THE HOUSE BUILT BY A BOOK.

The first formal plans were agreed upon by mail back in November 1963, the week John Kennedy was a.s.sa.s.sinated. Julia wept openly at the President's death, Paul reported in his letters to Simca and Jean. When they decided on a single-level dwelling, Paul opened a line of credit for Jean and Simca to use for the building. Paul had originally struggled with the builder, who wanted to create a palazzo. But Paul and Julia wanted a more modest home requiring little maintenance, one built from book royalties, where they could live a simple life. "I finally got what we wanted," Paul said. "I'm tough and I speak perfect French." Despite Paul's public frugality, Julia's January 1966 royalty payment of $19,000 paid for half the house (the previous midyear royalty total had been $26,000).

That December, they walked through the front door facing the hill town. Before them was the long living and dining area with a fireplace on the left wall, all in white stucco. The floors were tiled. Down the hall to the right were the kitchen on the left, guest room to the right, and at the end of the hall, Julia's room on the left, with her built-in desk shelf along the window facing south, and to the right Paul's room with a little fireplace and door opening out to the front stone terrace. His room contained the double bed, where Julia, a prodigious snorer, could cuddle with her insomniac husband every morning. "The house is a jewel, even in its unfinished state," she wrote Avis. Julia told the Smith College alumnae newsletter that they planned to "smell the mimosas all winter, curing our own olives and cooking entirely with garlic and wild herbs." She wrote Helen Evans Brown (a month before Helen's death): "We live on an olive-strewn land, and we hope to hobble about the vineyards there when we are 80 and 90-the Lord willing."

This first five-month stay, from early December 1965 through March 1966, would set the pattern-from three to six months a year in La Pitchoune-that was to continue through the 1970s, when Paul's declining health necessitated shorter visits. While Julia wintered in Provence, her television programs continued running, now in nearly a hundred cities. Her audience always felt her presence in their homeland, if not their own homes, and Avis mailed weekly a.n.a.lyses of each program to Julia in France.

"All the essentials are here," Julia wrote to James Beard at the beginning of the new year. "Paul [with Charlie's help] has 'hung' the kitchen, so we feel we are in business. In fact, we are so happy I doubt if we shall go to Paris at all. The weather has been sunny, rainy, warm, cold, and the garden is growing. Simca and Jean have been so thoughtful of every detail, we are quite overwhelmed."

With the new year coming to a close, Julia settled in to preparing her recipes for what would be the final shooting of The French Chef The French Chef. The hope by 1966 was to suspend making new tapes until they finished Mastering the Art of French Cooking II Mastering the Art of French Cooking II. Paul turned sixty-four in mid-January with a sense of peace, listening to the wind sighing in the cypresses and what he called "my favorite woodp.e.c.k.e.r ... tap-tap-tapping away on TV recipes."

This first lengthy stay in La Pitchoune was devoted to cooking, writing, and typing recipes for the tapings, a preparation made easier without the constant telephone calls and appearances. She was talking to WGBH, Beard, and Michael Field about having a weekly half-hour cooking program featuring a variety of chefs. She confided to Avis that if WGBH would get Michael Field (who had a New York cooking school) and others on the Educational Television Network, it "would let me off the hook, and would give others a chance, and be refreshing to have a change." Such sentiments express her generosity as much as they do her possible naivete about the growing compet.i.tiveness of the market.

Among their favorite guests was Sybille Bedford, the English novelist (best known for A Legacy A Legacy, 1956), who rented nearby with her mate Eda Lord (a former cla.s.smate of M. F. K. Fisher and, according to Paul's description, "[Bedford's] Alice B. Toklas"). When Julia was particularly busy, Simca's maid and sometime cook, Jeanne (Jeanette) Villar, an illiterate but much adored domestic who lived on the property, would prepare the roast lamb for their dinners together. They liked Sybille (a Cora DuBois type, Paul thought), bearlike and direct, colorful and outspoken, who poked into every drawer and cupboard on her first visit. They admired her eccentricity, intellect, and pa.s.sion for wine and food (Paul took her advice on wine purchases). They pumped her with questions about her coverage (for Life) Life) of the Jack Ruby trial in Dallas. of the Jack Ruby trial in Dallas.

Other favorite guests, whose visits were "cozy and relaxed," were Robert Penn Warren and Eleanor Clark, who lived nearby in 1967. It was only when "Red" received the Bollingen Prize that Julia discovered he wrote poetry as well. On a return visit to the Warren house, they dined with Max Ernst (and, according to Paul, his "loud-mouth" American wife). Other visitors in 1967 included Bob and Mary Kennedy of Boston, Bill Koshland of Knopf, Helene Baltrusaitis (without "old Yogourt," her husband) from Paris, and Peter and Mari Bicknell from Cambridge, England, who would stay on during April after the Charlie Childs and Kennedys drove back to Paris and headed home (with a trunk full of French cookware for the WGBH auction). "No hidin' place ...," Paul informed Charlie. It was as if old friends and gastronomes would arrive in Cannes or Nice and follow the smell of mimosas. "It's astonishing how many of our friends and family have reached this semi-demi-mini hermitage since we first touched down," he wrote to Charlie on April 7, 1967. And each year the numbers grew.

Julia was also caught up in the local community, nursing Jeanne Villar when she was ill, getting involved in the lives of all the local shopkeepers, including the illnesses and deaths of their neighbors. She seemed to know them all by name, according to her letters.

Julia and Simca were in the talking stages on their second volume of Mastering the Art of French Cooking Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Julia constructed the outline in 1966 (by then their first volume had sold a quarter of a million copies); they were choosing and testing the recipes in 1966 and 1967. Recipes went back and forth in their weekly letters (when they were not together). Mastering II Mastering II would include some of the recipes, particularly the baked foods, they had not put in the first volume. Simca continued to teach her cla.s.s in Paris during the winter months. Julia would visit occasionally on her way to or from La Pitchoune, with a detour to see her own chef, Max Bugnard, now eighty-two and crippled with arthritis. would include some of the recipes, particularly the baked foods, they had not put in the first volume. Simca continued to teach her cla.s.s in Paris during the winter months. Julia would visit occasionally on her way to or from La Pitchoune, with a detour to see her own chef, Max Bugnard, now eighty-two and crippled with arthritis.

"Simca was outspoken and a lot like my mother," said one of Simca's students, Ailene Martin. "Everything was black and white, there was no middle ground." This French dogmatism did not always endear her to Paul. Simca had a ferocious concentration that some called driven or obsessive, and her laughter could be harsh. One journalist described her as having hints of Margaret Leighton and Marlene Dietrich in her manner. She was vivacious, stubborn, and opinionated, and sometimes Julia and Simca had major disagreements. Each called the other, behind her back, une force de la nature une force de la nature. Betty Kubler confirms the willfulness of Simca: "Julia had an instinct about when to go along and when to hold back ... it was the same instinct she had on the stage; it was sheer drama working with Simca."

When Julia walked out onto her stone terrace with coffee cup in hand early in the morning, she looked over the rolling layers of hills and listened to the silence. She particularly admired the 150-year-old olive tree in front of their house where the workman had carefully lowered it for replanting. In the spring, when the almond trees were flowering, she "would hear the frogs croaking in the little river at the bottom of our hill," she wrote Avis. One or the other of the cats, Minouche or her mother, Mimimere, rubbed against her leg in greeting. Later, when the warm sun would bake the floral smells, and mimosas scented every breath, she would take the fieldstone and gra.s.s path to the side kitchen door of Simca's kitchen, where they planned their day and discussed the problem of a particular recipe.

Proximity spurred their creativity. Julia made a deboned chicken breast stuffed with mushrooms for Simca and experimented with croissants. Simca created a frozen mousse with caramelized walnuts and kirsch in cookie cups. These experiments, dated February and March 1966, appeared radically transformed in the second volume of Mastering the Art of French Cooking Mastering the Art of French Cooking. In July they were corresponding about chocolate cakes and finding the best method of melting chocolate. By 1967, they were testing soup and pate en croute pate en croute, then moving in on their perfect chocolate cake (Julia brought American chocolate with her). The only cooking Julia disliked was deep-fat frying and the making of "little" hors d'oeuvres or canapes.

Two or three times a week, Julia would go to one of the surrounding towns and walk through the shops or markets, filling her blue-and-green-plaid cloth baskets. Her kitchen quickly filled up, for, as Paul described it, "Julia is a compulsive gadget, cooking-vessel, and tool buyer." They would buy wine at Clenchard's in Cannes, check out the new supermarche supermarche in Cannes to compare it with the Giant in Washington, DC, visit the Fondation Maeght gallery in St.-Paul-de-Vence, and sometimes take brief trips to meet friends in Montreux, Gstaad, Lausanne, and Paris. Julia always visited Elizabeth Arden on Thursdays in Cannes for her hair trim and set (Paul called it getting "Ardenized," and later approved of her purchase in Cambridge of a wig for "unexpected" public appearances-"slightly more chestnutty than her own hair color"). When they ate out it was at the Auberge du Coin in Biot or the two-star L'Oasis at La Napoule, just outside Cannes. After one such dinner, Julia and Simca re-created in Cannes to compare it with the Giant in Washington, DC, visit the Fondation Maeght gallery in St.-Paul-de-Vence, and sometimes take brief trips to meet friends in Montreux, Gstaad, Lausanne, and Paris. Julia always visited Elizabeth Arden on Thursdays in Cannes for her hair trim and set (Paul called it getting "Ardenized," and later approved of her purchase in Cambridge of a wig for "unexpected" public appearances-"slightly more chestnutty than her own hair color"). When they ate out it was at the Auberge du Coin in Biot or the two-star L'Oasis at La Napoule, just outside Cannes. After one such dinner, Julia and Simca re-created loup en croute loup en croute (French ba.s.s), which Paul photographed. (French ba.s.s), which Paul photographed.

The coming of the supermarche supermarche was not the only change the Childs observed through the years. As early at 1967 Paul declared, "We are in a Los Angeles 1915 situation," referring to the mushrooming of new houses around Cannes. He bemoaned the "progress." Julia was disheartened by the trend of French women to be "a.s.sembler cooks," like American women who put together canned or frozen things with a bit of fresh stuff and flavoring before baking it. With prosperity, more conveniences, and hired help, French women soon would not be able to cook, Julia lamented. Simca agreed. was not the only change the Childs observed through the years. As early at 1967 Paul declared, "We are in a Los Angeles 1915 situation," referring to the mushrooming of new houses around Cannes. He bemoaned the "progress." Julia was disheartened by the trend of French women to be "a.s.sembler cooks," like American women who put together canned or frozen things with a bit of fresh stuff and flavoring before baking it. With prosperity, more conveniences, and hired help, French women soon would not be able to cook, Julia lamented. Simca agreed.

The influence of Provencal cooking was evident in the Childs' Valentine's Day card of 1966: A chef wearing a toque is carrying a large spoonful of red hearts over his shoulder, the other hand is dragging a chain of garlics. ("Jeanne Villar taught Julia and Simca everything about Provencal cooking," declared Ailene Martin.) In 1967 they just sent a photograph of La Pitchoune, for the mailing list was growing to more than 300 names and they were ready to end this tradition.

Over the years, James Beard, M. F. K. Fisher, Michael Field, and other culinary luminaries were drawn to the shrine of good eating at the Beck/Child compound. In 1966, James Beard rented La Pitchoune for June; and Michael (and Frances) Field in July and August. In 1967, Poppy Cannon, now the food editor at The Ladies' Home Journal The Ladies' Home Journal, came by for a visit in March-Julia did not like the name of the journal (Ezra Pound once called it The Ladies' Home Urinal) The Ladies' Home Urinal) but invited her to lunch and later in the year gave an interview and recipes for a Christmas-in-Cambridge piece. Beard spent several summers renting La Pitchoune (May through July), working on his but invited her to lunch and later in the year gave an interview and recipes for a Christmas-in-Cambridge piece. Beard spent several summers renting La Pitchoune (May through July), working on his American Cookery American Cookery there. Jeanne, who adored him, called him her there. Jeanne, who adored him, called him her "gros." "gros." Perhaps all these food writers were unknowingly inspired by the ghost of Auguste Escoffier, who was born nearby in Villeneuve-Loubet. Perhaps all these food writers were unknowingly inspired by the ghost of Auguste Escoffier, who was born nearby in Villeneuve-Loubet.

Each winter for nearly twenty years, Julia and Paul took the train (or flew) down from Paris, rented a car from Hertz, and spent the winter and early spring months at "La Peetch." They adhered to their habit of early rising, marketing (Julia's favorite was in the rue Meynadier in Cannes), and painting for Paul; and, after work, a c.o.c.ktail hour on the terrace in warm weather. They walked every path and hill in the region, visited a restaurant every week (usually with disappointing results), kept up with events through letters, the International Herald Tribune International Herald Tribune, and L'Express L'Express. Paul resumed both his diary-letter to Charlie, in his best pen-and-ink script, and his painting in a renovated cabanon cabanon (a Provencal shepherd's hut of two rooms, one atop the other) just yards from their home. The entire estate had been inherited by Simca's two sisters-in-law and was called Bramafam (in local dialect, "cry for hunger"). (a Provencal shepherd's hut of two rooms, one atop the other) just yards from their home. The entire estate had been inherited by Simca's two sisters-in-law and was called Bramafam (in local dialect, "cry for hunger").

AWARDS AND HONORS.

If La Pitchoune was the major material reward for her labors, the honorary public awards began that April 1965 at the Hotel Pierre in New York, when Julia was given the Peabody Award. She told Simca that their program was "receiving an award of some sort" in New York, not apparently impressed that the George Foster Peabody Award was the top award for broadcasting. Yet Paul was "all swollen up with vicarious pride."

The next month, she and Paul went to the Americana Hotel in New York for the East Coast ceremony for television's Emmy (named for "Immy," an engineering term for the camera tube). The ceremony was to be hosted by Bill Cosby, then a co-star of I Spy I Spy. The West Coast partic.i.p.ants were gathered at the Palladium in Hollywood, where the show was hosted by Danny Kaye. Both audiences were being hurried through their dinner when a man came to the table and handed Julia her award: The French Chef The French Chef won for the best program on educational television. Her producer, Ruth Lockwood, was sitting beside her and heard Julia, who rarely watched television, ask Cosby, "Would you mind telling me what your name is?" "Certainly," Cosby replied, "Sidney Pokier." When the ceremony began, all the Educational Television Network people at their table realized there would be no airtime for the presentation of their award. Commercial television had its prerogatives; Julia lodged a strong complaint, less for herself than for the snub of public broadcasting. won for the best program on educational television. Her producer, Ruth Lockwood, was sitting beside her and heard Julia, who rarely watched television, ask Cosby, "Would you mind telling me what your name is?" "Certainly," Cosby replied, "Sidney Pokier." When the ceremony began, all the Educational Television Network people at their table realized there would be no airtime for the presentation of their award. Commercial television had its prerogatives; Julia lodged a strong complaint, less for herself than for the snub of public broadcasting.

Julia was the first educational television personality to win an Emmy.

With the increased publicity and business, she hired a full-time secretary, Gladys Christopherson, who would work for her for the next ten years. When Julia was on the road or abroad, Gladys opened and forwarded mail. Ruth Lockwood always handled the business and appearances, saying no to some very important interview requests (such as The Times The Times of London) so that the program taping could be finished and the book could progress. of London) so that the program taping could be finished and the book could progress.

In August, while they were in Maine (where Julia baked dozens of experimental batches of brioches and they roasted a suckling pig), Joan Barthel's lengthy feature story on Julia in The New York Times Magazine The New York Times Magazine appeared, calling her "educational TV's answer to underground movie and pop-op cults-the program that can be campier than 'Batman,' farther-out than 'Lost in s.p.a.ce' and more penetrating than 'Meet the Press' as it probes the question: Can a Society be Great if its bread tastes like Kleenex?" Her "simultaneously gravelly and trilling" voice emphasized the "comic vein running through the program": the "chatty asides," and occasional acrobatics (such as demonstrating on her own body the various cuts of meat). Barthel also reported that Ruth Lockwood had to talk Julia out of washing and toweling the suckling pig ("Please don't call it 'him'"). Instead, Julia mentioned on the air in pa.s.sing that she brushed the teeth and cleaned the ears. appeared, calling her "educational TV's answer to underground movie and pop-op cults-the program that can be campier than 'Batman,' farther-out than 'Lost in s.p.a.ce' and more penetrating than 'Meet the Press' as it probes the question: Can a Society be Great if its bread tastes like Kleenex?" Her "simultaneously gravelly and trilling" voice emphasized the "comic vein running through the program": the "chatty asides," and occasional acrobatics (such as demonstrating on her own body the various cuts of meat). Barthel also reported that Ruth Lockwood had to talk Julia out of washing and toweling the suckling pig ("Please don't call it 'him'"). Instead, Julia mentioned on the air in pa.s.sing that she brushed the teeth and cleaned the ears.

A very different take on the appeal of her programs comes from MIT's Douwe Yntema, who reports that a group of physicists and applied engineers at the Lincoln Laboratory gathered weekly to watch Julia. The men, according to Yntema, were interested in her technique, her attention to detail and rules. Here was a woman on television who was not s.e.xy and was not selling something; she was demonstrating technique, and they were fascinated. Over 350 letters a week came into WGBH alone. Among the 104 stations, New York City's WNDT sometimes received 1,000 requests for a particular recipe. Many letters could be answered by the stations, which had copies of the recipes, but Julia's correspondence was always burdensome.

She and Paul topped off their Maine vacation that year with a stay at Bread Loaf in Vermont, where Julia attended every lecture ("I learn so much! ... But can't say much for the inst.i.tutional food") and met with their old friend poet John Nims. After six years, Bread Loaf's "spirit of Robert Frost and b.l.o.o.d.y Mary" had not faded for Julia and Paul. She was one of many writers there, though she would not have considered herself one. The fame did not seem to affect her except for the influx of letters, which by September numbered more than her secretary and she could handle, even with the growing use of form letters.

In the third week of October 1966, Life Life published an article featuring Julia "hamming it up in the published an article featuring Julia "hamming it up in the haute cuisine" haute cuisine" and three of Paul's photographs. The article praised her "wizardry," guessed that "a sizable portion of her following are people who wouldn't know a truffle from a toadstool," and a.s.serted that her program "has immeasurable effect on the commodity market." Julia confided to Simca that she was getting used to the publicity: "I find I am shamelessly avid for sales of the book. I can't say I would do anything at all, of course, but I will certainly expose myself (or you!) to any number of things which would have appalled me some years ago, when good breeding meant never having one's name in print!" Her next-door neighbor, Ithiel deSola Pool (MIT professor in communications and public opinion), often remarked to his wife, "You know, Julia is revolutionizing what women can do in this country. She may not know it, but she is doing it." and three of Paul's photographs. The article praised her "wizardry," guessed that "a sizable portion of her following are people who wouldn't know a truffle from a toadstool," and a.s.serted that her program "has immeasurable effect on the commodity market." Julia confided to Simca that she was getting used to the publicity: "I find I am shamelessly avid for sales of the book. I can't say I would do anything at all, of course, but I will certainly expose myself (or you!) to any number of things which would have appalled me some years ago, when good breeding meant never having one's name in print!" Her next-door neighbor, Ithiel deSola Pool (MIT professor in communications and public opinion), often remarked to his wife, "You know, Julia is revolutionizing what women can do in this country. She may not know it, but she is doing it."

Then, on November 25, Time Time put her on the cover of the magazine in a feature article on American food, "Everyone's in the Kitchen." The article doc.u.mented the increasing availability of American produce, the growing number of cookbooks (of the 206 "last year alone," their five-year-old put her on the cover of the magazine in a feature article on American food, "Everyone's in the Kitchen." The article doc.u.mented the increasing availability of American produce, the growing number of cookbooks (of the 206 "last year alone," their five-year-old Mastering Mastering was still the best seller), and the history of American cooks (picturing Fannie Farmer, Dione Lucas, Craig Claiborne, and James Beard). Julia declared in 1984 that the was still the best seller), and the history of American cooks (picturing Fannie Farmer, Dione Lucas, Craig Claiborne, and James Beard). Julia declared in 1984 that the Time Time cover story was the fifth most important event in her career, after meeting Paul, attending the Cordon Bleu and meeting Simca, the book, and television. cover story was the fifth most important event in her career, after meeting Paul, attending the Cordon Bleu and meeting Simca, the book, and television.

The food community also considered the Time Time cover story something of a "watershed" event, conferring "genuine legitimacy on gastronomy and cooking after years of mockery and condescension," according to one food writer, who went on to mistakenly claim that "the cult of Julia drew its initiates almost entirely from the most affluent strata of society and the inhabitants of Georgetown, Cambridge, Beverly Hills, the north sh.o.r.e of Chicago, and the Upper East Side of New York." cover story something of a "watershed" event, conferring "genuine legitimacy on gastronomy and cooking after years of mockery and condescension," according to one food writer, who went on to mistakenly claim that "the cult of Julia drew its initiates almost entirely from the most affluent strata of society and the inhabitants of Georgetown, Cambridge, Beverly Hills, the north sh.o.r.e of Chicago, and the Upper East Side of New York."

Here she was, "our lady of the ladle," gazing benevolently from the cover of Time Time at her vast American following. She was now a rea.s.suring and familiar icon, a national treasure, cherished for her pervasive presence on television. The large spoon she waved on the pages and covers of magazines was never threatening: like the baton of the conductor, it was calling her countrymen to a celebration of good food and wine, a magic wand offering entry to the secrets and joys of cooking. Every cla.s.s of people loved her, as her mail and the greetings of workmen and tradespeople affirmed. If at first it was chiefly the affluent cla.s.s of New England that cooked with her, her appeal reached out to the great middle cla.s.s. "French cooking now rose from the ashes in middle-cla.s.s America," says historian Harvey Levenstein, and it was Julia, he says, who gave it "an energetic push." at her vast American following. She was now a rea.s.suring and familiar icon, a national treasure, cherished for her pervasive presence on television. The large spoon she waved on the pages and covers of magazines was never threatening: like the baton of the conductor, it was calling her countrymen to a celebration of good food and wine, a magic wand offering entry to the secrets and joys of cooking. Every cla.s.s of people loved her, as her mail and the greetings of workmen and tradespeople affirmed. If at first it was chiefly the affluent cla.s.s of New England that cooked with her, her appeal reached out to the great middle cla.s.s. "French cooking now rose from the ashes in middle-cla.s.s America," says historian Harvey Levenstein, and it was Julia, he says, who gave it "an energetic push."

While the feature stories and awards heralded her influence on the way Americans were learning to cook, the preponderance of citizens still tossed together ca.s.seroles of ground beef and canned soup and were enthusiastic about Tang, Cool Whip, and salads with bacon bits sprinkled on top. In the university communities they played folk music and ate paella, the most recent fad. And McDonald's was, in one food historian's view, "the nation's greatest cooked food retailer." While American tastes were still largely pedestrian, they were slowly evolving from green Jell-O and mock apple pie made with Ritz crackers to quiche lorraine quiche lorraine and and boeuf bourguignon boeuf bourguignon. "The same working mother who repairs to McDonald's three times a week," claims one economist, "may settle down on the weekend for a bout of gourmet cooking."

Consequently, food writing and food consulting grew fast. According to food writer Robert Clark, "the stakes in food writing and consulting were rising exponentially ... [and] it still seemed for most people in the food business as though there were too few opportunities and too many rivals." Oblivious to rivalry, Julia urged Beard and others to come to Boston and "cook exactly the way you want." The pay was only $200 plus food costs for each program, but she wanted them to teach on her local station. The benefits from television lay in book sales, she a.s.sured Beard.

In return for the boost in her book sales, Julia gave much back to WGBH, including the earnings from her demonstrations, for which she received about $500 for a two-hour performance. She also partic.i.p.ated in fund-raisings and auctions, helping them take in $126,000 in May 1967. Julia kept all her own financial books and did her own agenting until, at one of their Harvard/Atlantic Monthly group c.o.c.ktail parties, Brooks Beck expressed horror that Julia was not involved in estate planning, establishing a revocable trust, and making provisions to protect her name from "invasion of the right of privacy." Julia and Paul made plans to hire him.

The Time Time cover and the resulting increase in book sales, which tripled in December (the months following the magazine's appearance) and quadrupled in January, was most important financially to Simca and Louisette. Simca's husband, Jean Fischbacher, was just beginning a struggling pharmaceutical company called Sederma, and Julia said, "I don't know how they would have gotten along at all otherwise." Louisette also needed money, though her share was only 18 percent (Julia and Simca each had 41 percent). One weekend in early 1967, when Louisette visited her two former partners with the man she was soon to marry, Count Henri de Naleche (t.i.tled but poor), Julia realized that Louisette's modest royalty check of nearly $3,000 meant a lot to them financially. More than a year before, Julia wrote Simca: "Well, who would have thought we'd ever get so much money out of that book, great as it is, I never thought we'd do much more than make expenses." cover and the resulting increase in book sales, which tripled in December (the months following the magazine's appearance) and quadrupled in January, was most important financially to Simca and Louisette. Simca's husband, Jean Fischbacher, was just beginning a struggling pharmaceutical company called Sederma, and Julia said, "I don't know how they would have gotten along at all otherwise." Louisette also needed money, though her share was only 18 percent (Julia and Simca each had 41 percent). One weekend in early 1967, when Louisette visited her two former partners with the man she was soon to marry, Count Henri de Naleche (t.i.tled but poor), Julia realized that Louisette's modest royalty check of nearly $3,000 meant a lot to them financially. More than a year before, Julia wrote Simca: "Well, who would have thought we'd ever get so much money out of that book, great as it is, I never thought we'd do much more than make expenses."

In 1967 she would receive more accolades. Harper's Bazaar's Harper's Bazaar's hundredth anniversary issue named her one of the "100 Women of Accomplishment" in America. hundredth anniversary issue named her one of the "100 Women of Accomplishment" in America.

THE FINAL TELEVISION PROGRAMS.

The previous May in Boston, they had frantically taped twenty-two more programs to complete what would be the first series, before Julia would quit to complete her second book with Simca, and Ruth Lockwood could go on to produce Joyce Chen's Chinese cooking shows. Before each program Julia pinned on her blouse the round insignia created by Paul for L'Ecole des Trois Gourmandes, the cooking school they started fourteen years earlier in Paris (one letter asked if the insignia was a De Gaulle b.u.t.ton). She complained to Simca about the demanding television work, adding: "It certainly has sold that old book!" She laughed when Beard wrote her that Clementine Paddleford announced at a Dione Lucas dinner that "cookbooks don't make any money."

Typically, Julia and Paul arose before dawn to pack their car with food and heavy equipment. "If it weren't for Paul," Julia said at the time, "I wouldn't do the television." She always wrote to Simca about the success and failures of each program, including the unmolding of a potato mold that "just quietly collapsed. So we had to shoot that final bit again.... Did learn something though, that you have to have them well browned down the side of the mold, indicating they are done and will hold."

The audiences, now invited for the final tapings, turned out in droves. "WGBH has to turn away hundreds of people weekly, each willing to pay $5 to the WGBH Building Fund for the privilege of watching the show backstage on tiny monitor screens," said Boston Boston magazine. It fell to Paul to warm up the audience by talking about Julia and warning them, "Whatever you do, please don't laugh." Keeping silent was a challenge, whether Julia was stuffing a pipe between the teeth of a big white fish or carrying a collapsing souffle from the oven to the table. At one point, when the blender kept spitting out food particles until it groaned and sputtered, Julia feigned concern and said to the machine, "Now, are you all right?" As Alyne Model, a local journalist, noted: magazine. It fell to Paul to warm up the audience by talking about Julia and warning them, "Whatever you do, please don't laugh." Keeping silent was a challenge, whether Julia was stuffing a pipe between the teeth of a big white fish or carrying a collapsing souffle from the oven to the table. At one point, when the blender kept spitting out food particles until it groaned and sputtered, Julia feigned concern and said to the machine, "Now, are you all right?" As Alyne Model, a local journalist, noted: Not since the late Gracie Allen has television seen such a Mrs. Malaprop hold court. Hers is a kind of cameo theatre of the absurd ("what a wonderful little imprension, I mean invention, the garlic press is") that is all the more endearing because unlike the Burns and Allen Show, these these minor minor bon mots bon mots are totally unrehea.r.s.ed. "I don't think we are totally unrehea.r.s.ed. "I don't think we could could rehea.r.s.e them if we wanted to," confides one station executive. rehea.r.s.e them if we wanted to," confides one station executive.

Julia believed that her audience was among the middle cla.s.s who shopped at the local A&P, where she herself shopped. Though Safeway, Sperry & Hutchinson, and Hills Bros. Coffee subsidized The French Chef The French Chef, Julia made no endors.e.m.e.nts and frankly criticized any product she found wanting. The audience trusted her and wrote her with questions and corrections, which she took seriously. Some were shocked at her "wine drinking," but embraced her as America's cook nonetheless. "Julia Child is the Chuck Berry of haute cuisine," haute cuisine," said one rock music promoter, "the One Who Started It All, She Who Cooked with Gas." The mountain of letters was so overwhelming she sought help from volunteers. Until 1981 she kept typed lists of corrections for each book, often changing a word that confused a reader. said one rock music promoter, "the One Who Started It All, She Who Cooked with Gas." The mountain of letters was so overwhelming she sought help from volunteers. Until 1981 she kept typed lists of corrections for each book, often changing a word that confused a reader.

In part to answer the requests of the watchers, she planned to publish a paperback book of recipes from the television series. She conceived the idea after talking to Beard in 1965, thinking (she informed Simca) that she could "just ... send [Bill Koshland] the mimeo'd recipes (I hope)." By July of the next year she concluded that they were "pretty bad" one-page recipes that needed to be two pages. The 1967 contract was for an advance of $25,000 on a book ent.i.tled The French Chef Cookbook The French Chef Cookbook (1968), which would include recipes from her 119 black-and-white programs. The first fourteen, which no longer existed, had been redone in the series. She dedicated the book to WGBH and her crew of twenty-four and signed over 2.5 percent of the royalties to the station and to Ruth Lockwood. Half the recipes were taken, but slightly altered (usually simplified for television), from (1968), which would include recipes from her 119 black-and-white programs. The first fourteen, which no longer existed, had been redone in the series. She dedicated the book to WGBH and her crew of twenty-four and signed over 2.5 percent of the royalties to the station and to Ruth Lockwood. Half the recipes were taken, but slightly altered (usually simplified for television), from Mastering the Art of French Cooking Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Her Reine de Saba chocolate cake (#100), for example, added a pinch of cream of tartar and another tablespoon of sugar. According to her editor, there were no complaints about the duplications.

During 1967 and 1968 her programs were rerun, though she confided to Simca that she feared their large royalty checks might grow smaller. However, the appearance of the paperback edition of the recipes, together with the reruns on television, kept up the interest in their Mastering Mastering book. Julia turned to their new volume and to eight years of magazines with recipes yet to be clipped. She maintained her files in order to trace the origins of recipes as well as to get ideas and test alternative ingredients. book. Julia turned to their new volume and to eight years of magazines with recipes yet to be clipped. She maintained her files in order to trace the origins of recipes as well as to get ideas and test alternative ingredients.

The Julia cult, people within the industry called it. The ingredients that brought her to national prominence included the rise of educational television (to 54 million households), her unpretentious personality, her natural comic timing, her encyclopedic knowledge, and very hard work, to say nothing of Paul's organizational skills. She was outdrawing William F. Buckley, Jr.'s political forum, and bon appet.i.t bon appet.i.t, her signature sign-off, was now a familiar salute in restaurants and homes across the country.

NOT PRINCE CONSORT:.

"WE ARE A TEAM"

"'Julia Child' ... is actually a husband and wife team," wrote Paul Levy, who visited them in Provence. Numerous friends agree: "He was her manager on the road. They were true partners" (Debby and Fisher Howe). "He was a man one would instinctively trust" (Lyne Few). "He was always there ... supportive and not obtrusive" (John Moore). "There was an atmosphere of reason, good sense, and endless affection between them" (Sally Bicknell Miall). Peter Davison admired their partnership and the manner in which they "treat life with a healthy irreverence." Paul made a strong impression on her professional world. One news reporter said, "He sounds like [the actor] George Sanders, but claims his accent is Boston." He said of himself, "I'm part of the iceberg that doesn't show."

Accompanying the recipes and brief essays sent to food editors at newspapers around the country were photographs of the dish or of Julia herself preparing the dish for the week's program. Paul spent decades serving as her official photographer. In addition he had an exhibition of his own work during the summer of 1966 in Wisca.s.set, Maine, as he had in Bonn and New Haven, and as he would later in Boston, much to Julia's proud delight. His photographs would also appear in Yale Alumni Magazine, Middlebury College Bulletin, Vogue, Foreign Service Journal Yale Alumni Magazine, Middlebury College Bulletin, Vogue, Foreign Service Journal, and Holiday Holiday.

His artistic skills were silently visible in many places, such as in the final (sixth) decorated cold salmon that was brought to the table at the end of one of Julia's television programs. He set the table and coordinated the color scheme for every important dinner, including decorating the suckling pig in Maine, surrounding the platter with boughs and putting daisies in the eyes. "There would be no French Chef without him, that's for sure," she informed Simca.

He also put his USIS exhibit skills to use when Julia went on the road to present demonstrations. The first major effort had been for the San Francisco Museum of Art benefit in March 1965 (the second was in Providence in May). Paul designed the set in the Ghirardelli chocolate factory, where Julia cooked for a week. The plans were as elaborate as for a military invasion, with floor plans, equipment and produce, training a.s.sistants, and timelines. Ruth Lockwood did the setups. Rosie Manell (who now lived near San Francisco) did some of the preparation, such as peeling the asparagus. When she had trouble flambeing, a local restaurant maitre d'hotel showed her his flamer filled with alcohol paste. ("Learn something new just about every day, as old Bugnard used to say!" Julia informed Simca.) Julia preceded the events with press conferences and small society lunches in various homes, and Paul was in charge of all their travel arrangements.

Wendy Morison Beck, echoing most of their friends, suggested that "he was the temperamental one in that relationship." But "I liked the no-nonsense way that she handled him," Beck said in 1996. A few of Julia's acquaintances called him "rude" or "in the way" or "harsh" in his criticism of Julia, but they were few and probably the feeling was mutual. Paul did not pander to those he did not like, and he could be strident. But for Julia he would do anything helpful-he called it "keeping the Julia-banner flapping." He sh.e.l.led peas for a later appearance on Good Morning America Good Morning America. During a women's club demonstration in a Pasadena theater, when there was no water and they had to have clean dishes for a second demonstration, Paul took the dishes into the women's rest room backstage and, using the little soaps on the side of the sink, washed every dish and pan. "I don't care what it is," he said, "I will do it."

He was her manager and photographer. They always shopped together. She cooked, he designed their kitchen and worked out schedules (with the precision he had used for Lord Mountbatten and General Wedemeyer), arranged the table for guests, and kept his eye on the clock during her programs. Occasionally he answered the fan mail (in verse). Together they planned the t.i.tles for her cooking programs and he helped her index the first volume of Mastering Mastering. "We did everything together until the end," said Julia. "I was at my desk and he was in his studio. That is why you get married, as far as I am concerned. The main thing about Paul and me is that we were always together so that he could carry on his work and I could carry on mine. We got along very well. And except for a few incidents, we liked the same people." They "moved as a unit, never more than a floor away from each other," adds Phila Cousins.

"Each time that I talked to Paul," said Martha Culbertson of the Fallbrook Winery in 1995, "somewhere in the conversation he would make a fist with each hand, put the knuckles of his two hands together so that they fit perfectly and would say, 'When I met Julia, that's when everything started to happen.' It was as if his life didn't really begin until he met her."

Paul also organized and carried what her colleagues called her "magic bag" or "Julia's black bag." She went everywhere with it. It contained an ap.r.o.n, an overblouse, pocketknives, heavy pans, plates, straining spoons, serving spoons, a plate to offer the host a taste of the food, and every other necessity for performing on the road.

However, it was not for carrying Julia's black bag that Paul underwent a double hernia operation in the fall of 1966 soon after they celebrated their twentieth wedding anniversary. Contrary to George Meredith's dictum: "Kissing don't last, cookery do!" Julia and Paul's love affair thrived. Theirs was a thoroughly modern marriage of pa.s.sion and professional partnership. When they were apart, which was seldom, he wrote, "The whole house creaks and echoes with loneliness" and "Life is like unsalted food" without her.

Paul's ambition to publish his lengthy letter-diary, an ambition stirred by the publication of Charlie's Maine memoir, Roots in the Rock Roots in the Rock, was discouraged by Peter Davison, Charlie's editor at the Atlantic Monthly Press. Julia's secretary typed the letters, but he feared he had given Wendy Beck too much to read. She wanted more about Julia. The plan was dropped. Davison says, "In these years Paul was increasingly becoming Julia's amanuensis, publicist, adviser, and alter ego. She in her turn nurtured his own creative juices and impulses. They were a wonderfully interactive couple, but they were able to speak briskly to one another when so inclined."

In 1967 and 1968, while Julia concentrated on working with Simca on their second volume of Mastering the Art of French Cooking Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Paul's role was to photograph her completed dishes as well as her techniques. He also helped with the interviews with the press, which ate up days of their lives. And, perhaps unknown to most people other than Simca, he also began baking French bread while Julia was experimenting with bread recipes. He loved the scientific aspect of the testing, and he told his brother that making bread was as natural and joyful as making babies.

M. F. K. FISHER, MICHAEL FIELD, F. K. FISHER, MICHAEL FIELD,.

AND TIME-LIFE.

Among the growing group of cookbook writers, television cooks, and cooking teachers there was some emerging rivalry, though the letters between Julia and James Beard and Mary Frances Fisher do not reveal any att.i.tude of compet.i.tiveness. Michael Field, by contrast, probably typifies the awareness of what Clark called "too many rivals."

A former concert pianist, Michael Field ran a cooking school in New York City and was publishing articles in periodicals. He was ambitious and involved (for $25,000 a year and over his head) in editing a book on French provincial cooking for a new (lavishly photographed) series of Time-Life books, "Foods of the World." He rented La Pitchoune in order to research his volume on country cooking (The Cooking of Provincial France (The Cooking of Provincial France, the first of his eighteen books). Julia was being paid for "consulting"-though she remembered that he never took any advice-and M. F. K. Fisher (Mary Frances) was being paid for writing an introduction (she was billed as author). Julia counseled Field not to call the book "Provincial" cooking but "French Cuisine Bourgeoise," a piece of advice that would have saved him some criticism down the road.

Mary Frances Fisher, four years older than Julia, was a writer, poet, and memoirist of great style and literary merit (John Updike called her "a poet of the appet.i.tes"). Once called "the American Colette," she was credited with carrying on "the tradition of Brillat-Savarin by doc.u.menting tales of feasts ancient and modern." She translated his Physiology of Taste Physiology of Taste and did as much for eating as Julia did for cooking. Mary Frances was a prolific writer, though her books sell better today than when she was trying to support herself and her two daughters (she was thrice married). She took the job with Time-Life in good faith. and did as much for eating as Julia did for cooking. Mary Frances was a prolific writer, though her books sell better today than when she was trying to support herself and her two daughters (she was thrice married). She took the job with Time-Life in good faith.

Thus it was that Mary Frances met Julia and, as their letters of 1966 reveal, became what Mary Frances called "so suddenly and firmly a friend." (Julia at first thought her too "self-absorbed," she told Field, and "didn't warm to her," she told Simca.) It was not until Frances began writing to Julia while staying with the Fields at La Pitchoune that Julia warmed to her and invited her to come by Cambridge on her way home so they could drive to her daughter's home in Kennebunkport, Maine, when they took their vacation at the Childs' cabin. In Cambridge before the drive, Fisher immediately responded to Paul's photographs of Provence: his camera "saw what I have seen, as none ever has." In 1967 she asked him to collaborate with her on a book about Provence, with her words and his photographs (nothing came of the plan). Letters between the two women express Fisher's admiration for Julia's "use [of] other senses than merely looking and tasting [in her writing] ... you often mention the Sound Sound of good cooking." She believed of good cooking." She believed Mastering Mastering achieved "cla.s.sic importance." achieved "cla.s.sic importance."

Fisher remembered (in an unpublished letter of September 9, 1982, to Julia) flying back from France to Logan Airport in Boston to meet Julia for the first time in 1966: "And there you were, standing at the bleak airport gate like a familiar warm beacon ... old tennis shoes, a soft cotton shirtmaker ... tall boarding-school teenager from Pasadena! We'd met before, not in this life but somewhere somewhere. I went happily along with you, and felt home again. And I still do ... Plasca.s.sier, Nice, Glen Ellen, Ma.r.s.eilles."

They shared childhood California living (though Fisher was born in Michigan, her family moved to Whittier the year Julia was born), an enchantment with France, a love of cats, and hunger. "Like most other humans, I am hungry," she wrote in The Gastronomical Me The Gastronomical Me (1943). Both had interests beyond food, though Fisher's ran toward the philosophical; when she wrote about security, pleasure, appet.i.te, decay, and memory, she always got around to food, gently folding recipes into her narrative. She shared Julia's wit and flirtatiousness, but Fisher was more vain in what Molly O'Neill called her "penciled Betty Grable brows" and glamorous dust-jacket photographs. Mimi Sheraton, who admired her, called her wily, "a tough cookie;" Barbara Kafka saw in her "a great beauty," who, "like Julia, had a complete career." Both were intellectuals ("our two intellectuals," says Anne Willan), and their difference is implied in motivations behind their differing answers to a food journalist's question, "What is your favorite junk food?": Julia answered, "Pepperidge Farm's fish crackers;" Mary Frances, "Iranian caviar." (1943). Both had interests beyond food, though Fisher's ran toward the philosophical; when she wrote about security, pleasure, appet.i.te, decay, and memory, she always got around to food, gently folding recipes into her narrative. She shared Julia's wit and flirtatiousness, but Fisher was more vain in what Molly O'Neill called her "penciled Betty Grable brows" and glamorous dust-jacket photographs. Mimi Sheraton, who admired her, called her wily, "a tough cookie;" Barbara Kafka saw in her "a great beauty," who, "like Julia, had a complete career." Both were intellectuals ("our two intellectuals," says Anne Willan), and their difference is implied in motivations behind their differing answers to a food journalist's question, "What is your favorite junk food?": Julia answered, "Pepperidge Farm's fish crackers;" Mary Frances, "Iranian caviar."

Fisher wrote to Julia: "I saw you once on TV and thought you were exactly exactly right ... a quiet but exciting breeze clearing the kitchen murk." It was a program about potatoes Anna, she remembered. Later: "People are starved for the synthesis in you of breeding, maturity, youthfulness, charm, education, subtlety, honesty ... and you know that I don't speak here of naive young housewives, but of mean cynical old English professors, and (last Sat.u.r.day) a group of about eight teenagers near Napa who breed their own horses, work their way through school, dance and drive wildly, and watch Julia Child without fail every Thursday night." right ... a quiet but exciting breeze clearing the kitchen murk." It was a program about potatoes Anna, she remembered. Later: "People are starved for the synthesis in you of breeding, maturity, youthfulness, charm, education, subtlety, honesty ... and you know that I don't speak here of naive young housewives, but of mean cynical old English professors, and (last Sat.u.r.day) a group of about eight teenagers near Napa who breed their own horses, work their way through school, dance and drive wildly, and watch Julia Child without fail every Thursday night."

When James Beard suggested to Fisher that they meet the following Easter in New York and include Julia and Paul, thus making it "The Big Four!" Mary Frances informed Julia modestly, "He was being polite about me, for I am not in any way in any way in your cla.s.s, except perhaps now and then with a snippet of Deathless Prose ..." (February 24, 1967). Beard did not include Craig Claiborne, who, Julia believed, was "really in the 'business' of food." When she dined with Claiborne in July 1966, he told her that "he turns all his material over to an editor to put his books together and he doesn't even proofread anything or make an index." Julia relayed all this to Simca in amazement and evident disapproval. Her feelings about Claiborne, whom "we do not warm up to very much," she shared only privately with Simca, for he had given them their first great review. Publicly and privately she defended him and gave him credit for being responsible for making restaurant reviewing professional. in your cla.s.s, except perhaps now and then with a snippet of Deathless Prose ..." (February 24, 1967). Beard did not include Craig Claiborne, who, Julia believed, was "really in the 'business' of food." When she dined with Claiborne in July 1966, he told her that "he turns all his material over to an editor to put his books together and he doesn't even proofread anything or make an index." Julia relayed all this to Simca in amazement and evident disapproval. Her feelings about Claiborne, whom "we do not warm up to very much," she shared only privately with Simca, for he had given them their first great review. Publicly and privately she defended him and gave him credit for being responsible for making restaurant reviewing professional.

Slowly and discreetly Julia and Mary Frances shared their belief that Field, whom they liked, was not the man to edit the book on French cooking in the provinces. Fisher reported he was a high-strung man isolated in the countryside with no knowledge of the language, had a "cooking block," "snacked" from a virtually empty refrigerator, and dined out daily. "Michael is the glamour boy around New York at the moment," said Julia, "a dabbler, a charmer, a word-monger, a b.u.t.terfly, and ambitious." She and Fisher both preferred the dedication, calm, and knowledge of Beard (they "are not in the same cla.s.s," Fisher concurred). Though Fisher did not meet Beard until April 1967, Julia pointed out that he was "dear and generous" and "has allowed himself to be used" by a greedy agent of commercial interests. As she would do with any dear friend, Julia explained Beard's weaknesses (his commercialism) as someone else's fault.

She and Mary Frances had strong reservations about the entire Time-Life series, from which Fisher tried to resign when they began rewriting her words. Though Julia did not like her friend's halfhearted introduction either, she referred to the project in letters to Mary Frances as "this venture about which I cannot but have misgiving tremors." She told Simca she (regretfully) got involved because she thought she "should do something to be more in the swim." But finally, less for the money (this gravy train was rich) than for "poor Michael," they stayed aboard. Later she referred to him as a "front man"-a "Darling, I'm so busy" man. Julia limited her reading and consultation on photographs in New York to ten days and agreed to adapt two cake recipes from Madame Saint-Ange for his book. The best thing that came out of their misadventures with Time-Life, Julia and Mary Frances agreed, was meeting each other.

Julia saw the first Time-Life recipes in November 1966 and thought them "AWFUL ... a hodge-podge of copying," incompetent and incomprehensible, she told Simca. Many of the recipes were poorly written copies from Mastering the Art of French Cooking Mastering the Art of French Cooking. (But they were "stuck with" the theft because she agreed to be a consultant.) By February 1967 they were correcting early proofs, Mary Frances in Glen Ellen, California, and Julia in La Pitchoune, both seriously worried about the errors, of which Paul declared there were "an inordinate number." (Julia liked her friend's introduction-"she writes beautifully and sensually about food"-but it romanticized a France that once was.) Field, she told Simca, "is a real fumiste fumiste, but he certainly is a fine talker!" Buried in a letter to Avis is Julia's motive for getting involved: "Takes a lot of time, and has to be done carefully, but I am so grateful for that Time Time article it is the least I can do." A month later she conjectured to her sister-in-law Freddie that she wondered if she would have been given the cover of article it is the least I can do." A month later she conjectured to her sister-in-law Freddie that she wondered if she would have been given the cover of Time Time had she not agreed to help Field. had she not agreed to help Field.

The fears about Michael and his book on provincial French cooking were realized when the Time-Life book appeared later. Craig Claiborne attacked the many fake French recipes and called Michael Field "a former concert pianist who might be excused perhaps on the grounds that he never played in the provinces." Time-Life imprudently planned a translation into French, asking Robert J. Courtine, who had just edited the 1967 French edition of Nouveau Larousse Gastronomique Nouveau Larousse Gastronomique, to write the introduction. (Several years later, when it appeared, Courtine mocked the mistakes in the book, and the reputations of Julia and Mary Frances-and Elizabeth David, who contributed some research-were besmirched by their a.s.sociation with the book.) Several typed recipes for Michael's book, recently found in Simca's Bramafam attic, contain comments in Julia's handwriting ("but not French, alas," she writes beside the mention of soy sauce in a chicken recipe). These doc.u.ments and Julia's correspondence with Mary Frances and Simca reveal their early suspicions about the volume. Indeed, when what she called Claiborne's "blast" appeared in the New York Times New York Times (on the very day of Field's book-launching party), Julia wrote to Simca, "I think he's right!" (on the very day of Field's book-launching party), Julia wrote to Simca, "I think he's right!"

Julia learned another important lesson when she refused to write an introduction to an American "adaptation" of Pellaprat's cla.s.sic L'Art Culinaire Moderne L'Art Culinaire Moderne without seeing the galleys first. Field accepted the job, and Julia later judged the adaptation a "travesty." It is "a good lesson to learn," she told Simca, "he got $1,000 for it, but at what cost!" Thereafter, with a couple of rare exceptions, she gave no book endors.e.m.e.nts. without seeing the galleys first. Field accepted the job, and Julia later judged the adaptation a "travesty." It is "a good lesson to learn," she told Simca, "he got $1,000 for it, but at what cost!" Thereafter, with a couple of rare exceptions, she gave no book endors.e.m.e.nts.

While the leaders of the American food world worshipped at the Child-Beck culinary shrine in Provence in the summer months, Julia and Paul chose to live there in the winter. For the next three winters, she and Simca tested and compiled their second volume. Julia wanted to be the best teacher and writer she could be, yet her respect for technique and productivity was always in the service of congeniality.

The tricolor French flag flew from the front door in Cambridge when thirty guests arrived for a Bastille Day dinner on July 14, 1966. The hot weather cooled down enough for the guests to linger over drinks in the garden, then to admire the food arranged in the dining room. Julia cooked several salmon in a large wash boiler so they appeared "lively," curved in the Chinese manner as if swimming upstream. Paul decorated the cold salmon with green mayonnaise. Julia kept it simple with a large salad of crudites, a cuc.u.mber salad with fresh dill and watercress, and, for dessert, fresh fruits around pineapple ice, and almond madeleines. Jane Howard and photographer Lee Lockwood (Ruth's son) of Life Life magazine were there to record the festivities for an article they were writing. Julia wrote Simca with a detailed a.n.a.lysis of the food and cost ($6.50 per person, including the serving women, bartender, and cleaning woman). "No wonder restaurants are so expensive!" magazine were there to record the festivities for an article they were writing. Julia wrote Simca with a detailed a.n.a.lysis of the food and cost ($6.50 per person, including the serving women, bartender, and cleaning woman). "No wonder restaurants are so expensive!"

Christmas dinner in Provence began at ten in the evening with veloute of onions, mushrooms, and red pepper, followed by goose stuffed with chestnuts and pork sausage, chestnut puree, cheese and fruit, and Moulin a Vent. Paul opened champagne for the buche de Noel buche de Noel. The Childs, the Fischbachers, and Avis DeVoto touched gla.s.ses for le carillon de l'amitie le carillon de l'amitie, the bell of friendship, holding them by the stem both for clarity of sound and to keep the wine from heating.

The cast for New Year's Eve (le reveillon) (le reveillon) at La Pitchoune included not only Avis DeVoto, Simca and Jean, but also Smithie Helen Kirkpatrick Milbank and her husband. Helen peeled chestnuts with Avis; Paul and Robbins Milbank opened Belons and Bouzigue oysters; Julia prepared two foie gras marinated with fresh truffles in port and cognac (one in at La Pitchoune included not only Avis DeVoto, Simca and Jean, but also Smithie Helen Kirkpatrick Milbank and her husband. Helen peeled chestnuts with Avis; Paul and Robbins Milbank opened Belons and Bouzigue oysters; Julia prepared two foie gras marinated with fresh truffles in port and cognac (one in perigourdine perigourdine style, the other packed in a pig's caul, style, the other packed in a pig's caul, a l'alsacienne) a l'alsacienne). Pouilly-Fume washed down the oysters. While sipping the 1872 Madeira and a Meursault with their foie gras, they discussed their preferences in the cooking methods for foie gras. Dessert: charlotte aux poires charlotte aux poires with with marrons glaces marrons glaces, a hot strawberry sauce laced with kirsch, accompanied by Pommery Brut champagne.

During the previous days of foie gras preparation, Avis took careful notes, concluding that watching Julia and Simca work together was inspiring: "This is certainly one of the great collaborations in history. They are absolutely necessary to each other and it is a happy miracle that they met.... It is the combination combination which makes their work so revolutionary, and for my money they are benefactors of the human race." Words that could have applied as well to the "team" of Paul and Julia Child. which makes their work so revolutionary, and for my money they are benefactors of the human race." Words that could have applied as well to the "team" of Paul and Julia Child.

Chapter 19.

THE M MEDIA A ARE THE M MESSAGE.

(1967 1968) "The dining-room is a theater ...

the table is the stage."

CHATALLON-PLESSIS.

PAUL ROLLED UP ten copies of the ten copies of the Boston Globe Boston Globe and wound sticky masking tape around the bundle while Julia grabbed a bowl and dumped in the contents of an entire can of Crisco. The photographers were waiting as Paul sawed off on the slant both ends of his newspaper roll. Julia had already added some powdered sugar and cocoa to her mix when she took the and wound sticky masking tape around the bundle while Julia grabbed a bowl and dumped in the contents of an entire can of Crisco. The photographers were waiting as Paul sawed off on the slant both ends of his newspaper roll. Julia had already added some powdered sugar and cocoa to her mix when she took the Globe Globe roll from her husband's hands. With a spatula she slathered the brown lard all over the paper roll and decorated her "Yule log" or roll from her husband's hands. With a spatula she slathered the brown lard all over the paper roll and decorated her "Yule log" or buche de Noel buche de Noel, running her knife in irregular lines along the lardy ma.s.s to simulate the bark of a tree. The only thing edible on the "cake" was the fake mushrooms, which were made from meringue.

PHOTO FAKERY AND.

THE COMMERCIAL FOOD WORLD.

Inside the oven, the temperature was a cool 57 degrees; outside the August sun was baking their seventy-eight-year-old Cambridge house. The p