, on the “Proust Questionnaire” in
Vanity Fair’s
March 1996 issue, she gave as her life motto “Love the lord your god with all your heart, and soul, and mind—and thy neighbor as thyself.”

When it is her turn to die, she says, “I do not care at all what happens [to my body].”

T
HE FOOD CIRCUIT

At the end of September 1994, Julia flew to Europe with Pat and Herb Pratt, as they had for so many years. This time, with no worry about being suddenly called back to be with Paul, they flew first-class. And as usual, they visited Anne Willan and Mark Cherniavsky near Joigny. After a full week of rest in Fiesole, in the Tuscan hills above Florence, they drove to Venice for Julia’s classes at the Cipriani Hotel. Wherever she went she felt a profound sense of loss; though she had missed her husband’s companionship for years, no longer being able to call Fairlawn dramatized her irrevocable loss. But giving in to that melancholy was beyond Julia. She would go on with the responsibilities of her career.

The fall of 1994 was filled with appearances on
Good Morning America
, articles for
Food & Wine
magazine, demonstrations (often with Jacques Pépin) at Boston University, cooking classes at the Mondavi vineyards, and numerous appearances for the AIWF at board meetings, chapter meetings, the annual wine auction, and the annual Conference on Gastronomy. In May 1995 Julia accompanied Joan Lunden and Charles Gibson on
Good Morning America’s
“Passport to Europe: Burgundy” filming in France. The annual pattern always included the Greenbrier Food Writers’ Conference in March, the IACP conference in March or April, the Aspen Food and Wine Classic in June, the Cipriani Hotel in October, and the AIWF conference in October or November.