Jerome & Julia

As I recently wrote on my other, professionally-related blog (see the link for "Juicy Dish" at the left), my friend and I recently had the good fortune to catch an advance screening of the new movie Julie & Julia. The movie was a lot of fun, and a nice return to form for Nora Ephron, who has made some bummers since the success of Sleepless in Seattle and When Harry Met Sally, which she wrote and produced, but did not direct. It was a showcase for Meryl Streep, natch, but it was also a worthy bio of Julia Child. I reviewed the excellent short bio of her by Laura Shapiro, in the Penguin Lives series, and the movie honors Child’s long, painstaking route to professional success, which for her was very personal, as she and her husband never had children. The setbacks to the writing and publication of that first cookbook were considerable, but Julia never gave up, and that persistence remains a lesson for me. For all of us.

As I stood in line at the candy counter before the screening, I was thinking about the fact that I actually waited on Julia Child back in the late Nineites. This was at Gotham Bar and Grill in New York City. How lucky I feel to have had that opportunity! I’ve waited on a lot of famous (and infamous) people over the years, but Child was and remains a true global and American icon. Here’s what I wrote on the other blog:

“She and the chef sat with a large party at Table 45, the round table in the center of the dining room. Julia was dressed in her trademark, no-nonsense matron francaise mode. After Champagne was poured and amuses-bouche of silken Goat Cheese Ravioli with Cremini Mushrooms and Parmesan had been delivered and devoured, Julia turned to the chef and said in her sing-song, plummy voice, "Now, what shall we eat?" Alfred, who I still greatly admire and respect, seemed at a loss for words, but Julia opened the menu and said, "Now, this sound delicious...Pheasant and Foie Gras Terrine..." I left them to discuss the strategy for ordering, and everyone else at the table wanted to know what Julia and Alfred were having before they ordered..."

In the very brief, professional context of my encounter with Julia Child, I was reminded of another formidable grande dame, one who was an even greater influence on me and, most importantly, on my cooking. Diana Trilling had very similar qualities--she had a similar voice, a similar way of dress, a similar way of finding amusement in things. Whenever I shop or cook, I hear Diana's voice saying, "Smaller. Find a canteloupe that's smaller...that's cooking too quickly, I can tell by the sound..." More than anything else, I hear her saying, "Did you add salt?" Or, "Did you add enough salt?" As I would have learned from Julia Child had I the chance, I learned to taste what I was cooking throughout the process, and to pay attention to what I was doing as I was doing, not just think about the results. A good lesson for cooking. A good lesson for life.