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My Life in France (Hardcover)
by Julia Child
| Category:
Cookbook, Original books |
| Market price: ¥ 268.00
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¥ 248.00
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| MSL Pointer Review:
"The pleasures of the table, and of life, are infinite - toujours bon appetit!" This is a book not only about food but also about life - a wise life, a life of beauty, art and invention, as well as a passion for travel and the tastes of other cultures. |
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Author: Julia Child
Publisher: Knopf
Pub. in: April, 2006
ISBN: 1400043468
Pages: 336
Measurements: 9.3 x 6.5 x 1.2 inches
Origin of product: USA
Order code: BA00954
Other information: ISBN-13: 9781400043460
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- Awards & Credential -
The author is a winner of the Peabody Award in 1965 and an Emmy in 1966, and this book ranks the #888 in Books out of millions on Amazon.com as of February 25, 2007. |
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- MSL Picks -
The new book about Julia Child, My Life in France, is a fresh and wonderfully pleasing account of Julia's life in France after World War II. Arriving in 1948 with her devoted husband, Paul, Julia relates that she spoke no French, had never been to Europe and knew next to nothing about cooking. When she left several years later, this remarkable woman had turned French cooking on its ears.
Most Americans know of Julia Child via the parodies of her cooking show. Of her 11 books, none was a memoir. But she kept scribbles and letters, and at the end of her life, she began to shape this book with her grandnephew. Like almost everything she touched, My Life in France is a triumph - insightful, poetic, deadly accurate about people, and, above all, tasty. To read it is to breathe French air.
My Life in France, a memoir by Julia Child, assisted by grand-nephew Alex Prud'homme is, as the title suggests, nowhere near a complete autobiography, yet it is a more than welcome look at a very important part of the life of one of America's most important culinary writers of this or any other time. According to co-author Prud'homme's introduction, the work is based heavily on the letters between Julia and Paul Child to their family members in the US, primarily Paul's twin brother, Charlie and his wife. This is also evident from the text where, here and there, we find frequent references to letters, especially those between Paul and Charlie. Most of the remaining material is purely from Madame Child's recollections. True to the title of the book, it begins in November 1948, as Julia and Paul arrive in La Harve, France in order that Paul may take up his position running the cultural exhibits for the USIS out of the American embassy in Paris. This means it covers none of Julia's earlier life, up to and including her service in World War II as a clerk in the Far East for the wartime OSS (precursor to the CIA) and her courtship with and marriage to Paul. The lion's share of the book covers these first years in Paris and the following posting to the Consulate in Marseilles as the public affairs officer (PAO). This is the period where Julia discovers the joys of French cooking, finds her calling as a culinary teacher in her dedication to becoming a good cook for her gourmand husband, and establishes her writing collaboration with Frenchwomen Beck and Louisette Bertholle. What may not be well known is the fact that Beck and Bertholle were working on a collection of French recipes for years before hooking up with Child, to whom they went in order to have someone adapt the volume to American tastes. On the face of it, one may think that Child hijacked the project and ideas of her co-authors, especially as the arrangement with Knopf was that all royalties were to be paid to Child, who would then distribute funds to her co-authors. But, this book and the earlier biography make it fairly clear that without Julia Child and her contacts that lead to the connection with Knopf, the book would never have been.
True to her salty, non-condescending personality, Julia Child admits complete ignorance at the beginning of her story, and it is her natural curiosity that leads her to collaborate with master chefs who have earned a rarefied expertise in their field. The eminently readable book details her meticulous preparation toward joining them in their ranks, including a painstaking apprenticeship at the Cordon Bleu and the creation of her own cooking school with life-long friends and unsung colleagues, "Simca" Beck and Louisette Bertholle.
One more interesting aspect of the narrative later in the book is the description of the great friendship between Child and the second member of the great American culinary troika, James Beard (The third was Craig Claiborne). Beard was often a great source of information for Child, as he had a great memory of tastes from his long career as a culinary writer and consultant. Paul's photographs deliver the country in delicious slivers. The passages at their home in the South of France lift off the page and surround you. You inhale lavender. You feel the breeze. In the distance is the smell of lamb cooking in herbs. There is laughter, and wit, and, most of all, blessed silence.
To read this book is to peer over her shoulder and learn with her. Take Scrambled eggs for instance. They are not whipped, just gently blended. Smear the pan with butter, add the eggs, salt and pepper, cook over a low flame. After about three minutes, the eggs will start to form a custard. Only then do you stir rapidly with a fork, sliding the pan on and off the burner. Pull the egg curds together - and, finally, add the butter, to "stop the cooking."
This is easily identified as a must read for all foodies, especially those who have not yet achieved an appreciation of Child's great contribution to American food writing.
- From quoting Jesse Kornbluth, B. Marold, and Lisa Clayton
Target readers:
Food lovers, housewives, professional cooks, or hotel and restaurant managers.
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Julia Child was born in Pasadena, California. She was graduated from Smith College and worked for the OSS during World War II in Ceylon and China, where she met Paul Child. After they married they lived in Paris, where she studied at the Cordon Bleu and taught cooking with Simone Beck and Louisette Bertholle, with whom she wrote the first volume of Mastering the Art of French Cooking (1961). In 1963, Boston’s WGBH launched The French Chef television series, which made her a national celebrity, earning her the Peabody Award in 1965 and an Emmy in 1966. Several public television shows and numerous cookbooks followed. She died in 2004.
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From the publisher
In her own words, here is the captivating story of Julia Child's years in France, where she fell in love with French food and found "her true calling."
From the moment the ship docked in Le Havre in the fall of 1948 and Julia watched the well-muscled stevedores unloading the cargo to the first perfectly soigné meal that she and her husband, Paul, savored in Rouen en route to Paris, where he was to work for the USIS, Julia had an awakening that changed her life. Soon this tall, outspoken gal from Pasadena, California, who didn't speak a word of French and knew nothing about the country, was steeped in the language, chatting with purveyors in the local markets, and enrolled in the Cordon Bleu.
After managing to get her degree despite the machinations of the disagreeable directrice of the school, Julia started teaching cooking classes herself, then teamed up with two fellow gourmettes, Simone Beck and Louisette Bertholle, to help them with a book they were trying to write on French cooking for Americans. Throwing herself heart and soul into making it a unique and thorough teaching book, only to suffer several rounds of painful rejection, is part of the behind-the-scenes drama that Julia reveals with her inimitable gusto and disarming honesty.
Filled with the beautiful black-and-white photographs that Paul loved to take when he was not battling bureaucrats, as well as family snapshots, this memoir is laced with wonderful stories about the French character, particularly in the world of food, and the way of life that Julia embraced so wholeheartedly. Above all, she reveals the kind of spirit and determination, the sheer love of cooking, and the drive to share that with her fellow Americans that made her the extraordinary success she became.
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Foreword
In August 2004, Julia Child and I sat in her small, lush garden in Montecito, California, talking about her life. She was thin and a bit stooped, but more vigorous than she'd been in weeks. We were in the midst of writing this book together. When I asked her what she remembered about Paris in the 1950s, she recalled that she had learned to cook everything from snails to wild boar at the Cordon Bleu; that marketing in France had taught her the value of "les human relations"; she lamented that in her day the American housewife had to juggle cooking the soup and boiling the diapers - adding, "if she mixed the two together, imagine what a lovely combination that would make!"
The idea for My Life in France had been gestating since 1969, when her husband, Paul, sifted through hundreds of letters that he and Julia had written his twin brother, Charles Child (my grandfather), from France in 1948–1954. Paul suggested creating a book from the letters about their favorite, formative years together. But for one reason or another, the book never got written. Paul died in 1994, aged ninety-two.
Yet Julia never gave up on the idea, and would often talk about her intention to write "the France book." She saw it, in part, as a tribute to her husband, the man who had swept her off to Paris in the first place.
I was a professional writer, and had long wanted to work on a collaborative project with Julia. But she was self-reliant, and for years had politely resisted the idea. In December 2003, she once again mentioned "the France book," in a wistful tone, and I again offered to assist her. She was ninety-one, and her health had been waxing and waning. This time she said, "All right, dearie, maybe we should work on it together."
My job was simply to help Julia tell her story, but it wasn't always easy. Though she was a natural performer, she was essentially a private person who didn’t like to reveal herself. We started slowly, began to work in sync, and eventually built a wonderfully productive routine. For a few days every month, I'd sit in her living room asking questions, reading from family letters, and listening to her stories. At first I taped our conversations, but when she began to poke my tape recorder with her long fingers, I realized it was distracting her, and took notes instead. The longer we talked about "little old France," the more she remembered, often with vivid intensity - "Ooh, those lovely roasted, buttery French chickens, they were so good and chickeny!"
Many of our best conversations took place over a meal, on a car ride, or during a visit to a farmers' market. Something would trigger a memory, and she'd suddenly tell me about how she learned to make baguettes in Paris, or bouillabaisse in Marseille, or how to survive a French dinner party - "Just speak very loudly and quickly, and state your position with utter conviction, as the French do, and you'll have a marvelous time!"
Almost all of the words in these pages are Julia's or Paul's. But this is not a scholarly work, and at times I have blended their voices. Julia encouraged this approach, pointing out that she and Paul often signed their letters "PJ" or "Pulia," as if they were two halves of one person. I wrote some of the exposition and transitions, and in so doing tried to emulate Julia's idiosyncratic word choices - "Plop!," "Yuck!," "Woe!," "Hooray!" Once I had gathered enough material, I would write up a vignette; she would avidly read it, correct my French, and add things as they occurred to her in small, rightward-slanting handwriting. She loved this process, and was an exacting editor. "This book energizes me!" she declared.
Julia and I shared a sense of humor, and appetite, and she thought I looked like Paul, which probably helped our collaboration. As for me, I was grateful for the chance to reconnect with her and to be part of such an interesting project. Some writers find that the more they learn about their co-authors the less they like them, but I had the opposite experience: the more I learned about Julia Child, the more I came to respect her. What impressed me most was how hard she worked, how devoted she was to the "rules" of la cuisine française while keeping herself open to creative exploration, and how determined she was to persevere in the face of setbacks. Julia never lost her sense of wonder and inquisitiveness. She was, and is, a great inspiration.
Another great inspiration has been our editor, Judith Jones, who worked with Julia for more than forty years. With patience and a deep understanding of our subject, she was indispensable in helping to shape this book. Judith's assistant, Ken Schneider, was also a great help.
On August 13, 2004 - just after our conversation in her garden, and only two days before her ninety-second birthday - Julia died of kidney failure in her sleep. Over the next year, I finished My Life in France, but every day wished I could call her up and ask her to clarify a story, or to share a bit of news, or just to talk. I miss her. But through her words in these pages, Julia’s voice remains as lively, wise, and encouraging as ever. As she would say, "We had such fun!"
Alex Prud'homme
August 2005
Introduction
This is a book about some of the things I have loved most in life: my husband, Paul Child; la belle France; and the many pleasures of cooking and eating. It is also something new for me. Rather than a collection of recipes, I've put together a series of linked autobiographical stories, mostly focused on the years 1948 through 1954, when we lived in Paris and Marseille, and also a few of our later adventures in Provence. Those early years in France were among the best of my life. They marked a crucial period of transformation in which I found my true calling, experienced an awakening of the senses, and had such fun that I hardly stopped moving long enough to catch my breath.
Before I moved to France, my life had not prepared me for what I would discover there. I was raised in a comfortable, WASPy, uppermiddle-class family in sunny and non-intellectual Pasadena, California. My father, John McWilliams, was a conservative businessman who managed family real-estate holdings; my mother, Carolyn, whom we called Caro, was a very warm and social person. But, like most of her peers, she didn’t spend much time in the kitchen. She occasionally sallied forth to whip up baking-powder biscuits, or a cheese dish, or finnan haddie, but she was not a cook. Nor was I.
As a girl I had zero interest in the stove. I've always had a healthy appetite, especially for the wonderful meat and the fresh produce of California, but I was never encouraged to cook and just didn't see the point in it. Our family had a series of hired cooks, and they’d produce heaping portions of typical American fare - fat roasted chicken with buttery mashed potatoes and creamed spinach; or well-marbled porterhouse steaks; or aged leg of lamb cooked medium gray - not pinky-red rare, as the French do - and always accompanied by brown gravy and green mint sauce. It was delicious but not refined food.
Paul, on the other hand, had been raised in Boston by a rather bohemian mother who had lived in Paris and was an excellent cook. He was a cultured man, ten years older than I was, and by the time we met, during World War II, he had already traveled the world. Paul was a natty dresser and spoke French beautifully, and he adored good food and wine. He knew about dishes like moules marinières and boeuf bourguignon and canard à l'orange - things that seemed hopelessly exotic to my untrained ear and tongue. I was lucky to marry Paul. He was a great inspiration, his enthusiasm about wine and food helped to shape my tastes, and his encouragement saw me through discouraging moments. I would never have had my career without Paul Child.
We'd first met in Ceylon (Sri Lanka) during the Second World War and were married in September 1946. In preparation for living with a new husband on a limited government income, I decided I'd better learn how to cook. Before our wedding, I took a bride-to-be's cooking course from two Englishwomen in Los Angeles, who taught me to make things like pancakes. But the first meal I ever cooked for Paul was a bit more ambitious: brains simmered in red wine! I'm not quite sure why I picked that particular dish, other than that it sounded exotic and would be a fun way to impress my new husband. I skimmed over the recipe, and figured it wouldn't be too hard to make. But the results, alas, were messy to look at and not very good to eat. In fact, the dinner was a disaster. Paul laughed it off, and we scrounged up something else that night. But deep down I was annoyed with myself, and I grew more determined than ever to learn how to cook well.
In our first year as young marrieds, we lived in Georgetown, in Washington, D.C., in a small white clapboard house on Olive Avenue. While Paul worked on mounting exhibits for the State Department, I worked as a file clerk. In the evening, I would approach the stove armed with lofty intentions, the Joy of Cooking or Gourmet magazine tucked under my arm, and little kitchen sense. My meals were satisfactory, but they took hours of laborious effort to produce. I'd usually plop something on the table by 10:00 p.m., have a few bites, and collapse into bed. Paul was unfailingly patient. But years later he'd admit to an interviewer: "Her first attempts were not altogether successful... I was brave because I wanted to marry Julia. I trust I did not betray my point of view." (He did not.)
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Joanne Jerrell (MSL quote), USA
<2007-02-25 00:00>
With every word I sensed I was there. I could smell the air, feel the cold and want a blanket. I lusted to be able to taste the foods she talked about. I laughed when she described her first attempts at food preparation. I loved that she was pragmatic and yet extravagant about cooking utinsels. Her husband was very encouraging of her endeavors. Together they shared a life and a love, but it was more, they shared a passion for travel and the tastes of other cultures. My mouth salivated as she toured the markets. Her French was horrible by her own admission but her genuine interest in the culture won out with shop owners. It is a delicious read.
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Ellie Reasoner (MSL quote), USA
<2007-02-25 00:00>
Julia Child's funny, bubbly, colorful and bright account of her 1940's life-changing stay in France (where her husband was a diplomat) is one of the most enjoyable and interesting books I've had the pleasure of reading. These stories of how Child discovered the culinary delights of France (long before she became America's most beloved television chef) are a lot of fun! Child's unusual gift for blending self-deprecation with appealing self-confidence has never been more finely tuned. This book is great as a biography, as an account of a nation during a time and place, as a tale of the refined culinary arts, and it even works as the sort of travelogue that evokes the locations being described. In the imagination the senses smell the baking bread Julia describes, we hear the running of those ancient rivers in the lush French countryside, and we can all-but taste the magnificent dishes about which she writes with such keen comprehension and reverence. We all miss Julia Child, but this reminder of her class and charm (as well as her devotion to French cooking) brings back her greatness. Easily a five-star book! |
T. Mylan (MSL quote), USA
<2007-02-25 00:00>
While I find most food writing, particularly autobiographies, tiring to the core this book warmed my jaded little heart.
It's hard not to love Julia Child, but when I got this book I was hardly expecting to come away from it not only satisfied with geeky details of her life but also inspired to explore food fearlessly.
The story never bogs down in sentimentality. The prose is tight and focused and the tone is so perfect you can almost hear Juilia's shrill voice recounting meals in Provence.
Few things I have read have made me want to not only cook but look at food as a philosophy of life.
I have come away from this book changed for the better and I think that is the best thing any author can hope for. |
Heather Ivester (MSL quote), USA
<2007-02-25 00:00>
This book completely caught me by surprise. I picked it up at the library because I saw a sprinkling of French phrases throughout and thought it might make an interesting read. I studied two years of French in college, lived near Paris for a month when I was 19, and dream of taking my children to France for a visit someday.
Never would I have expected this book to be so life-changing for me! My first shock was that Julia didn't know how to cook when she married Paul in her mid-30s! She arrived in France knowing nothing about French cuisine, summarizing her view from the ship with this: "I was a six-foot-two-inch, thirty-six-year-old, rather loud and unserious Californian. The sight of France in my porthole was like a giant question mark."
Her years in Paris represented an awakening for Julia, and I held onto her every word. How many of us also have a dream, yet we feel like we're too old to even get started? Julia discovered French cooking to be her life's passion, her raison d'etre, and she dreamed of taking the techniques she learned at Le Cordon Bleu home to America.
The heart of this book for me was "the Book," with a capital 'B,' which Julia co-authored with two French women, Simone Beck and Louisette Bertholle. The 700-page manuscript bounced around three different publishers before it finally settled under master editor, Judith Jones at Knopf. As a writer, I found her journey completely fascinating - especially the process of how the title came to be. How different this book would have been if it had retained the original boring title of "French Home Cooking." Editor Judith Jones is the genius behind the title, "Mastering the Art of French Cooking." C'est magnifique.
The book is a love story, highlighting Julia and Paul's happy marriage, as they lived in various cities in France, Germany, Norway, and finally the U.S. Paul's magnificent photos of French life add visual depth to this work. I also thought it was interesting that the book was written by her grand-nephew, who interviewed his great-aunt during her last years of life, piecing together decades of letters written by Julia and Paul to family members. What joy that must have brought her to see her story so eloquently written.
The book is laugh-out-loud funny at times, and I've become a lifelong Julia Child fan now. I must read her other books and watch "The French Chef" DVDs because I somehow missed the show when it was on PBS. (I guess I was too young.)
For anyone remotely interested in writing, publishing, cooking, or French life and food, this book is a must-read to add to your collection of favorite books. |
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