Appetite For Life_ The Biography Of Julia Child Part 14

Paul reasoned with her and she eventually put on the many-colored dress that Paul had chosen for her that spring in Cannes. She composed her smile as she descended the stairway and was soon charmed by the young guests, all in their twenties. Beatles music played in the background to enliven the atmosphere. The cat was shut up in the large bas.e.m.e.nt.

The meal appeared good enough, though it was evidently undercooked to look better for the cameras. They took 432 pictures; Paul counted. When Julia offered a chilled bottle of Chateau d'Yquem to go with the dessert, she and Paul were amazed to discover that Julia's glace a l'ananas aux oranges glacees glace a l'ananas aux oranges glacees was made of Crisco and powdered sugar. Fake food, a fake dinner, and fake "Julia's guests." Later she would learn other tricks, such as rubbing a turkey with bitters, olive oil, and soy sauce and cooking it briefly just enough for the oil to stay on the skin for a tight, glossy photogenic bird. was made of Crisco and powdered sugar. Fake food, a fake dinner, and fake "Julia's guests." Later she would learn other tricks, such as rubbing a turkey with bitters, olive oil, and soy sauce and cooking it briefly just enough for the oil to stay on the skin for a tight, glossy photogenic bird.

When the October issue of the Journal Journal appeared, subscribers read that the four men "guests" had written to Julia to thank her for teaching their wives how to cook. To express their grat.i.tude-and allow the magazine to ill.u.s.trate the convenience of freezing ahead-the men made "a raid on the four couples' freezers" and put together "a complete Julia Child meal [for their] date with their wives' teacher." The article was ironically ent.i.tled "The Julia Child Way to Plan Your Own Ready-Ahead Dinner." appeared, subscribers read that the four men "guests" had written to Julia to thank her for teaching their wives how to cook. To express their grat.i.tude-and allow the magazine to ill.u.s.trate the convenience of freezing ahead-the men made "a raid on the four couples' freezers" and put together "a complete Julia Child meal [for their] date with their wives' teacher." The article was ironically ent.i.tled "The Julia Child Way to Plan Your Own Ready-Ahead Dinner."

America's "scholar cook" met Madison Avenue full in the face that summer. These slick magazine spreads-and there would be others this year and next-and the reruns of the French Chef French Chef television program would keep the sales of television program would keep the sales of Mastering the Art of French Cooking Mastering the Art of French Cooking alive while Julia and her partner spent three years preparing their second volume. The care Julia took with the recipes, cross-testing every variable, baking thousands of brioches, croissants, and loaves of bread, would always set their books apart from other cookbooks. Hadn't Mary Frances (M. F. K. Fisher) just written her that their first volume was now a "cla.s.sic"? alive while Julia and her partner spent three years preparing their second volume. The care Julia took with the recipes, cross-testing every variable, baking thousands of brioches, croissants, and loaves of bread, would always set their books apart from other cookbooks. Hadn't Mary Frances (M. F. K. Fisher) just written her that their first volume was now a "cla.s.sic"?

Though she was swept into the commercial food world of New York, her head was not turned by the national attention she received following the Time Time cover six months before. She was fifty-four when fame hit, a California girl who was natural and forthright, the daughter of a practical New England mother. Food writer Paul Levy remarked pungently, and with admiration, that she could call a fart a fart when talking about ca.s.soulet. cover six months before. She was fifty-four when fame hit, a California girl who was natural and forthright, the daughter of a practical New England mother. Food writer Paul Levy remarked pungently, and with admiration, that she could call a fart a fart when talking about ca.s.soulet.

By and large, she followed her own steady dictates, aware that she was different. When in September she was asked to attend the Harper's Bazaar Harper's Bazaar luncheon ("100 Women of Accomplishment"), her letter to Simca revealed her sense of remaining outside the glamorous world of New York City: "I hesitated about going, but then thought it would be great fun to look at all the fancy ladies, and I do know a handful from among them. This sort of thing is rather rich for our blood and I shall never have the right costume to wear, however there will be other simple souls like myself who are not dressed and coiffed by the great salons!" luncheon ("100 Women of Accomplishment"), her letter to Simca revealed her sense of remaining outside the glamorous world of New York City: "I hesitated about going, but then thought it would be great fun to look at all the fancy ladies, and I do know a handful from among them. This sort of thing is rather rich for our blood and I shall never have the right costume to wear, however there will be other simple souls like myself who are not dressed and coiffed by the great salons!"

THE IRVING STREET BAKERY.

AND MASTERING II MASTERING II.

When they prepared their detailed outline in early February 1966, Julia and Simca believed the second volume would be completed in two years. It would take twice that long. Julia had to conclude her final work for the Time-Life people and The French Chef Cookbook The French Chef Cookbook, and she had a difficult time saying no to the many demands. But the major complication came when Judith Jones, their Knopf editor, asked them to include a recipe for "French" bread and prevailed with the argument that because Americans cannot buy this bread in their own country, they might want to try making it. Julia agreed, as long as they could come up with a recipe and technique to produce a bread that was both different from what Americans made in their own homes and close to the color, taste, and texture of the French. The book now changed from one that resembled the first volume to a book that would include a large chapter, following the first one on soups, on baking.

They originally agreed the volume would be a "continuation" of the first volume. In this way, the publishers were a.s.sured the second volume did not diminish the value or relevance of the first. Eventually they would integrate recipes for both volumes in the complete index, distinguished by red and black ink. Their audience would be, in Julia's words "as before, those who like to cook and/or want to learn, as well as those who are experienced cooks, including professionals. So we have to keep dumb debutantes in mind, as well as those who know a lot, and who are thoroughly familiar with the cla.s.sic French cookbooks." She wrote these words to Simca two days after giving a large family luncheon for nephew Jonathan Child's graduation from Harvard.

In 1967 alone, Julia and Paul used hundreds of pounds of white flour experimenting to find the best techniques for making brioche, croissants, pain de mie pain de mie (sandwich bread, which did not interest Julia), a variety of pastry doughs, and-the most significant and challenging-French bread in all its various shapes (baguette, (sandwich bread, which did not interest Julia), a variety of pastry doughs, and-the most significant and challenging-French bread in all its various shapes (baguette, batard, champignon, boulot batard, champignon, boulot, etc.). The ingredients never changed: yeast, water, flour, and salt. (American recipes, including Fannie Farmer's, always used sugar.) Why the difficulty? Paul soon learned, when he decided to experiment alongside Julia, that there were "ten thousand variables" involved in the yeast, the rising, the shaping, the moisture, the timing, and the oven. Consequently, they had to cook batches of bread, making only one variation each time. Though a few critics would fault her for using American grocery store flour, that was precisely the point: Julia maintained that Americans must be able to use the ingredients they can buy.

She and Paul experimented with fresh and dried yeast, various flour mixtures (Wondra, Gold Medal A&P, unbleached), rising times, and how to get moisture into the oven to simulate a French baker's oven and to give the bread the color and crispness of French bread. Soon Paul-"M. Paul Beck, Boulanger," she called her new partner-was baking his own batches with Julia in their Cambridge kitchen in the summer and fall of 1967. He hung the molded baguette dough, after its second rising, in a large dish towel hooked in a closed drawer; Julia would lay hers in the folds of a flowered canvas. Paul got steam on the top of the baking bread by squirting water from a rubber nasal decongestant sprayer every ten minutes; Julia used a washed and wet whisk broom. Finally, they settled on getting steam into the oven by dropping a red-hot stone or brick into a pan of water in the hot oven.

It was the dueling bread makers who, each time they thought they had a perfect process, found out that it was not as good the second time they followed the same procedure. Mary Frances wrote back one day that she had a dream that Paul, the size of a cat, was slid on a long flat paddle into a hot oven, holding his nasal sprayer. They all had a good laugh. By July their bread was better than anything they could buy in Cambridge, but it was not yet "French" bread. They came to two conclusions: the bread must rise slowly and it must cook with frequent steam infusion.

Their neighbors on both sides, the deSola Pools and the Browns, remember that summer when many loaves of warm bread were pa.s.sed over the fence to them. Even old friends ("They fit us like a pair of old shoes," Paul would say) whom the Childs would visit-the Pratts in their summer home and the Mowrers in New Hamps.h.i.+re-remember the bread baking at their houses. One host discovered a rising loaf hanging from one of the guest room's drawers. The Child nieces recall the summer bread baking at Lopaus Point (where Julia also visited a factory to learn about professional cracking of crabs). These family and friends, incidentally, were not intimidated by inviting Julia to a meal; she rea.s.sured them, "Nonsense, it is only I who am expected to prepare a perfect meal."

In 1968, when they spent months in France making croissants every day-feeding every visitor, guest, and family member croissants until they settled every nuance of preparation and procedure-young Jean-Francois Thibault, Simca's nephew, thought, "They must be terrible bakers because they have to keep making these croissants."

WORKING WITH SIMCA.

Writing Volume II was similar in many ways to writing the first. Julia was in charge of writing all the copy (both the blah-blah and the recipe directions), which she would send to Simca, who read and tested the recipes. Julia was the authority on how American produce and ingredients worked with French techniques and recipes. "I hope you will accept my findings," she wrote Simca, "I am the one here in the USA who gets blamed if our recipes don't work." In turn, after Simca tested each recipe, she reported her findings and had the final say on all the French names and terminology.

Simca was the major supplier of recipes. In fact she could not stop sending recipes, even after they constructed their final outline. "Simca is a great improvisationalist," wrote her student and a.s.sistant Michael James. Peter k.u.mp claimed her recipes, like her stories, "changed slightly every time." Julia told Mary Frances in both admiration and complaint, "She is a fountain of ideas." She wrote Avis, who insisted upon being a part of the second volume: "I cannot trust Simca's recipes at all, except as great idea fountains, so every single one will have to go through the chocolate-cake type of testing. I'm just not going to have anything in this book that doesn't work well-we have 3 in Vol. I which are far too tricky, and which gall me every time I think of them. Vol. II has to be better better than Vol. I, and I ain't going to be rushed over it." Finally Julia placated Simca with a line about saving a particular recipe for Volume III (though she never seriously considered a third). Back and forth, Julia in English, Simca in French, they would comment in detail on each experiment and on the other's comments on every experiment. Today the thousands of onionskin pages are brown with food stains and age. As before, Julia reminded Simca they had to keep their recipes and discoveries secret from both colleagues and students. than Vol. I, and I ain't going to be rushed over it." Finally Julia placated Simca with a line about saving a particular recipe for Volume III (though she never seriously considered a third). Back and forth, Julia in English, Simca in French, they would comment in detail on each experiment and on the other's comments on every experiment. Today the thousands of onionskin pages are brown with food stains and age. As before, Julia reminded Simca they had to keep their recipes and discoveries secret from both colleagues and students.

The initial differences in writing this new book were several and went far beyond the fact that they no longer sent a carbon of their work to Louisette. Julia, who always did all the typing, had Gladys, her secretary, who could type up the final double-s.p.a.ced recipes in the form already worked out in the first volume. They also had a book to work against; even basic techniques were already explained in the first volume. Now, however, there was the bread recipe and more desserts, which were Simca's specialty.

Julia was frustrated earlier in Plasca.s.sier when she was not satisfied with the chocolate cake recipe Simca chose. Julia had brought the chocolate from the States, but Simca did not test it fully, she believed. In Cambridge, Julia invited a chemist from Nestle to come for lunch and talk about the chemical composition, cocoa b.u.t.ter content, and melting methods of their chocolate. Americans made the mistake of melting chocolate in a pan with boiling (not simmering) water under it. She worked and reworked the directions herself. She also hated the pound cake (le quatre quarts) (le quatre quarts), "a heavy horrid cake and not my idea of good French cooking."

The temperamental and philosophical differences between Julia and Simca both aided their joint work and created frequent friction. Julia's approach was evident in a letter she wrote to Simca: "I shall also take notes on every method of pate-en-croute pate-en-croute making that I run into-I am sure this drives you crazy, but it is the only way I can work-I want to know everything, and why, and what's no good and why, so then when our master recipe is done there are no unsolved questions." Simca, Paul told Charlie, "seldom subjects anything to operational proof [and] lives in a totally verbal world." Earlier he wrote that she "roars through life like a hurricane, smas.h.i.+ng her way toward her goals." Of course, he added, that is the quality that got her house renovated, her trees planted, her cooking school up and running. In a contrasting view, Jane Owen Molard, who worked with Simca in the 1980s, says, "Julia and Simca were much alike. They both had busy exteriors but calm centers." making that I run into-I am sure this drives you crazy, but it is the only way I can work-I want to know everything, and why, and what's no good and why, so then when our master recipe is done there are no unsolved questions." Simca, Paul told Charlie, "seldom subjects anything to operational proof [and] lives in a totally verbal world." Earlier he wrote that she "roars through life like a hurricane, smas.h.i.+ng her way toward her goals." Of course, he added, that is the quality that got her house renovated, her trees planted, her cooking school up and running. In a contrasting view, Jane Owen Molard, who worked with Simca in the 1980s, says, "Julia and Simca were much alike. They both had busy exteriors but calm centers."

In the lengthy report Avis DeVoto wrote to William Koshland the previous Christmas season in Provence, she made the following observations about the culinary "sisters": "Simca is a creative genius ... [but] also inaccurate, illogical, hard to pin down, and stubborn as a mule. Julia is also very creative and is becoming more so. But the two women think differently. Julia is deeply logical, orderly, accurate, painstaking, patient, determined to get all this knowledge clearly on paper. And she can be just as stubborn as Simca is, and will plug away trying to convince Simca until suddenly Simca changes her position, and from then on she will talk as if it were her own idea all along."

Paul did not like Simca's bossy, know-it-all att.i.tude; it "drives me up the wall," he confided to Charlie. But Julia would not countenance anyone criticizing Simca. Angry one day, Paul wrote the following indictment: "Simca pays no attention to anything Julia tells her about all the researches she's done, the findings of the U.S. Dept. of Agriculture, or the careful scientific comparison she's made between the various commercial starches based on corn, rice, potatoes, etc. She drives me nuts." At Julia's insistence, he added at the bottom of the letter: "An impurely personal opinion, resented by Julia, who asked me to change it. I can't; but she has tremendous tremendous value, is a value, is a real half real half of the combination which I may not have made clear." of the combination which I may not have made clear."

If Paul and Simca sometimes got along just for the sake of Julia, probably the same could be said of Paul and Jean. The hearty French chemist would immediately put on his blue work coveralls and boots when he came to Bramafam and putter around the property, in sharp contrast to the well-dressed Paul, who was preoccupied by his painting and photography. The Fischbachers and Thibaults thought Paul could be moody and distant. He in turn thought they sometimes treated foreigners disdainfully.

Julia and Simca were loyal to each other out of respect and love. Like sisters, they argued and made up. Julia believed Simca distrusted the scientific approach, in part because she lacked formal higher education and was ruled by her emotions and instinct. When Julia was testing for the perfect crust for their pate en croute pate en croute, she informed Avis she did not think Simca was the least interested in her research. "I don't think she believes in it." Paul said she was "a mountain of unscientific instinctiveness." He had even harsher words in other letters to Charlie. In several of Julia's letters to Simca it is clear that Julia is urging her to experiment, to visit local bakers. Many years later, Julia would be more frank about the dogmatism of Simca, imitating Simca's loud "non, non, non" at the top of her voice. at the top of her voice.

When Simca reported that in a brief visit to the master bread maker Calvel he let his dough rise only once, Julia wrote back that in his book he specifies twice. All her experiments proved that the dough must rise twice: "Kneading by the usual system forces the gluten molecules to stick together so that the starch and yeast molecules will be dispersed intimately among them, and then the yeast forms little pockets of gas which push up the gluten network; a pus.h.i.+ng down and second rise disperses the yeast into new starch pockets, and these in turn make the gluten network more fine." And so on. Simca was probably asleep by that point.

THE LOUISETTE PURCHASE.

Originally Julia and Simca a.s.sumed that Louisette's name would be on Volume II. Though she was not involved at any point in the book, she was still a part of L'Ecole des Trois Gourmandes, though she did little teaching at the Paris school with Simca anymore. She and her new husband, Henri, were now settling permanently in Vouzeron, in the center of France. Beyond initiating the first book, she did next to nothing; including her name on the second would have been giving credit and money where it was not due. Moreover, she no longer got along with Simca.

Julia and Paul decided earlier they needed to create a will protecting their growing a.s.sets from television and publis.h.i.+ng and to set up a system by which Julia herself would not have to send the royalty checks to her partners. Julia also realized, after talking with Bill Koshland at Knopf and the lawyers of WGBH, that she had to determine the owners.h.i.+p of recipes, which were mixed up between television, newspapers, and books. She was facing the complications of two new contracts. Typically, Julia and Paul wanted "absolute order" in their financial affairs. They hired Brooks Beck the same week Paul boasted he made his twenty-first batch of bread.

Beck, of the Hill & Barlow law firm in Boston, was no Wall Street lawyer type, but a handsome man of great culture and humor, a real character with a bit of an acid tongue. Not incidentally, he was a member of their Cambridge circle of respected a.s.sociates. They had met, after all, at a DeVoto party, and his wife, Wendy, was an editor at the Atlantic Monthly Press. Julia was particularly impressed that Beck represented two of their neighbors, Arthur Schlesinger, Jr., and John Kenneth Galbraith.

Beck's first response was that he thought the two women should buy out Louisette Bertholle (an offer of even $25,000 would be a lot of money for someone who was doing nothing), and that Julia should no longer act as comptroller. He warned about the tax consequences in both countries, but untangling the issues would take months. Their next royalty payment was held up until this issue could be resolved, and in the interim Simca and Louisette eventually got their own lawyers. Julia warned her partners about the tax implications and was relieved when she learned Simca was declaring something to the French authorities.

When Julia casually mentioned to Louisette the idea of buying out her share of the partners.h.i.+p (the book was copyrighted, but they were never able to copyright the cooking school), Louisette sounded interested. But no official offer was made because they believed she would demand too much money (she mentioned to Julia she was thinking of about $45,000). She had already earned $33,000 in royalties for Mastering I Mastering I, and any buyout of her 18 percent would come out of the advance for the second volume. Thus, they held up signing any contract with Knopf for their second volume until the question of Louisette could be resolved. Brooks Beck suggested they hold up making any offer to Louisette, who by December informed Simca she would sell all rights for $30,000.

Neither Jean Fischbacher nor Paul Child wanted to damage the trust between Simca and Julia, so they let their lawyers handle everything. Julia and Paul were anxious to settle their estate, which was to be left to their nieces and nephews. The only matter remaining to be cleared up-and this involved Louisette-was the issue of copyright to the book and partners.h.i.+p. By February 1968 the papers were signed.

In the matter of royalties for Julia's book of television recipes, The French Chef Cookbook The French Chef Cookbook, she initially spoke about sharing the royalties, but her lawyer must have thought otherwise. Simca agreed (though her lawyer initially held out) that Julia should have the copyright and all royalties on that book because, though some recipes were taken (and changed) from their first book, Julia's television and promotion made an appreciable difference in the sales of Mastering I Mastering I, which doubled, then tripled, after the television program began, and leapt after the Time Time cover. On the television work she perhaps broke even; thus her only compensation for seven-day workweeks came from book sales. (The first and only time Julia mentioned this issue to Simca was in a letter dated October 18, 1967.) There was no question that the difference between the 1,000 books they sold the first month and the 3,000 books they were selling every month now, was Julia Child. cover. On the television work she perhaps broke even; thus her only compensation for seven-day workweeks came from book sales. (The first and only time Julia mentioned this issue to Simca was in a letter dated October 18, 1967.) There was no question that the difference between the 1,000 books they sold the first month and the 3,000 books they were selling every month now, was Julia Child.

Finally, by the spring of 1968 the contract between the lawyers for Simca and Julia was settled and signed. Two complications were involved. Julia wanted her payments from Knopf to be set at a low enough figure to make her tax bracket more reasonable, and Julia and Simca had to work out the complications of their disproportionate expenditures of time and money (Julia did all the typing, proofreading, arrangements for drawings, and appearances). Finally, Julia bought sole rights to the first volume from Simca, and they shared the second volume, with Julia as the agent who kept track of expenses. By March 1969, Mastering Mastering had sold 600,000 copies, with Simca and Julia already making back half of what Julia called their "Louisette Purchase." had sold 600,000 copies, with Simca and Julia already making back half of what Julia called their "Louisette Purchase."

The pressure of time involved in Julia's numerous appearances led to Paul's decision to take to the air. He had always broken into cold sweats and relived memories of treacherous flying in China when faced with the idea of plane flight, but he determinedly conquered his vertigo by applying the practical sense and the logic he always lived by. No more transatlantic voyages on the Queen Mary Queen Mary.

DINING AND DIPLOMACY:.

FILMING AT THE WHITE HOUSE.

Just before flying down to film a doc.u.mentary on the White House kitchens for WGBH, Julia opened her door to the French consul general, who came to pin the green ribbon and bronze star of France's Medaille de Merite Agricole on her dress and kiss her on both cheeks. "We don't know whether to laugh, or be proud, at this backhanded gesture from the government for which she has done so much," Paul wrote to Charlie. Nevertheless, half a dozen friends celebrated with champagne, Time Time magazine reported. The magazine reported. The Smith Alumnae Quarterly Smith Alumnae Quarterly proudly announced that the green ribbon now rested beside the proudly announced that the green ribbon now rested beside the cordon bleu cordon bleu. What Julia did not know was that a Smith College committee turned down an effort by several alumnae to award her an honorary degree that year.

"Dinner and Diplomacy" (the initial t.i.tle) was conceived when a plan by WGBH for a doc.u.mentary on the French Chef in Paris (featuring Les Halles, which were closing down) fell through due to a lack of funding. In August 1967 they proposed making a color doc.u.mentary of how the White House kitchens operate, what equipment they use, the staff, marketing, even menu planning. Ruth Lockwood, with contacts through her journalist son, did all the preliminary work with Liz Carpenter and her a.s.sistant, Mrs. Poulain. There would be several trips to Was.h.i.+ngton as the arrangements were made and the date moved several times. Julia and Paul flew down in August, September, and October; first it was going to be a dinner for the King and Queen of Nepal, then one for the j.a.panese Prime Minister.

President and Mrs. Lyndon B. Johnson honored her with an invitation to be a part of the state dinner on November 14, 1967, for the Prime Minister of j.a.pan. Originally, the program for educational television was to be a study of the kitchen and behind-the-scenes of a state dinner, but now Julia and Paul were honored guests and the film crew would be allowed in the dining room (with releases from everyone).

Julia thought the meal exquisite: vol-au-vent of seafood, noisettes of lamb, artichoke choron, white asparagus polonais, a garden salad, cheeses, and strawberry Yamaguchi (a tart). Three wines were poured: Wente Pinot Chardonnay, Beaulieu Cabernet Sauvignon, and Almaden Blanc de Blanc (with no vintages given on the menu, Paul noted with amazement).

Julia and Paul were sitting next to Vice President and Mrs. Hubert Humphrey, and Julia found him delightful ("I've always liked him, but didn't realize how thoroughly warm and attractive he is," she informed Avis). Paul was pleased to get reacquainted with Professor S. I. Hayakawa, whom he had met in Germany and with whom he had spent a week studying just two years before. Because the j.a.panese guest (His Excellency Eisaku Sato) was crazy about baseball, the commissioner of baseball was there, as were a pitcher from the St. Louis Cardinals and George Steinbrenner. Maxwell Taylor, John D. Rockefeller IV, cabinet ministers, and other dignitaries rounded out the 190-guest list.

Julia had a wonderful time meeting the President and the other distinguished guests, but she was just as excited to meet Swiss chef Haller and his pastry chef, Ferdinand Louvat, a Frenchman ("Loved the two chefs, and being able to talk shop in French with them was a great help to us," Julia wrote Simca). And she talked at length to Mary Kaltman, the food coordinator and housekeeping director. These professionals were people she respected enormously. Originally the program was going to be called "Behind the Scenes at the White House Banquet."

She was also excited to work with her old crew from The French Chef The French Chef. Russ Morash was the director, Peter the Dutchman operated the one handheld camera, and Willie was the sound engineer. The script, written by a professional but lacking in dignity, they believed, was rewritten around the Child kitchen table by Ruth, Paul, and Julia. This program would not be live, but edited by a professional (with a.s.sistance from Ruth and Russ) and shown on American educational television, now called the Public Broadcasting Company, the following April (Julia would have to come back from La Pitchoune to do the voice-overs).

"The White House Red Carpet," its final t.i.tle, began with the doors of the White House opening and visitors streaming in. The camera panned down the line of guests to pick up Julia Child, the narrator, who informed the audience that 40,000 people a week enter the White House. Later, in the video's flashbacks, the Prime Minister of j.a.pan deplaned and Julia interviewed James Symington, the protocol officer, and chef Henri Haller in the kitchens of the White House.

Ruth Lockwood told Bill Koshland that it "was a nerve-wracking experience, but as usual Julia was relaxed and lovely." Indeed, her only worry was what dress and shoes to wear. She was used to being on television with her sneakers on. Ruth helped her choose the shoes and dress-Paul called it rainbow-colored. She wore the wig. Lady Bird Johnson wore a gold draped chiffon gown by Adele Simpson, and Tony Bennett entertained with songs after the banquet.

This was Julia's first White House experience ("splendid," she said, "neither of us shall ever forget it"). During this first visit she thought briefly about what it would have been like with the Kennedys, but concluded, "The food could not have been any better." This White House dinner would remain her most memorable, not because she was "a Roosevelt Democrat at home, an Acheson Democrat abroad" (as one journalist observed), but because of the food. She admired Henri Haller and thought that the service and organization of the evening was elegant. The servers were professional staff, black men who had worked in the White House for years and served with quiet flair, "like clockwork." Thirty years later, after visiting during two other administrations, she would tell a Boston University audience that "the food was great" at the Johnson dinner. Otherwise the "culinary reputation [of the White House] is dreary indeed." Gerald Ford's people were uneasy about the pomp and show-fearful of spending the taxpayers' money-so the state dinner Julia attended was cheap, the food undistinguished, the service sloppy. The Reagan White House served chipped beef, cream cheese, green mayonnaise, veal madeleine in dough, and a platter of purple sorbet with canned peaches.

Julia was also quick to point out that WGBH's tribute was to the White House, not to the Johnson administration. "We were there ... at the height of anti-Johnsonism and the att.i.tudes in Cambridge Ma.s.s were quite frightening-making me realize that academics are too seldom intellectuals!" she wrote to Ellie and Basil Summers the following spring, when the video was played. She and Paul could not drive through Harvard Square without seeing the Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) carrying pickets reading: "Napalm-Johnson's Baby Powder," for the atmosphere at the university was "chaotic" and "somber." She and Paul were also opposed to the war in Vietnam, but she thought the protest "has really pulled the country to pieces." She mentioned "pride in the White House" on the video, and, fortunately, the political landscape would change before the spring to make their film more acceptable.

The morning after the state dinner, they taped more interviews for their doc.u.mentary before flying to New York to catch the night plane to Nice, via Paris. Soon they were lounging on the terrace beside the purple bougainvillea and smelling the jasmine. Watching Jeanne pick olives to take to the local press, they thought only of the five months in France ahead of them and the completion of the book.

Page proofs for Michael Field and M. F. K. Fisher's Time-Life book had been delivered to the plane as they left, and proofs of her own The French Chef Cookbook The French Chef Cookbook arrived in December. She corrected "plenty" of errors in both ma.n.u.scripts. "America is beginning to fade," she wrote Avis after just a week in La Pitchoune. arrived in December. She corrected "plenty" of errors in both ma.n.u.scripts. "America is beginning to fade," she wrote Avis after just a week in La Pitchoune.

Julia and Simca flew up to Paris the first week of December for a morning session with Professor Calvel, head of the Ecole Professionelle de la Boulangerie, a world expert on bread making. After talking and observing, Julia concluded their bread dough was too firm (his was soft and sticky and rose slowly to twice its size). Amid the market din and smell of Les Halles, Julia bought three fresh foie gras and truffles for the coming holiday feasts. "G.o.d, it was great! Ten thousand smells, sounds, and faces! I kept thinking what a movie we could have made if that plan of ours hadn't fallen through," she wrote Avis.

They were happy and clearly feeling financially well-off, for they had their trunks air-expressed to their door and bought a "miniature television machine" (to see De Gaulle's press conference) and a large Kelvinator refrigerator with separate freezer s.p.a.ce. They knew that in a month they would have to return briefly for Julia to read the voice-overs for the doc.u.mentary, but for now they were away from all the daily business of life. For the last six months, amid the bread baking and recipes testing, the occasional interview, and preparations for the White House filming, they were overwhelmed with guests and dear friends from every part of their rich past.

"This is really the first time either of us has been able to work without interruptions in months," Julia wrote Avis. She finished twenty-seven pages of blah-blah introducing French bread and sent copies of it to Simca, Avis, and her editor (Avis was horrified at its length and said it should not go into the book) before moving on to pork. She and Paul visited the Alvaro pig farm to watch a crew of four slaughter a 300-pound pig in a ceremony as old as the Middle Ages. She was calm, unflinching, and curious to learn everything she could about it, for Paul was going to photograph her preparation of their Christmas suckling pig.

Louisette and Henri visited one weekend, and an occasional American or English reporter would find her, including one from Newsweek Newsweek. But most of their days were uninterrupted. Simca and Jean were in Paris. Only Sybille and Eda were invited for Paul's birthday feast, which included a flaming mountain of ice-cream cake. It was Le Kilimanjaro, the chocolate and almond ice cream dessert, which would appear in the second volume of Mastering Mastering (page 420). She added a touch that is not in the book: on the top of the dessert "mountain," she placed an empty half eggsh.e.l.l, filled it with liquor, and lighted it before taking the flaming volcano to the table. (page 420). She added a touch that is not in the book: on the top of the dessert "mountain," she placed an empty half eggsh.e.l.l, filled it with liquor, and lighted it before taking the flaming volcano to the table.

Here in La Pitchoune they were at peace. Paul would listen to the banging of his "Mad Woman of La Pitchoune" in the kitchen and write to his brother: "Well-I'm ... smelling all these breads, chickens, pates, dorades, cooking, and hearing my tender little wifelet cras.h.i.+ng around in the kitchen, scolding the p.u.s.s.y for meowing, whacking something metallic with something else metallic, like a Peking street vendor. A very jolly house." Just two weeks before, he told his brother, "How fortunate we are at this moment in our lives! Each doing what he most wants, in a marvelously adapted place, close to each other, superbly fed and housed, with excellent health, and few interruptions."

A PERSONAL TRAGEDY PERSONAL TRAGEDY.

"Left breast off" is all she wrote in her datebook for February 28, 1968. They had flown back to Boston on the first day of February to do the voice-over for the White House doc.u.mentary, thinking that they would be gone no more than two weeks. Julia had scheduled an appointment to see her gynecologist during their stay, having felt a small lump several busy months ago. Dr. Arnold Segal wanted to do a biopsy but could not schedule an operating room in Beth Israel Hospital until the twenty-eighth. It would only be an overnight affair, she a.s.sured Simca in her frustration at not being able to return to La Pitchoune. "It is a very simple matter to take care of," she added. It was routine. Two days before she entered the hospital, she wrote to Simca that she took the ten days to cut down the introduction to bread (it would be nineteen published pages), and she would be out of the hospital in two or three days and back to France.

As it turned out, it was not "a simple matter," as it might have been twenty years later. At the time they did the biopsy, they removed her breast and the lymph nodes in her left arm as a precaution against spreading cancer, a practice typical of that time. Today the surgery would be considered too radical, for on March 4, in the middle of her ten days in the hospital, she was told the small tumor had been neatly removed. "All a.n.a.lysis OK & negative," she wrote in her datebook. She would have to wear a rubber sleeve and exercise that arm for months to remove the fluid and restore its use. "After seeing a photo of a naughty woman who refused to wear her rubber sleeve and what happened to her arm, I really hardly dare take mine off!" she told Simca. When she returned to Avis's house, where they were staying because they had rented their own house, she sat in the bathtub and privately wept.

With the same practicality she expressed when she told the doctor to perform the operation and get it over with, she told herself to get on with her work and not complain. "No radium, no chemotherapy, no caterwauling," she said in 1996. Thank G.o.d it was my left side and not my right, she wrote to Simca in a letter full of details about their ma.n.u.script and plans to get on with the recipes for tripe, calves' feet, and calves' heads. Each week when she returned to the doctor she asked when she could get back to France. They spent a weekend on Martha's Vineyard with Bob and Mary Kennedy, the weekend that LBJ said he would not run again for the presidency. World events would soon put her own pain into perspective: the next Thursday, Martin Luther King was a.s.sa.s.sinated in Memphis.

Paul was devastated by Julia's experience. He suffered when she merely had a bad cold. His friends say he had a terrible time, fearing he would lose her. "He was good and loving about both [the operations]," Julia wrote Simca. "I bless him and feel very fortunate." This man who wrote nearly every day of his life apparently did not write a word for weeks. Charlie and Freddie came to visit, as did John and Jo McWilliams, then Dort and her Phila, who decided to apply to Radcliffe for her college education and to live near her Aunt Julia.

At noon on April 11, Julia and Paul attended the press preview of "The White House Red Carpet" at WGBH. She tossed her last cigarette out the car window when it made her nauseous. That afternoon she saw Dr. Segal once more, and the following evening the Childs flew out of Boston for two months of recuperation. When the doc.u.mentary ran nationally on April 17, Julia and Paul were entertaining Simca and Jean at La Pitchoune.

In June, Avis visited the Childs there, and she confided to Bill Koshland that she was "a bit taken aback" by Julia's appearance. He agreed that when he had seen her in mid-May she was just beginning to come out of it. No one ever talked openly about mastectomies until Mrs. Nelson Rockefeller and Mrs. Gerald Ford were publicly candid several years later.

Julia's decision to stop smoking was reinforced in the spring of 1969 when Bob Kennedy was operated on for lung cancer and continued to smoke. A d.a.m.ned fool, Paul called him. He had the same opinion of Cora DuBois, who kept smoking after a diagnosis of emphysema. Three of their friends, all heavy smokers, died in 1969.

That year, Julia retreated even further to work on recipes for their second volume, which she and Simca constructed and tested for three years. The following year in Cambridge she wrote most of the book by retreating to the stove and typewriter. The deadline was moved again and again, but finally met in March 1970.

Chapter 20.

CELEBRITY AND S SOLITUDE.

(1968 1970) "There is really no such thing as an original recipe.... But cooks must feed their egos as well as their customers."

M. F. K. FISHER to Julia Child, October 4, 1968

AT THE INTERMISSION of the Boston Symphony, after Beethoven's Symphony No. 1 and Debussy's Rhapsody for saxophone and orchestra, Julia and Paul walked up one flight to see the little art exhibit (Paul called it "the usual second-rate painting exhibit") and were once more reminded, as they were in their walks about Cambridge, of her growing fame. Julia Watchers, as Paul called them. Would she just sign their music program? You have changed my life! They sent her gifts (and would for decades), and she would give most of them to friends or charity. In a letter to Charlie, Paul quoted one reviewer of her of the Boston Symphony, after Beethoven's Symphony No. 1 and Debussy's Rhapsody for saxophone and orchestra, Julia and Paul walked up one flight to see the little art exhibit (Paul called it "the usual second-rate painting exhibit") and were once more reminded, as they were in their walks about Cambridge, of her growing fame. Julia Watchers, as Paul called them. Would she just sign their music program? You have changed my life! They sent her gifts (and would for decades), and she would give most of them to friends or charity. In a letter to Charlie, Paul quoted one reviewer of her The French Chef Cookbook The French Chef Cookbook speaking for her fans: "We will march with Julia, our banner an impeccably clean towel, and speaking for her fans: "We will march with Julia, our banner an impeccably clean towel, and 'Bon Appet.i.t!' 'Bon Appet.i.t!' our cry, as our souffles rise higher and higher. We will conquer new Malakoffs and let our apple charlottes fall where they may." our cry, as our souffles rise higher and higher. We will conquer new Malakoffs and let our apple charlottes fall where they may."

Mary Frances wrote to tell Julia that her own fan mail often told her she had "a lot to learn, mostly from JC. You are mostly called 'Julia' ... their husbands can't keep their eyes off you for one thing and ... there seems to be no overt jealousy ... just a general amazement!" Even in her own Boston, Julia received honor. She was fast becoming an eccentric and lovable icon who, without pretension, brought honor to their city. The man who refinished her copper pots would not allow her to pay. And she was sought out socially by Stan Calderwood (a neighbor and vice president of Polaroid), Frank Morgan (Newsweek (Newsweek bureau chief), Tom Wins.h.i.+p (editor-in-chief of the bureau chief), Tom Wins.h.i.+p (editor-in-chief of the Boston Globe) Boston Globe), and Louis Kronenberger (theater critic) when he retired to Brookline in 1970.

THE PUBLIC JULIA.

Julia could not help but be aware of her public persona when she was stopped at the A&P, at the intermission of the symphony, or on the streets of Boston, or (by American tourists) in Paris. She was aware of it when the national journalists and photographers came for interviews and pictures. But the articles often came out when she was working with Simca in France; during the six months after her Time Time cover, she was out of the country and again in the months after her operation. She guarded her private life and did not need to stay around for the early edition displaying her face for the public. "She's very reserved," says restaurant consultant Clark Wolf. "If her physicality matched her voice, she'd be Soupy Sales." cover, she was out of the country and again in the months after her operation. She guarded her private life and did not need to stay around for the early edition displaying her face for the public. "She's very reserved," says restaurant consultant Clark Wolf. "If her physicality matched her voice, she'd be Soupy Sales."

"She had become a mover and shaker like her father," her sister said. "He would have been proud!" Even when she was in France, she remained in the public eye. Television reruns and journal articles fed the public image, while the private Julia was testing recipes with Simca or typing long letters about their recipes in her office.

When she was back in Cambridge, Julia was at ease with the press and, though she preferred cooking demonstrations, gave an occasional public speech. She was becoming a better speaker, Paul noticed. During an interview with Frank Morgan of Newsweek Newsweek, Paul told Charlie, he became aware of a quality in Julia after she had several vodkas (only gin or vodka had this effect) that reminded him of the description of Tallulah Bankhead, who died that week, as "a personality as much as a star. Her vibrant energy, explosive speech and impetuous behavior seemed at times a phenomenon better suited for study by physicists than by the journalists who chronicled her antics. I simply do not know her," Paul added, "no blurring of speech ... [but] up go the decibels and the big swooping gestures. Interruptions-by-the-yard. The law is laid down, decorated by cuss-words, jokes, stream-of-consciousness ..." In other words, Paul did not get a word in edgewise.

Her name appeared in several Newsweek Newsweek articles in 1968 as well as in articles in 1968 as well as in McCall's, New York McCall's, New York magazine, magazine, TV Guide TV Guide. ("The only national television female of real authority is Julia Child ... because her opinions are confined to the natural and universal pa.s.sion, Food. n.o.body can knock a woman Doing Her Thing in the Kitchen. And n.o.body cares if she doesn't look like Raquel Welch or have her hair done by Kenneth. In fact, quite properly, they care for her more because she is, simply, herself," wrote Marya Mannes.) In dozens of articles about other food professionals, Julia is always the one with whom they are compared or contrasted.

Vogue came to interview her in Plasca.s.sier, where she and Paul spent the 1968 holidays with Bob and Mary Kennedy. The came to interview her in Plasca.s.sier, where she and Paul spent the 1968 holidays with Bob and Mary Kennedy. The Vogue Vogue interviewer was one of Judith Jones's authors, as were several of the chefs chosen for Julia's later cooking-with-Julia books in the 1990s. A more welcome guest was Beard, whose visit led to two grand meals, at least in terms of cost, at L'Oasis and the Casino in Monte Carlo. Together they watched (via satellite from Houston to Madrid) the astronauts return to earth on Apollo 8. In 1969 it was journalists from interviewer was one of Judith Jones's authors, as were several of the chefs chosen for Julia's later cooking-with-Julia books in the 1990s. A more welcome guest was Beard, whose visit led to two grand meals, at least in terms of cost, at L'Oasis and the Casino in Monte Carlo. Together they watched (via satellite from Houston to Madrid) the astronauts return to earth on Apollo 8. In 1969 it was journalists from McCall's McCall's and and House & Garden House & Garden who came to Pitchoune for interviews to be published in 1970. who came to Pitchoune for interviews to be published in 1970.

Julia and Paul were always interested in national and international arts and politics. He was going to vote for Humphrey, but she, despite Kennedy's "kiddie sp.a.w.ning," was voting for Bobby Kennedy. She was devastated by his a.s.sa.s.sination, which they heard on their tiny transistor as the church bell was tolling in Plasca.s.sier in June 1968. She felt personally let down when Jacqueline Kennedy married Ona.s.sis, and was disturbed by the violence at the Democratic convention that summer.

American produce was a political issue as well. Julia took on fish as a cause when she was back in Boston that fall. She privately blamed in part the Catholics for the reluctant consumption of fish by the rest of the country (their traditional obligatory Friday fish regimen made many equate fish with penance and privation). With James Beard she planned a cooking demonstration for thirty newspaper food editors, a.s.serting the need for government support for better boats and docks. Their efforts, she informed Simca, were "a public service involving our educational station, the fis.h.i.+ng industry, the government and the press." As important as the issue itself was what she learned about fish from the demonstration (she informed Simca that "individually peeled and flash-frozen shrimp are tough, but nonpeeled, block-frozen shrimp are better").

Nixon was a "very dull man, self-righteous, ambitious, solemn, [with] no interest in food, no cultivated tastes," said Julia: a litany of qualities she most disliked in people. She repeated her opinions-and the same fish recipe-for the Chamberlains, who came to lunch on election day, and for the Brooks Becks the following night. She may have been perfecting her recipe, but she really wanted to talk about the dangerous "swing to the right" with the election of her fellow Californian, the man her father had helped enter national politics.

She and Paul were swept up in the political unrest that defined Harvard student life and the streets of Cambridge that fall ("hippy-c.u.m-Panther-c.u.m-drug" scene, Paul called it). There were riots in Harvard Yard, numerous break-ins in the neighborhood, and at the deSola Pools' next door (he was head of MIT's Center for International Studies) two bricks flew through the front window with a note attached: "Down with all Fascist Imperialists!" Paul had his own idea of fascists ("G.o.d alone can't get rid of J. Edgar Hoover," he lamented). In February 1970, Paul put in unbreakable plastic windows on the ground-floor windows and installed an elaborate alarm system, informing Charlie that their house was now "an illuminated monument to fear and to greater safety." (For aesthetic balance, he had a new wine cellar built, just for red wines.) In April the antiwar violence became familial when a second cousin of Julia's named Diana Oughton blew herself up accidentally (while making bombs) at a Weatherman house on Eleventh Street in Greenwich Village. "We are all swole up w/pride. Ho! Ho! Ho Chi Minh," Paul wrote cynically to Charlie.

Their letters reveal the Childs as cla.s.sic liberals. "If you eat right, you vote right," she told a journalist in Northampton. Their old friends were now part of the establishment-Abe Manell was an a.s.sistant to the President, former Was.h.i.+ngton neighbor Stuart Rockwell an amba.s.sador-but they themselves were sometimes antiestablishment. Each position was nuanced. They opposed the violence at Harvard, yet were in favor of abortion rights and the peaceful opposition to Nixon and the Vietnam War. She believed many students were in college "to grow up," much like her own academic career at Smith ("Somebody like me should not have been accepted at a serious inst.i.tution").

With the pressure on to complete Volume II, Julia resented every interruption and longed for solitude. If she had to travel she continued her experiments with friends and family. She worked on puff pastry (pate feuilletee) (pate feuilletee) in Maine in August; pates and terrines on Martha's Vineyard while visiting Bob Kennedy; beef and fowl in Dublin, New Hamps.h.i.+re, with Helen Kirkpatrick Milbank for two Thanksgivings; and cakes on Long Pond beyond Plymouth at the Howes' summer home. One tradition was always honored: once a week she and Paul went across the Charles River to have Julia's hair washed and set and to dine together at the Ritz Grill (where women had to be accompanied by men). Another ritual was always to shop for groceries together, as much for companions.h.i.+p as the need for two people to transport their voluminous purchases. in Maine in August; pates and terrines on Martha's Vineyard while visiting Bob Kennedy; beef and fowl in Dublin, New Hamps.h.i.+re, with Helen Kirkpatrick Milbank for two Thanksgivings; and cakes on Long Pond beyond Plymouth at the Howes' summer home. One tradition was always honored: once a week she and Paul went across the Charles River to have Julia's hair washed and set and to dine together at the Ritz Grill (where women had to be accompanied by men). Another ritual was always to shop for groceries together, as much for companions.h.i.+p as the need for two people to transport their voluminous purchases.

Every dinner guest was a guinea pig for the book, whether it was Sybille Bedford when she came to Cambridge to research her biography of Aldous Huxley; Gay Bradley or Rosemary Manell from California; or Alfred Knopf himself, to whom she fed her mousse de poisson mousse de poisson. She never wasted time on a meal preparation that did not relate to her research. If the recipe was less than perfect, she said nothing. Their guests ate informally but well around the large Norwegian table in the kitchen.

COMPLETING MASTERING II MASTERING II.

"Rus.h.i.+ng from stove to typewriter like a mad hen," she described herself midway through their final three-year push to complete the second volume of Mastering the Art of French Cooking Mastering the Art of French Cooking. She worked seven-day weeks during the first five months of 1969, went to France to cook with Simca-though Simca was there only part of the time-then returned for the final eight months (until nearly April 1970) for more seven-day workweeks. She even worked that Christmas, bemoaning only that they were missing for the first time the winter foie gras and truffle season in France.

"I think we are the English-language Saint-Ange," Julia confided to Simca. This book must be "better and different," they agreed, for the compet.i.tion is now greater, and "people expect to get the absolute word of the lord from us." Because they had a great responsibility to live up to, Julia tested some recipes fifteen or twenty times if necessary. She was disappointed to learn that her beloved James Beard used his a.s.sistant to test his recipes and that there were errors in his Theory and Practice Theory and Practice (1969). He is "doing too much else," she confided to Simca. Then she heard that Michael Field signed on for twelve 150-page booklets, one to be published each month. By contrast, when Simca suggested they include couscous in their volume, Julia spent a full month researching the origins and ingredients and testing recipes until she finally rejected it. (1969). He is "doing too much else," she confided to Simca. Then she heard that Michael Field signed on for twelve 150-page booklets, one to be published each month. By contrast, when Simca suggested they include couscous in their volume, Julia spent a full month researching the origins and ingredients and testing recipes until she finally rejected it.

If a name or recipe was not French, they made note of the fact, as in filet de boeuf en croute: filet de boeuf en croute: "Whether the English, the Irish, or the French baked the first filet of beef in a crust we shall probably never know, but [it] is certain that the French would not have named it after Wellington," she wrote. Also, in a pa.s.sing reference to sour dough, Julia wrote, "Sour dough is an American invention, not French, and you adapt your sour dough recipe to the method described here for plain French bread." Later, food writer Karen Hess, who believed that the beef Wellington should not have even been included, disagreed with Julia about the origins of sour dough. "Whether the English, the Irish, or the French baked the first filet of beef in a crust we shall probably never know, but [it] is certain that the French would not have named it after Wellington," she wrote. Also, in a pa.s.sing reference to sour dough, Julia wrote, "Sour dough is an American invention, not French, and you adapt your sour dough recipe to the method described here for plain French bread." Later, food writer Karen Hess, who believed that the beef Wellington should not have even been included, disagreed with Julia about the origins of sour dough.

Julia checked every recipe with the French cla.s.sics. "We cannot use tomato in bisque," she said, "because neither Careme or Escoffier or others give tomatoes in their bisques, therefore to protect ourselves from criticism by knowing types" she said no. They also remade some cla.s.sic dishes too briefly described in the older texts and occasionally found inspiration when they ate out. After eating a delicious loup de mer en croute loup de mer en croute at L'Oasis, Julia and Simca tried to copy it, revising and refining it several times over two months. Because she had all the French cla.s.sic texts and subscribed to current French at L'Oasis, Julia and Simca tried to copy it, revising and refining it several times over two months. Because she had all the French cla.s.sic texts and subscribed to current French (Cuisine et Vins de France (Cuisine et Vins de France and and La France a Table) La France a Table) and English-language food periodicals, she checked their recipes carefully for originality. "It cannot be copied-if close it must be improved," she told Simca. And if it was improved, they must acknowledge its origins. While making and English-language food periodicals, she checked their recipes carefully for originality. "It cannot be copied-if close it must be improved," she told Simca. And if it was improved, they must acknowledge its origins. While making pain d'epices pain d'epices, Julia discovered it was an adaptation of one in Ali-Bab that had too much liquid. "We cannot copy an Ali-Bab cla.s.sic," she said, and did not use it. When Simca suggested adding orange marmalade to pain d'epices pain d'epices, Julia said she did not want to add ingredients that echoed "ladies' magazines and English additions."

Again, their recipes fell between the haute cuisine haute cuisine of the three-star chef and the bourgeois cooking one would see at a wedding feast. Julia, who wrote all the script, applied the techniques of the chefs to dishes from middle-cla.s.s and farm regions. "Is it French in technique?" she would ask, or declare, "Don't add milk, it is not in the French tradition." When she labeled the cuts of meat or questioned American produce, Julia wrote to national and government sources, always asking questions. "She was good because she was curious," notes Russ Morash. of the three-star chef and the bourgeois cooking one would see at a wedding feast. Julia, who wrote all the script, applied the techniques of the chefs to dishes from middle-cla.s.s and farm regions. "Is it French in technique?" she would ask, or declare, "Don't add milk, it is not in the French tradition." When she labeled the cuts of meat or questioned American produce, Julia wrote to national and government sources, always asking questions. "She was good because she was curious," notes Russ Morash.

Finally, of course, they had their same publisher, ill.u.s.trator, and editor. Judith Jones was an editor made for these volumes and for working with Julia. Julia respected her knowledge of cooking, Paul her "New Englandy" restraint. She kept a "loose rein" on Julia, but paid a couple of encouraging visits to Cambridge when Julia needed them (William Koshland was leading the company since Knopf's retirement). After one weekend of work with Judith until one in the morning, Paul informed Charlie that Judith Jones "could be a Fairy Queen who has chosen to take on human form. She is also perceptive, kind, shy, skillful at her job and (curiously) tough. It's a great pleasure to work with her."

One of the major differences in Volume II was that Julia was now closer to home and American produce, as she frequently pointed out to Simca. ("Things are different here ... our sole fillets are thicker ... [and] you have to be here to know what is available, and what things taste like.") Also, they included several recipes and food groups not appearing in Volume I: choucroute choucroute, bisques (with ill.u.s.trations of cutting up lobster and crab), broccoli, courgettes, and, of course, the French bread she and Paul tested and tested.

Julia discovered that the gluten content differed between French (9 percent) and U.S. (11.5 percent) flours. They also came up with a new puff pastry recipe that was superior to all they tasted, using 1 cups of A&P flour and cup of cake flour (or to ). Much better results than using regular flour, she discovered. Julia picked up the idea from the pastry chef at the White House. The puff pastry section soon swelled to a comprehensive thirty-two pages.

The tension mounted as the months pa.s.sed and more people at Knopf tasted their recipes. They feared their French bread and puff pastry recipes would be stolen. They trusted only their secret testers, including Freddie Child, Avis DeVoto, and neighbor Pat Pratt. But when Time-Life asked to publish their bread recipe, Julia was surprised that they even knew it was in the works. She refused, and they soon came out with a supplement claiming to give "an American version of French bread." Julia wrote to Simca: "I am happy to report that theirs has no relation whatsoever to the way French bread is made in France-thank heaven. I was so afraid they would get hold of Carvel, too! Michael Field, I am quite sure, knows nothing at all about yeast." Calvel gave them (after months of their own experimenting) private lessons in Paris using American flour they took to him. When a man in j.a.pan wrote about the Calvel techniques of bread making, Julia worried needlessly. No one else paid any attention.

In the second, as in the first, volume Julia focused on time-saving devices, such as what portion of a recipe could be made in advance, while staying away from what she called cuisine express, which was growing in France. She was now concerned with fat content because of the increased attention to cholesterol in the United States. She wrote Simca: Do you think we shall have to think a little about cholesterol and not too much b.u.t.ter and cream in Vol. II? I am afraid we may have to, and will ask Judith what she thinks. A most disturbing report has come out of the American National Heart a.s.sociation, saying there should even be a law, to save people's lives, etc. I am asking a girl from a big b.u.t.ter company what they are doing to combat this horrible situation.