My Life in France, Julia Child with Alex Prud'homme

The movie Julie & Julia brought Julia Child back into mainstream consciousness, (although I can still find her on my PBS station at off-hours). That’s a good thing. A friend had the movie tie-in edition of Child’s memoir, My Life in France, which she graciously lent to me. I had just watched the movie (really liked the Julia part; the Julie part needed more food shots—who cares about the lobster? I want to see the Lobster Newburg!). I was interested to know more. That often happens to me. I watch the movie and want to know the real story. I was only a few pages into the book when my stomach started to rumble and I felt like pouring myself a glass of French wine.  That feeling never really left me for the remainder of the book.

Julia Child’s tone is casual, but her approach to food is anything but. Listening to her awakening to food—good food prepared well—and accompanying wine is a delight. Her voice is strong and clear, and her enthusiasm, knowledge, and commonsense burst from every page. As a bonus, most pages are full of accounts of delicious food and memorable meals. My favorite is the description of her husband Paul’s fiftieth birthday dinner:

amuse-gueules au fromage (hot pâtes feuilletées topped with cheese, served in the living room with Krug champagne); rissolettes de foie gras Carisse; filet de boeuf Matigno (served with a nearly perfect Bordeaux, Château Chauvin 1929); les fromages (Camembert, Brie de Melun, Époisses, Roquefort, Chèvre); fruits; rafraîchis; gâteau de demi~siècle; café, liqueurs, hundred-year-old Cognac; Havana cigars and Turkish cigarettes.

 I don’t speak French and don’t know exactly what it all means, but I know enough for my mouth to water. I have no problem understanding how Julia and Paul ended up with digestive problems, living on a diet like that. I’m also inspired to copy the framework of this menu for my husband’s fiftieth birthday dinner celebration. And then he can copy it for mine. Many years from now.

There was one jarring note in My Life in France for me. Child’s life took her in a different direction from her parents, and those differing experiences showed her a different view of the world and led to different opinions, beliefs, and politics. That’s fine. However, I sensed rejection not just of her parents’ politics but of them too. I found that sad and disappointing. These references, which are sprinkled through the book, are jarring in their shift of attitude but are not numerous enough to spoil the appetizing journey Julia Child leads.

Child was committed to creating good food and, through her cookbooks, the ability to create it again and again. Her kitchen was her laboratory, and she was committed to excellence. It is said that you shouldn’t wait for a special occasion to open a good bottle of wine because when you open a good bottle of wine, the occasion becomes special. Julia Child’s life and work show that this belief is just as appropriate when applied to food.