Appetite For Life_ The Biography Of Julia Child Part 19

The Fourth Annual AIWF Conference on Gastronomy, in Texas, on November 69, 1986, was the most extravagant to date and was sponsored by the Campbell Soup Company, Food and Wines From France, and Rosewood Hotels (the program insert listed seventy corporations and vineyards as "contributors"). The inst.i.tute flew in medical doctors, academicians, national journalists, food producers, editors, chefs, and winemakers. From France they flew in chefs Jean-Pierre Billoux, Jacques Cagna, and Gerard Besson, as well as Patricia Wells, Anne Willan, Rudolph Chelminski, and Richard Olney. It was a star-studded gathering with first-cla.s.s accommodations, intellectual stimulation, sumptuous meals, and a variety of wines, champagne, and stretch limousines.

The champagne and caviar conferences, planned by Trescher and Program Director Greg Drescher, may have reinforced the image of a "wine and cheese" society that the students and faculty at UCSB had complained about. Indeed, the conferences were worthy of F. Scott Fitzgerald's Jay Gatsby and in part a reflection of the frenzied trend-making and the conspicuous consumption of the 1980s. They drew civilian food and wine lovers, many of them wealthy, for the admission was expensive. These conferences were heavily underwritten and costly, but they dispensed enough mental and gustatory stimulation to sate any palate. Those who made frequent presentations at the conferences included England-based wine expert Hugh Johnson, the New York Times's New York Times's R. W. Apple, Jr., anthropologist Lionel Tiger, R. W. Apple, Jr., anthropologist Lionel Tiger, Esquire's Esquire's John Mariani, food historian William Woys Weaver, and Albert Sonnenfeld, a professor of French and comparative literature. John Mariani, food historian William Woys Weaver, and Albert Sonnenfeld, a professor of French and comparative literature.

The same tone of splendor, but without the corporate underwriting, existed at national headquarters. Hiring of staff and travel expenses were unrestrained, given the cost for administration and publications. The seeds of the problem lay at the founding: Child, Mondavi, and Graff (who in their own businesses always had business managers) hired Trescher, who was an outstanding fund-raiser and conference planner, but not strong on managing and budgeting an office. D. Crosby Ross, whom one founder called "the most profligate with his champagne and limousines," was now earning $125,000. Under Ross, who served as president in San Francisco, the debt reached $285,000. Under Dun Gifford, chair of the board of directors, the debt soared to $635,000. "They were all great at spending money," according to Richard Graff, "but no one could touch Dun Gifford for that. He had great ideas but tripled the deficit."

The Journal of Gastronomy Journal of Gastronomy was published quarterly at enormous cost. Dedicated to the theory and history of cuisine and initially edited by David Thomson, the journal was the most scholarly element of the organization. First published in the summer of 1984 and running about 125 pages each, its early issues featured essays by such nationally and internationally recognized scholars and artists as Roland Barthes, Alan Davidson (founder of the Oxford Symposia on Food History), M. F. K. Fisher, Jan Langone, Barbara Ketcham Wheaton, Raymond Sokolov, Joyce Carol Oates, and Harvey Levenstein. Topics ranged from "On the Esculent Fungi," "Paradise Lost: The Decline of the Apple and the American Agrarian Ideal," "Food in France After the Revolution," to "The Cooks of Concord." Artwork (Rene Magritte's was published quarterly at enormous cost. Dedicated to the theory and history of cuisine and initially edited by David Thomson, the journal was the most scholarly element of the organization. First published in the summer of 1984 and running about 125 pages each, its early issues featured essays by such nationally and internationally recognized scholars and artists as Roland Barthes, Alan Davidson (founder of the Oxford Symposia on Food History), M. F. K. Fisher, Jan Langone, Barbara Ketcham Wheaton, Raymond Sokolov, Joyce Carol Oates, and Harvey Levenstein. Topics ranged from "On the Esculent Fungi," "Paradise Lost: The Decline of the Apple and the American Agrarian Ideal," "Food in France After the Revolution," to "The Cooks of Concord." Artwork (Rene Magritte's L'Invention L'Invention Collective Collective opened the first volume) as well as photographs of the covers of antique culinary books were included. As Paul Levy wrote from London: "The rates of pay are ... appetizing. Foodie writers pa.s.sed the word around that for a long piece, opened the first volume) as well as photographs of the covers of antique culinary books were included. As Paul Levy wrote from London: "The rates of pay are ... appetizing. Foodie writers pa.s.sed the word around that for a long piece, Gastronomy Gastronomy pays the equivalent of 40 four-toque dinners." pays the equivalent of 40 four-toque dinners."

The Newsletter Newsletter, which d.i.c.k Graff had published as a four-page report to all the members, became an eight-page, and then early in 1987 a twelve-page AIWF monthly newsletter redesigned and edited by Robert Clark (who would author Beard's biography five years later). The February issue included articles by Ruth Reichl, then food editor of the Los Angeles Times Los Angeles Times and later of the and later of the New York Times New York Times, as well as pieces by Julia Child and culinary scholars Barbara Wheaton, Philip Hyman, and Mary Hyman. By 1988 it took on more news of the business of the organization.

After reading the May 1987 issue of the monthly newsletter, Julia wrote a letter to the editor (published in July) commenting on two articles that made it evident the AIWF was risking a fall into what she called "The We Happy Few Syndrome: Nothing produced for the ma.s.s market is worth considering by the cognoscenti, be it coffee, bread, vegetables, wine, or whatever." They must, she insisted, be just as concerned about the quality of canned and frozen produce as they are about truffles and foie gras. Coffee magnate Tim Castle, who wrote one of the articles, responded immediately to insist he was being grossly misinterpreted, his career hurt, and asking for an emendation. There is no indication that she responded.

Politics reared its ugly head when Bob Huttenback was charged with "embezzlement, insurance fraud, and tax evasion" at the university in the spring of 1987. Julia was as shocked and saddened as she was sure he was innocent and would be released. An ambitious district attorney, the New York Times's New York Times's purchase of the local paper, and a faculty that was out to get him were the explanations bandied about by his friends. In addition to his own political naivete (he did not even have a lawyer), his support of the AIWF center may have been involved. When the charge of using university money to renovate his private home (he failed to have the renovation written into his contract, as the last chancellor had) was published, much was made of a presumed $104,000 cost of his new kitchen (apparently a particular sore spot for the students). By July, he was indicted and forced to resign (he was convicted and sentenced to community service). Without him, the center seemed doomed. purchase of the local paper, and a faculty that was out to get him were the explanations bandied about by his friends. In addition to his own political naivete (he did not even have a lawyer), his support of the AIWF center may have been involved. When the charge of using university money to renovate his private home (he failed to have the renovation written into his contract, as the last chancellor had) was published, much was made of a presumed $104,000 cost of his new kitchen (apparently a particular sore spot for the students). By July, he was indicted and forced to resign (he was convicted and sentenced to community service). Without him, the center seemed doomed.

The next month, in Larry Wilson's "Julia Child's Crusade" in the Los Angeles Times Magazine Los Angeles Times Magazine, she is quoted staunchly defending Huttenback as the victim of a witch hunt. Her dream was still to have the AIWF center in Santa Barbara and to recruit 20,000 more members to the organization. The article also talks about her thoughts on another television series, in which she would visit the sources of food production (a frequent theme only partially fulfilled in the Dinner at Julia's Dinner at Julia's series), and AIWF plans to videotape great chefs in action for posterity (they taped Beard before his death). The most interesting revelations in the well-researched article deal with the real problems of the building plans of the AIWF: the Huttenback scandal; the resistance of students and faculty; Vice-Chancellor Michaelsen's statement that the university would probably "need that land in the future;" and an East Coast-West Coast schism in the leaders.h.i.+p of the AIWF. An Easterner called it a "sleepy, backwater California inst.i.tute, filled with deadwood and supported by rich ladies from Santa Barbara." Nancy Harmon Jenkins, the new editor of the series), and AIWF plans to videotape great chefs in action for posterity (they taped Beard before his death). The most interesting revelations in the well-researched article deal with the real problems of the building plans of the AIWF: the Huttenback scandal; the resistance of students and faculty; Vice-Chancellor Michaelsen's statement that the university would probably "need that land in the future;" and an East Coast-West Coast schism in the leaders.h.i.+p of the AIWF. An Easterner called it a "sleepy, backwater California inst.i.tute, filled with deadwood and supported by rich ladies from Santa Barbara." Nancy Harmon Jenkins, the new editor of the Journal Journal and a Boston area resident, was quoted as saying she would resist the attempts of Drescher to trim the financial fat by asking her to do more than her job description, which was to edit the and a Boston area resident, was quoted as saying she would resist the attempts of Drescher to trim the financial fat by asking her to do more than her job description, which was to edit the Journal Journal. It was not a pretty picture, and was discouraging for Julia, who had invested her image and money for five years.

In November 1985 the Newsletter Newsletter listed Julia as offering a $100,000 matching grant for the building fund and placed her name in the $100,000 donor category. She wrote Ross that it was time they straightened out her financial situation and removed her name from the list of donors in that category. "We do not have a formal pledge," only a charitable trust with money reserved for the building fund if the a.s.sociation "ever manages to get itself on a sound financial basis." In the meantime the money was accruing interest, but she "had no intention of releasing" the funds into operating expenses for the national office. She would not rise to their bait. "I don't want that cash to go down the faceless maw of general expenses," she wrote on February 23, 1988. Ross sent a copy of her letter to Graff, along with a yearly listing of her donations. Graff, who poured a great deal of his own money into the AIWF as well, saw the figures that showed that her giving already exceeded that amount, if they counted her founders' fee, her quarterly gift of a thousand dollars, her special underwriting for a new director, then the journal, and finally the corporate fees she diverted to them. She was generous, tolerant, even lenient in allowing professionals to do their job, but when she straightened her back on an issue, she could be brutally frank and stubborn. When she told a couple of friends she was tired of "being used" by the AIWF, the word got back rapidly to headquarters. listed Julia as offering a $100,000 matching grant for the building fund and placed her name in the $100,000 donor category. She wrote Ross that it was time they straightened out her financial situation and removed her name from the list of donors in that category. "We do not have a formal pledge," only a charitable trust with money reserved for the building fund if the a.s.sociation "ever manages to get itself on a sound financial basis." In the meantime the money was accruing interest, but she "had no intention of releasing" the funds into operating expenses for the national office. She would not rise to their bait. "I don't want that cash to go down the faceless maw of general expenses," she wrote on February 23, 1988. Ross sent a copy of her letter to Graff, along with a yearly listing of her donations. Graff, who poured a great deal of his own money into the AIWF as well, saw the figures that showed that her giving already exceeded that amount, if they counted her founders' fee, her quarterly gift of a thousand dollars, her special underwriting for a new director, then the journal, and finally the corporate fees she diverted to them. She was generous, tolerant, even lenient in allowing professionals to do their job, but when she straightened her back on an issue, she could be brutally frank and stubborn. When she told a couple of friends she was tired of "being used" by the AIWF, the word got back rapidly to headquarters.

Julia was extremely busy trying to complete her book, which was long past deadline, to tape her regular Good Morning America Good Morning America spots, and to care for Paul, who in early 1987 slipped from her grasp and fell down a flight of wooden stairs, injuring his ribs and wrist. He was growing weaker and she more concerned for him. Those who met him for the first time in the 1980s believed him to be sullen, distracted, or acerbic. Except for those trips to New York City for ABC, she isolated herself most of that year in Santa Barbara with her computer, missing her cooking gang. She was only halfway through the third chapter early in 1987, she told Mary Frances. By the next spring she was midway through the meat: "I never feel I know enough, and have to keep going out looking at chops, cooking them, etc. A book is so final, even though I keep saying 'in my experience,' to show that I am not stating eternal truths as I see them." The "quite presumptuous t.i.tle" intimidated her, but Mary Frances encouraged her to write "pure Julia" and not be cut down "into corporate wastebaskets." Julia may have been counting on Judith to cut and edit, but, from the receding deadlines, it was clear to Julia and Mary Frances that Julia was indeed writing her magnum opus. spots, and to care for Paul, who in early 1987 slipped from her grasp and fell down a flight of wooden stairs, injuring his ribs and wrist. He was growing weaker and she more concerned for him. Those who met him for the first time in the 1980s believed him to be sullen, distracted, or acerbic. Except for those trips to New York City for ABC, she isolated herself most of that year in Santa Barbara with her computer, missing her cooking gang. She was only halfway through the third chapter early in 1987, she told Mary Frances. By the next spring she was midway through the meat: "I never feel I know enough, and have to keep going out looking at chops, cooking them, etc. A book is so final, even though I keep saying 'in my experience,' to show that I am not stating eternal truths as I see them." The "quite presumptuous t.i.tle" intimidated her, but Mary Frances encouraged her to write "pure Julia" and not be cut down "into corporate wastebaskets." Julia may have been counting on Judith to cut and edit, but, from the receding deadlines, it was clear to Julia and Mary Frances that Julia was indeed writing her magnum opus.

PROFESSIONAL COMMITMENTS.

"Julia was always the first one to put on her badge at a convention," many of her friends point out. Patricia Wells noticed that she always wore her badge throughout a conference. It was a signal of her camaraderie with the professional circle and an instinctive democratic impulse. It echoed her opening of every television program: "h.e.l.lo, I'm Julia Child."

Though her primary professional commitment was to the AIWF, she was a very active member of what would eventually be called the International a.s.sociation of Culinary Professionals (IACP). In particular she worked with the organization to construct standards and certification procedures. When they established an examination (Certified Culinary Professional: CCP), she insisted on taking it herself. Whereas the IACP was practical, the AIWF was supposedly more scholarly.

Julia encouraged women culinary professionals within a sorority of good cooking schools, such as Anne Willan's La Varenne. She spoke out also in support of Dorothy Cann's excellent French Culinary Inst.i.tute in lower Manhattan. (Both Willan and Cann taught French cuisine, not coincidentally, but Julia welcomed dozens of other home cooking schools around the country.) She both visited schools and encouraged individuals. When they had met at La Varenne, Julia informed Susy Davidson: "You know, you are in the right place at the right time for a woman." (Susy would henceforth follow her anywhere.) Another woman, the first female graduate of the Ritz-Escoffier cooking school, wrote to complain to Julia about the terrible way she was treated and the insistence of the director (Gregory Usher) and chefs that there are no good women cooks. Julia always lent a sympathetic ear and words of encouragement to the women and the schools, filing all the letters for later recommendations.

She helped to found the Women's Culinary Guild of New England, attended its meetings as well as those of the Les Dames d'Escoffier, Culinary Historians of Boston, and the IACP. She continued to support the Beard House by allowing them to use her name as a founder. Her donations went to the AIWF, but "her name was magic," declares Kathleen Perry. Julia did not cotton to compet.i.tion among these groups, only joint efforts toward the goals in which she believed. She loved the lectures, sessions, and camaraderie of every culinary conference. She waited in line with everyone else, Patricia Wells remembers, except once when there was a huge line for Dungeness crab, which Julia adores, and she went directly to the head of the line in a rare moment of pulling rank.

During this decade Julia had several broad commitments: professionalizing the craft, educating the public about food, and the practical improvement of food, specifically the quality of ma.s.s-produced food. As she said in her "We Happy Few" letter: "With 250 million mouths to feed, we have to ma.s.s-produce." She refused to have her name on any board on which she was not active, and turned down several honorary degrees. She chose her charities carefully (refusing a request for a large donation to her Katharine Branson alma mater in the spring of 1980, for example). As a favor to AIWF executive board member and old friend George Gruenwald, Julia was his guest star at the annual PBS board meeting in San Diego in 1989. Bob Johnson had once encouraged her to cut back on giveaways, believing that every time she did a demonstration for Planned Parenthood, she was chipping away at her image. She disagreed, and wrote a lengthy appeal to the new First Lady, Barbara Bush, on November 28, 1988, asking her, as a Smith sister, to plead the cause for having only wanted babies. She feared for Planned Parenthood under the Reagan Supreme Court.

Two inst.i.tutions of higher education in the Boston area would become major projects occupying her devotion and time during the coming decade: Radcliffe's Schlesinger Library and Boston University. When she and Paul returned to Cambridge for four months toward the end of 1988, she was feted on two occasions by the Arthur and Elizabeth Schlesinger Library on the History of Women in America (named for the parents of Julia's neighbor, the famous Kennedy historian). To their large collection of women's history, Julia added most of her own cookbooks and her papers, including her correspondence with Elizabeth David, M. F. K. Fisher, and Simone Beck. That fall she was elected an honorary member of Phi Beta Kappa, and in December she was there for the dedication of and the party for the renovated Julia Child Research Area, housing 5,000 cookbooks and study carrels. She did not miss an opportunity to talk to Barbara Wheaton, honorary curator, and Barbara Haber, curator of printed books, about her desire to see an academic program in the history and writing of gastronomy. Haber and the library were featured that fall in a Newsweek Newsweek article celebrating "a cla.s.sic women's library," mentioning Julia's papers and Louise Nevelson's sculpture. article celebrating "a cla.s.sic women's library," mentioning Julia's papers and Louise Nevelson's sculpture.

Two days after the dedication ceremony at the Schlesinger, Julia was in front of a packed audience at Boston University teaching a seminar in the culinary arts. For years, Julia and Jacques Pepin (who had a graduate degree in literature from Columbia University) had advocated a Department of Gastronomy, but were as yet unsuccessful. A year before, the acting president refused a direct written appeal by Julia. But the university had a four-month certificate in Liberal Arts and, under its Seminars in the Arts, included seminars in the culinary arts. Julia gave her first one on December 3, 1988. Paul was in the front row and Elizabeth Bishop was a.s.sisting. As Julia was preparing steam-roasted goose, she noticed the extremely large back cavity of the bird and tried to disguise it with parsley, then discarded the idea with a caveat about pubic hair. It was a lively seminar.

Though she would devote nearly five years to writing her last book, leaving her with the feeling she did nothing else seven days a week, she did in fact do a great deal to develop the profession. Anne Willan and Mark Cherniavsky, who see the AIWF "as a kind of albatross" for her, best describe Julia's relations with all these professional organizations: "She will give any help within reason that she can give, but she does not want to run things for other people."

THE LAST BOOK.

From 1985 through 1988, Julia focused on two tasks: caring for Paul and completing her final book. The food world rose and the professional organizations boiled and coagulated around her, but she was often too preoccupied to turn on the blender and smooth out the sauce.

Projected deadlines came and went as she kept to the course she believed in, a thorough compendium of teaching techniques. She kept Mary Frances up-to-date on her progress. As early as 1987 she was telling people she was no longer tricoastal and would not be getting over to France, a decision based on the failing strength and awareness of Paul. She took Paul to the conferences and to the taping of Good Morning America Good Morning America, but one of her gang of young women a.s.sistants sat next to him to act as babysitter.

As Julia was finis.h.i.+ng her meat chapter, she received a letter from Ruth J. Robinson, whose former husband had worked with Nathan Pritikin at his Longevity Centers. The issue of fats and cholesterol was already a long-standing issue which Julia addressed in her form letters sent out by WGBH over her signature. Copies of Mrs. Robinson's letter, accusing Julia of gross promotion of obesity and heart disease, went to Polaroid and Trader Joe's (her television sponsors). The accuser, a resident of Santa Barbara, said she saw Julia at the farmers' market on Sat.u.r.days and friends saw her eating large salads at the Biltmore Hotel, so why could she not advocate healthy foods? Before his death Pritikin had been disturbed by Julia's promotion of wine and fat. Julia sent her answer immediately, including an AIWF brochure and her recipe for a healthy and happy life: Moderation in all things- A great variety of food- Exercise and weight watching- And, most important of all, PICK YOUR GRANDPARENTS.

"I must say," she added, "after learning something about the severity of his diet and knowing not only of Pritikin's long illness but of his relatively early death, I have often wondered if a good meal once in a while might have kept him going a little longer." No response came except from one of her sponsors, who said he would add a bottle of wine to that "good meal." "We are proud and happy to sponsor you," he ended. In her cover letter to the sponsors, she tucked in a postscript: "Letters like this are fun! Remember the Pope's Nose?"

When the National Enquirer National Enquirer called because they got wind of the Pritikin letter exchange, Bill Truslow informed them there was "no story." Julia, used to frankness, said no more at his suggestion. The American public agreed with her, for its consumption of fat per capita went from 52.9 pounds in 1970 to 62.7 pounds in 1990. Had he still been living, Pritikin would have noted, however, that deaths by "heart attacks" dropped from 226 to 104 for every 100,000 Americans between 1950 and 1992. An AIWF called because they got wind of the Pritikin letter exchange, Bill Truslow informed them there was "no story." Julia, used to frankness, said no more at his suggestion. The American public agreed with her, for its consumption of fat per capita went from 52.9 pounds in 1970 to 62.7 pounds in 1990. Had he still been living, Pritikin would have noted, however, that deaths by "heart attacks" dropped from 226 to 104 for every 100,000 Americans between 1950 and 1992. An AIWF Newsletter Newsletter at the end of that year quoted Julia: "What we have is panic at the table. We're afraid of fat, meat, pesticides. Going to the dinner table has become more a pitfall than a pleasure." The following year Molly O'Neill quoted her in the at the end of that year quoted Julia: "What we have is panic at the table. We're afraid of fat, meat, pesticides. Going to the dinner table has become more a pitfall than a pleasure." The following year Molly O'Neill quoted her in the International International Herald Tribune: Herald Tribune: "[America has] a fanatical fear of food.... I still insist that an unhappy stomach is going to curdle your nutrition." After a speech by Julia on this theme at a Santa Barbara AIWF Taste and Health Conference, her friend Marshall Ackerman followed her as panel chairman and introduced himself: "I am Marshall Ackerman, former publisher of "[America has] a fanatical fear of food.... I still insist that an unhappy stomach is going to curdle your nutrition." After a speech by Julia on this theme at a Santa Barbara AIWF Taste and Health Conference, her friend Marshall Ackerman followed her as panel chairman and introduced himself: "I am Marshall Ackerman, former publisher of Prevention Prevention magazine-we cr magazine-we created the fear of food." the fear of food."

"It's like taking care of your car," she liked to say to reporters. "If you don't give it enough oil, it breaks down." Her stand on "rich creamery b.u.t.ter" (waiters were told to remove margarine from her table) was vindicated in 1994 when studies were released showing the dangers of margarine (because of the hydrogenated oils) and that the price and calories were the same as for b.u.t.ter. Scientists were also saying, "There are 120 flavor components in b.u.t.ter, and the taste is impossible to duplicate," the New York Times New York Times reported. reported.

However, when a local food writer in Boston several years later tried to set up a meeting, at Julia's request, between her and Tufts president Jean Mayer, "the affable French war hero and nutritionist wanted no part of her," because her rich desserts had undone what he was working to change in American diets. In 1996 the go-between revealed the incident: "Helas! "Helas! Jean Mayer, who could never say no to another pat of b.u.t.ter, is now dead of a heart attack ... and Julia ... is the thriving and still disciplined mistress of small portions." Jean Mayer, who could never say no to another pat of b.u.t.ter, is now dead of a heart attack ... and Julia ... is the thriving and still disciplined mistress of small portions."

Julia fell over her computer cord in Santa Barbara that spring and broke her hip ("I was plunging around, and I caught my foot in it and lost my balance"). Governor Dukakis's letter of sympathy arrived at the Santa Barbara Cottage Hospital. His great supporter, ever a Democrat, Julia replied it was like a "shot in the hip" to hear from him. In fact, she was furious at what she had done and the time lost, and immediately got busy on therapy through the summer. Rosemary came down to help during her recovery. The injury made Julia realize that Paul could not manage on his own and she must consider future organized care for him. She told one journalist who was interviewing her for a McCall's McCall's feature on their "recipe for love" that their only regret was not having children. "I would have been a complete mother," she said. "I would have liked to have had grown children and grandchildren. But we do have wonderful nieces and nephews, and we're close to them." feature on their "recipe for love" that their only regret was not having children. "I would have been a complete mother," she said. "I would have liked to have had grown children and grandchildren. But we do have wonderful nieces and nephews, and we're close to them."

Discouraged about the setback from her broken hip and questioning whether people wanted to do any more real cooking, she decided at the end of May to cut down The Way to Cook The Way to Cook in order to meet her July deadline. She wrote to Mary Frances in late May that she was "about to start on what I think is the last chapter of my book! I have decided to omit EGGS AND SOUFFLeS, since I have nothing new to say about them, and MAIN COURSE MISC.-to h.e.l.l with that. There will be slogging through to tighten up the early chapters, but I shall make that deadline in July-perhaps not July 1st, but it will be done before we leave here July 22nd." However, she could not exclude eggs, and her deadline unfortunately moved back again. in order to meet her July deadline. She wrote to Mary Frances in late May that she was "about to start on what I think is the last chapter of my book! I have decided to omit EGGS AND SOUFFLeS, since I have nothing new to say about them, and MAIN COURSE MISC.-to h.e.l.l with that. There will be slogging through to tighten up the early chapters, but I shall make that deadline in July-perhaps not July 1st, but it will be done before we leave here July 22nd." However, she could not exclude eggs, and her deadline unfortunately moved back again.

She had said for several years that her own cooking changed, as she had, but she included several recipes (with small changes) that remained successful and beloved to her readers, such as her "famous Queen of Sheba cake" (she used now both sweetened and unsweetened chocolate and less sugar). With variations through the years, this Reine de Saba cake had appeared in the first Mastering Mastering and in and in The French Chef The French Chef. This final volume, after all, was her magnum opus, an oversized book that would number 511 pages and have eleven traditional chapters, from soups to cakes and cookies. There would be 650 photographs (given her by Parade) Parade), for she believed one learned best by seeing. Julia emphasized her debt to her cooking gang, naming in the introduction those who worked with her on Parade, Good Morning America Parade, Good Morning America, and the Dinner at Julia's Dinner at Julia's television series, including "our friendly ayatollah" Russ Morash. The collective effort also shows up in the narration of the recipes. She includes "Rosemary's cla.s.sic pizza dough," a fillet of salmon braised with a mousseline of scallops, which she and Marian Morash created when Julia was working on-line at the Straight Wharf restaurant, Maggie Mah's grandmother's applesauce fruitcake, and the grated potato galette Sara Moulton made when she was sous-chef at La Tulipe in New York City. television series, including "our friendly ayatollah" Russ Morash. The collective effort also shows up in the narration of the recipes. She includes "Rosemary's cla.s.sic pizza dough," a fillet of salmon braised with a mousseline of scallops, which she and Marian Morash created when Julia was working on-line at the Straight Wharf restaurant, Maggie Mah's grandmother's applesauce fruitcake, and the grated potato galette Sara Moulton made when she was sous-chef at La Tulipe in New York City.

The Childs returned to Cambridge in September 1988, not only for the Schlesinger and Boston University appearances, but to complete the final work on her book and confer with Judith Jones on the layout. There would be three columns per page, thus six columns with the book opened. Julia agreed to lower her royalties to 7 percent on the first printing of 60,000 in order to keep the price down. Knopf would ultimately earn back far more than their nearly half-million-dollar advance with future printings and serial sales. It seemed as though she had done "nothing else for the last five years at least," she wrote Simca. "This is certainly my last book-too confining." And, in a familiar refrain, she told Anne Willan, "Never again."

In an article in the December issue of the Radcliffe Quarterly Radcliffe Quarterly, under the t.i.tle she would have preferred for her book, "Cooking My Way," Julia expressed doubts about writing to an audience in the 1980s: "Are they interested in real cooking anymore, or is it all pasta salads? I personally love the pure mechanics of the art, including the chopping, the shredding, the sauteing, the butchering, even the cleanup. And I am fascinated by the basic principles, and what you can do with them once mastered." In a letter to Simca praising Anne Willan's new ill.u.s.trated encyclopedia of cookery, Julia said, "Our Masterings Masterings still sell, but cla.s.sic French cuisine is 'out' because of health and cholesterol fads." still sell, but cla.s.sic French cuisine is 'out' because of health and cholesterol fads."

IN THE END IS THE BEGINNING.

Because Paul was unhappy in the Cambridge winter, waiting around while Julia corrected proofs, she took him back to Santa Barbara in February 1989. For the next six months he could walk on the beach in balmy weather. This was a turning point in Julia's life, the end of her last, long book and looking ahead to months of promotion in the fall and winter. Again bowing to the necessities of modern television and photographs, the suggestion of professionals, and her own practicality ("If you look old and gray, you feel old and gray"), she had more facial surgery. The result was wonderful, her friends believed and photographs confirmed. If any friends were disappointed in her, they said nothing. She was largely recovered when Jean Stapleton first performed Lee Hoiby's Bon Appet.i.t Bon Appet.i.t, a musical theatrical rendition of Julia's chocolate cake recipe (gateau Victoire au chocolat, mousseline (gateau Victoire au chocolat, mousseline, from Julia Child & Company). It was first performed in Was.h.i.+ngton, DC, then at California State University, Long Beach, and finally Santa Fe. They sent her tickets and she went to see it on opening night with the Gateses, but says, "I did not think of it as being me."

By 1989, the AIWF's debt was over half a million dollars and both D. Crosby Ross and Dun Gifford resigned. First (during 1987 and 1988) came the revolt of the AIWF chapters, which had been gaining power for several years, especially the New York, Los Angeles, and San Francisco chapters; second was what some saw as betrayal by Dun Gifford, who quietly organized his own competing company, Oldways, an educational group focusing on diet and culture. When Child, Graff, Mondavi, and Michael McCarty confronted Gifford at the Four Seasons Hotel in Chicago with his conflict of interest, he resigned from the board. He also took the backing of the Olive Oil Council with him and the AIWF remained "very bitter" toward him. Julia was hurt and incredulous, but rarely talked against him (one of her best friends said, "Julia did not want to hear about it. She is loyal to the end"). He was gone only months when he hired away Gregory Drescher (Program Director) and Nancy Harmon Jenkins (editor of the Journal) Journal).

David Strada had already been hired as AIWF executive director ("I was appointed to clean up and turn around"), with a salary commensurate with the income of the organization, and now Graff talked Dorothy Cann, who was AIWF board secretary and managed her own French Culinary Inst.i.tute, in to being chair of the board of directors. Though disappointed by the betrayal by Gifford, Julia would remain his friend and neighbor. Soon she would give more time to helping the revolutionaries reinvent the AIWF and pay its debts.

Julia lost two dear friends in early 1989. Ivan Cousins, the husband of her sister, Dort, finally succ.u.mbed to prostate cancer in San Francisco on January 2. They had known for more than a year that he would die and she had grieved with her sister. Then on March 8 her beloved friend Avis DeVoto died of pancreatic cancer at the age of eighty-four. The obituaries mentioned her marriage to the well-known historian and columnist, her office management at Bread Loaf for decades, and her job as a secretary at Harvard's Lowell House and then at the office of the Dean of Students at Radcliffe. But as far as Julia was concerned, Avis's greatest claim to fame would be her championing of Mastering the Art of French Cooking Mastering the Art of French Cooking and taking the ma.n.u.script to Knopf. Julia grieved the pa.s.sing of her proofreader and editor, lively correspondent (and clipping service), loyal friend, and pinch hitter. and taking the ma.n.u.script to Knopf. Julia grieved the pa.s.sing of her proofreader and editor, lively correspondent (and clipping service), loyal friend, and pinch hitter.

Confronted with the most difficult decision of her life, one that would change her life irrevocably, Julia told Simca in the summer of 1989 that she believed Paul's "days are numbered." Since his heart bypa.s.s and strokes in 1974 and the slow return of only part of his memory, Paul had had two prostate operations and carried a slow-growing tumor. Unable to care for himself, he was confused and incontinent. When he was hospitalized in June, she called her lawyer and friend Bill Truslow and then met with the doctors for "a big medical pow-wow" on the twenty-third. She would listen to the experts, as she always did. They advised putting him in a medical care facility in Santa Barbara, and on good days Julia would bring him home or take him out for a short time. She a.s.sured one friend in mid-September, "He has had a good and interesting life." His family believed she kept him out of long-term care far longer than she needed to or should have. Friends like Margrit Biever (Mondavi) admired Julia's commitment to Paul: "They stood by their commitment to each other; there was a point of honor there. It was love, but beyond love."

On August 6 she took him to see an exhibit of some of his paintings at a "Salute to Paul Child," planned by the Southern California Culinary Guild and hosted by the Santa Barbara Winery. According to Karen Berk and Mitzie Cutler, who led the organization, Julia brought him in before the crowd arrived and walked him slowly around to see these paintings capturing the Venice, Provence, and China scenes they had shared. She took him back to the nursing home and returned herself before the crowd arrived. The Los Angeles Times Los Angeles Times did a feature in its food section on the party for Paul, but few knew how much she had already lost of Paul or of the second decision she made to take him out of the Santa Barbara facility, which she decided she did not like, and back to Cambridge. did a feature in its food section on the party for Paul, but few knew how much she had already lost of Paul or of the second decision she made to take him out of the Santa Barbara facility, which she decided she did not like, and back to Cambridge.

As her friend Maggie Mah said: "Julia doesn't twist herself inside out or waste time agonizing when making a decision; she just does it. She is a deeply compa.s.sionate and generous person with the ability to balance her own needs with the needs of others. She has a certain moral toughness that is very well ill.u.s.trated by her competence and devotion in taking care of Paul." The best description of Julia's own feelings was expressed nearly eight years before in a letter she wrote to f.a.n.n.y Brennan. Julia observed Alice Lee Myers, f.a.n.n.y's mother, who had dementia and was living with them. She wrote to tell f.a.n.n.y she had to put her mother into a home: "You must get her into a senior citizen place ... so that she can be taken care of, and so that you can be at peace and lead some kind of normal life. I am sure she herself would be horrified if she knew [your suffering].... You will feel guilty, as everyone does, but you have, f.a.n.n.y, been a generous, loving and caring daughter." Then she added a few words about "the agony of being tough about it."

Bill Truslow walked across the street from Julia's Santa Barbara condominium to sit in the garden and read the latest copy of The Atlantic Monthly The Atlantic Monthly. He turned a page and saw a full-page drawing of a thistle and a poem written by his brother-in-law Peter Davison about the death of his wife, Jane. Truslow sat silently, swept by the old grief at his sister's death. Eventually he walked back to the Child apartment and found that Julia's galleys of The Way to Cook The Way to Cook had arrived. When he saw the dedication to Bob Johnson, he told her about running into Peter's poem. They talked quietly about Bob and Jane, as they did about Paul, and then fell silent, both grieving. "I suddenly felt I knew why I was so at home with Julia. Yankees do not indulge themselves. No keening or verbal a.n.a.lysis. Yes, Julia can weep, but she will not beat her breast. She is open, but she never spills." had arrived. When he saw the dedication to Bob Johnson, he told her about running into Peter's poem. They talked quietly about Bob and Jane, as they did about Paul, and then fell silent, both grieving. "I suddenly felt I knew why I was so at home with Julia. Yankees do not indulge themselves. No keening or verbal a.n.a.lysis. Yes, Julia can weep, but she will not beat her breast. She is open, but she never spills."

To avoid the traffic in Los Angeles, they got Paul from the nursing home and left at 4:30 in the morning. As they flew to Boston, Paul asked where they were going, and Julia reminded him of what the doctors told them in Santa Barbara. When they drove to the nursing home in Lexington, Paul asked the same thing. He wanted to go home. Julia never lied to him. The tears were streaming down her cheeks as they left the Fairlawn Nursing Home. It was the most painful thing she ever did.

Chapter 26.

NOTRE D DAME DE LA C CUISINE.

(1989 1993) "She's the nation's energy queen."

JIM WOOD, San Francisco Examiner, 1991 1991

"SIGN YOUR OLD name and address," Mary Fran Russell said, opening her copy of name and address," Mary Fran Russell said, opening her copy of The Way to Cook The Way to Cook and giving Julia a hug. "Julia McWilliams, 1207 South Pasadena Street," her former cla.s.smate wrote on the first page of her five-pound book. Vroman's bookstore in Pasadena was jammed with admirers. Standing patiently in the snaking line that ran out the door were several of her now gray-haired friends from the Polytechnic School and the neighborhood. "Oh, Bill, are you still alive!?" Julia called out as he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. They all remembered her old address and reminded her of childhood events they had shared. Julia was home, and her buddies were there to celebrate her great success. and giving Julia a hug. "Julia McWilliams, 1207 South Pasadena Street," her former cla.s.smate wrote on the first page of her five-pound book. Vroman's bookstore in Pasadena was jammed with admirers. Standing patiently in the snaking line that ran out the door were several of her now gray-haired friends from the Polytechnic School and the neighborhood. "Oh, Bill, are you still alive!?" Julia called out as he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. They all remembered her old address and reminded her of childhood events they had shared. Julia was home, and her buddies were there to celebrate her great success.

PROMOTING THE WAY TO COOK THE WAY TO COOK.

She began the late-1989 press tour for The Way to Cook The Way to Cook in San Francisco two days after the October earthquake and never considered not going. Knopf's West Coast publicist, Pamela Henstell, was pregnant and not certain she wanted to be there, especially when they felt a strong aftershock. Nothing deterred the seventy-seven-year-old author from her demanding two-month promotion tour and the moving line of book buyers greeting her at every stop. Too many years and solitary hours had been spent writing the book, and she also felt the responsibility of an enormous advance. Pre-Christmas sales should be remarkably strong. For the first time a cookbook was given the coveted position of main selection of the Book-of-the-Month Club. The editors there were not intimidated by the $50 price. in San Francisco two days after the October earthquake and never considered not going. Knopf's West Coast publicist, Pamela Henstell, was pregnant and not certain she wanted to be there, especially when they felt a strong aftershock. Nothing deterred the seventy-seven-year-old author from her demanding two-month promotion tour and the moving line of book buyers greeting her at every stop. Too many years and solitary hours had been spent writing the book, and she also felt the responsibility of an enormous advance. Pre-Christmas sales should be remarkably strong. For the first time a cookbook was given the coveted position of main selection of the Book-of-the-Month Club. The editors there were not intimidated by the $50 price.

Her talent was an offshoot of her vigor. She and her team traveled the country, sometimes taking five meetings or interviews a day with press, radio and television. She made crepes for David Letterman, who tossed them to the audience. She signed books at the November AIWF Conference on Gastronomy in Chicago. She signed 300 books at a Boston bookstore, attended a reception at the Schlesinger Library for French women chefs, partic.i.p.ated in a champagne tasting at the Meridien Hotel, then fed eight people for dinner that night because old friends Sally [Bicknell] and Leonard Miall were visiting from London. Her only bow to time was the dessert, store-bought ice cream over which she poured bourbon and sprinkled ground coffee beans. One journalist observed that she "maintains a schedule that might exhaust a teenager." Another called her "the nation's energy queen."

She had a particularly crazy travel schedule because she insisted on going home at least once a week to see Paul, whom she phoned every day. When she first put him in Fairlawn, she visited him three and four times a day, especially if he called her to come. With his short-term memory gone, he was not certain when he last saw her. Hanging up the telephone, she never knew if he recognized her loving voice.

"This was her last big tour," said Janice Goldklang, Knopf's publicity director for the tour, "Crowds and sales were incredible." It was her magnum opus, and everyone came out. "Such a show and outpouring of love. Local publicity people are not prepared for the crowds and that is why we travel with her. We can get a line going and organize it, insisting on signatures only, nothing personal." Henstell, who accompanied her in the West, reported that people would stand in line an hour and then demand a personal message ("To my favorite cook" was one). "Somebody else has to play the bad guy, and I would step in and say that there is not enough time." There was a limit to how long one person could sit and sign, she said, but "Julia always continued to the last person." In addition to the Knopf staff, Susy Davidson occasionally accompanied her in the South, Sara Moulton (with the most professional experience) helped out in New York City, and Liz Bishop in Boston. "I don't know how she does it," says Davidson, remembering a spiraling line of hundreds in a hotel in Dallas. "It's my job," she would tell those exhausted women trying to keep up with her. She was, as John Updike said of one of his characters, "an athlete of the clock."

The press either wrote profiles of her or reviewed the book with several other books by heavy hitters that fall and winter of 198990. At the annual Beard Awards in May 1990, her book came in third after Anne Willan's La Varenne Pratique La Varenne Pratique (the winner) and the Silver Palette's (the winner) and the Silver Palette's New Basics Cookbook New Basics Cookbook (officially she tied for second). She reported to Simca the inside results (only the winner was ever announced at the Beard Awards), adding her usual (officially she tied for second). She reported to Simca the inside results (only the winner was ever announced at the Beard Awards), adding her usual Tant pis pour moi! Tant pis pour moi! The IACP also awarded Willan first place, with Julia tying for second place. Cla.s.sic techniques with contemporary style was her approach. She informed the press that her book was written for "someone who wants to learn to cook but already knows the basics ... a lot like learning backhand in tennis." Which explains why Mimi Sheraton said five years later, "She taught the basic techniques best in The IACP also awarded Willan first place, with Julia tying for second place. Cla.s.sic techniques with contemporary style was her approach. She informed the press that her book was written for "someone who wants to learn to cook but already knows the basics ... a lot like learning backhand in tennis." Which explains why Mimi Sheraton said five years later, "She taught the basic techniques best in The Way to Cook The Way to Cook, which, with her first Mastering Mastering, is her best. I have given The Way to Cook The Way to Cook as a gift more than any other book because I subscribe to the philosophy that you learn to cook the basic techniques and then you adapt them." as a gift more than any other book because I subscribe to the philosophy that you learn to cook the basic techniques and then you adapt them."

Before she began the tour Julia entertained journalists who flocked in for profiles to run upon the release of the book. As she was driving Molly O'Neill to the train after one interview, she backed her car across the street and into the neighbors' station wagon. "Oh, dear. I've really done it this time," she said, and O'Neill closed her New York Times New York Times profile with this incident. The accident was carried around the world when the piece was picked up by the profile with this incident. The accident was carried around the world when the piece was picked up by the International Herald Tribune International Herald Tribune. "At seventy-seven, she's so Julia!" O'Neill exclaimed.

If she had not been Julia Child, her book would have been lost in the crowd of giant primers or reference books that appeared between 1988 and 1990: new editions of Larousse Gastronomique, Better Homes & Gardens New Cook Book Larousse Gastronomique, Better Homes & Gardens New Cook Book, and The Fannie Farmer Cookbook The Fannie Farmer Cookbook, as well as the books by Rosso and Lukins, Willan, Pepin (The Art of Cooking) (The Art of Cooking), Craig Claiborne, and others. Christopher Lehmann-Haupt called it "a magnificent distillation of a lifetime of cooking." Florence Fabricant, reporting on all these books for the New York Times, said New York Times, said they indicated that "after years of takeout, many are returning home [to learn the basics]." they indicated that "after years of takeout, many are returning home [to learn the basics]."

When the tour was over Julia hired a secretary named Stephanie Hersh from the Katharine Gibbs School (she was the only one in her cla.s.s with a culinary background). Julia hired her on a part-time basis only, fearing she was just trying to get into her kitchen, as Stephanie had a college degree as well as a two-year degree from the Culinary Inst.i.tute of America (1985) and had worked as a banquet manager and a private family chef. The only thing Stephanie faked was her computer skills. She had word-processing training at the business school, but had never seen a computer mouse. She typed Julia's letters on a typewriter, took the computer book home for the weekend, and came back to master the machine. It was that quick intelligence and bravura that Julia needed. "I have office gridlock," Julia confessed. But Stephanie realized when a forgotten Canadian Public Television crew showed up that first day to film "A Day in the Life of Julia Child" that more than computer skills were needed in the Cambridge office.

Someone needed to see the entire picture for Julia: "She had kitchen people, book people, television people, a part-time typing woman, a cleaning lady ... [but] no one seemed to have the full picture of Julia's needs," Stephanie remembers. Within days she urged Julia to replace her longtime a.s.sistant (who had a drinking problem and worked only when Julia was around), took the schedule book and coordinated publis.h.i.+ng and AIWF demands (Julia did not need to go to Chicago twice in one month), requested first-cla.s.s flight arrangements and pickup, saw to it that she got frequent-flier miles, and drove her to local events. When she told Julia she was a bad driver, Julia responded, "Okay, then, I will get a Volvo," and purchased a fire-engine-red Volvo, which she also backed into the neighbor's car across the street. When Julia was out of town Stephanie visited Paul and took him for walks until it was no longer possible for him to leave Fairlawn. Some friends and family would resent her organization of Julia's life, but Julia was soon pleased with the humor and organizational skills of her young office manager. They were both at a local AIWF event at Locke-Ober's restaurant, unaware they were standing almost back to back. Stephanie heard someone ask Julia if her new secretary was on an apprentices.h.i.+p. When Julia answered, "No, we are together until death do us part," Stephanie leaned her head back and asked impertinently, "Whose?" Julia laughed and said, "Time will tell."

THE BULLY PULPIT.

Julia Child was a formidable preacher. With her national stature as a television personality, the unquestioned trust people had in her integrity (Anne Willan called her "the voice of reason"), and her physical height and stage presence, everyone took notice and listened. She knew how to sound-bite (newsman Jim Wood called her "always quotable"). She became, in Newsweek's Newsweek's words, "our leading national symbol of gustatory pleasure." Her message was her philosophy of life: life is to be joyous, and joy comes from sensory pleasures shared with others. The Gospel According to Julia: Good food and wine are central to health and pleasure. The table she shared with others was her altar. words, "our leading national symbol of gustatory pleasure." Her message was her philosophy of life: life is to be joyous, and joy comes from sensory pleasures shared with others. The Gospel According to Julia: Good food and wine are central to health and pleasure. The table she shared with others was her altar. "Le carillon de l'amitie" "Le carillon de l'amitie" Paul had called out when winegla.s.ses rang together. "I don't think pleasure is decadent," she said in a 1992 article ent.i.tled "Julia Child, the Pleasure Shark": "It's part of life, it's the juice of life, it's the reason for living, for Paul had called out when winegla.s.ses rang together. "I don't think pleasure is decadent," she said in a 1992 article ent.i.tled "Julia Child, the Pleasure Shark": "It's part of life, it's the juice of life, it's the reason for living, for everything everything we do." we do."

She "reopened the American kitchen as an arena of Old World sensuality and pleasure," one food writer a.s.serted. She could have preached the importance of s.e.xual pleasure-as Paul did in a 1975 cover story of their marriage in People People when he spoke of "eating, drinking, and love-making"-but she was New England and of a certain generation. Privately she had a bawdy frankness. It was not just that food was her profession; it was central to health, nourishment, and happiness. "I want to be healthy and well fed up to the end. What will prolong my life is eating well and enjoying it," she a.s.serted. when he spoke of "eating, drinking, and love-making"-but she was New England and of a certain generation. Privately she had a bawdy frankness. It was not just that food was her profession; it was central to health, nourishment, and happiness. "I want to be healthy and well fed up to the end. What will prolong my life is eating well and enjoying it," she a.s.serted.

She seemed at times to be proclaiming the message of variety, balance, and good taste to a dark and puritanical country, which feared ecstatic tastes ("sinful" and "to die for" were common adjectives) and good wine. Years earlier, she had lifted her gla.s.s at the end of her first program in 1963 in front of families who (except for those in ethnic neighborhoods) had no wine bottles on their shelves. Thirty years later, more families were drinking wine with their meals, but as wine critic Frank Prial a.s.serted, America is a country that will never become wine drinkers. Beer and hard liquor, but not (as Julia believed) the basic food group (wine) that should be enjoyed with meals.

The least well-attended Conference on Gastronomy was held in February 1991 in Los Angeles: "Wine in American Life," with workshops full of medical doctors, professors, and wine specialists from around the country. The conference was elegant and groundbreaking, but it took AIWF a year to pay the Biltmore and American Express bills (staff members had their personal cards revoked by AmEx) because the cash-poor national office used most of the $100,000 conference income to pay office expenses. The educational influence of such conferences is difficult to measure (nonmember registration cost $590). The next year Julia appeared before a congressional hearing to have wine regulation taken out of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms and placed in the hands of the U.S. Department of Agriculture.

If suspicion of the pleasures of the table undermined the furthering of good cooking, certainly the pace of contemporary life also undermined the goals of Julia Child. (Burger King was selling two million Whopper hamburgers per day.) Food writer Paul Levy called Julia a "scholar-cook ... like Elizabeth David, Alan Davidson, and Jane Grigson," who "has taken on the unenviable task of civilizing the cooking and eating habits of the Junk Food continent." Julia cautioned one journalist, "I think snacking is a terrible, terrible habit," adding that Americans snack because they do not have balanced diets. Filling up on one-calorie sodas, "Healthy Choice nutritious frozen entrees," and "rubbery fat-free cheese" inevitably leads to a binge at Haagen-Dazs, says Mich.e.l.le Stacey in Consumed: Why Americans Love, Hate, and Fear Food Consumed: Why Americans Love, Hate, and Fear Food (1994). Numerous columnists joined her. Erma Bombeck: "I'm with Julia Child; we're sick of 'lite.' Frankly I'm bored to death with lite, non-fat ... no flavor, taste-like-the-bottom-of-a-clogged-drain food.... Neither Julia nor I is saying good nutrition is not a good thing. We're saying, just eat less of the real stuff." (1994). Numerous columnists joined her. Erma Bombeck: "I'm with Julia Child; we're sick of 'lite.' Frankly I'm bored to death with lite, non-fat ... no flavor, taste-like-the-bottom-of-a-clogged-drain food.... Neither Julia nor I is saying good nutrition is not a good thing. We're saying, just eat less of the real stuff."

If the 1970s had been marked by a craze for home cooking, with the Cuisinart and the proliferation of cooking schools, and the boom of the 1980s brought people out to restaurants, especially those with celebrity chefs, the 1990s featured takeout food. "Time and money dictated," says Mimi Sheraton, who gave up restaurant reviewing. Worried by recession and violence, perhaps even sated by restaurants, people coc.o.o.ned. They cooked a few dishes, but brought prepared food home from supermarkets and takeout from some of the finest restaurants. Julia predicted in an article in the Boston Globe Boston Globe that "home cooking is slowly making a come-back." If she had her way, the basic food groups would no longer be take-in, eat-out, frozen, and canned. that "home cooking is slowly making a come-back." If she had her way, the basic food groups would no longer be take-in, eat-out, frozen, and canned.

Julia used the bully pulpit of her beloved status to preach the pleasures of home cooking. The message was reinforced in the films of the mid-1990s, which celebrated the connection between home cooking and its sensuous and communal a.s.sociations: Like Water for Chocolate Like Water for Chocolate (1993), (1993), Eat, Drink, Man, Woman Eat, Drink, Man, Woman (1994) and (1994) and Big Night Big Night (1996)-all art films drawing wide interest and attendance. (1996)-all art films drawing wide interest and attendance.

As Julia had rejected her ancestors' corpse-cold Presbyterianism as life-denying and judgmental, so she fought the food puritanism so ingrained in America: the embarra.s.sment with too much talk about food, expressions about "wasting" too much time preparing and eating food, and the fear of food impurities by those who grew up in the 1960s. Ideas of h.e.l.l and d.a.m.nation found secular expression in bad cholesterol, high blood pressure, and fat. Julia was one of the first to champion fish inspection in Boston, but she believed crusaders injected fear into the heart of already inhibited eaters. Food n.a.z.is came in many forms by the 1990s, and the large number of competing periodicals led to both food faddism and headline scare tactics: pesticides, Alar sprayed on apples (Meryl Streep testified before Congress, in fear for her children's lives), cruelty to calves-in her words, "animal-rights people, screwy nutritionists and diet.i.tians, neo-prohibitionists" and "the health police." She restated her opinions frequently: about pesticides ("in moderation, we have to feed millions"); about cholesterol ("If we do not eat at least two [the number varied] tablespoons of oil each day our hair will begin to fall out: it is a basic food group;" "Chimpanzees fed less cholesterol are meaner and more violent than others"). She preferred one bite of a great dessert to a box of Entenmann's fat-free tasteless sugar concoctions. Entenmann's fat-free line ("This is chemistry, not cuisine," declared Laura Shapiro) was introduced in 1989.

Two years later a longevity study, reported by television's 20/20 20/20, revealed that people who live to be ninety or a hundred do not do so by eating a high-fiber diet of self-denial. A "sense of humor and an active life" were actually the factors that made for a healthy life. While the country was yo-yoed from fear to rea.s.surance by the press, Julia kept the middle ground of moderation.

Scare tactics, intolerance, and headline fads only fed the American fear of good food, good wine, and good times. Fearful reports only comforted the lazy cooks (66 million boxes of Hamburger Helper were sold the year Julia published The Way to Cook) The Way to Cook) and those who viewed food as just a necessity of physical survival (food as intravenous drip), not as essential to the spiritual, aesthetic, and social life. "Cooking is not a ch.o.r.e, it is a joy. Dining is not a fuel stop, it is recreation," she exhorted. Her book sold 300,000 copies that first year, but she believed that no book would change the country's eating habits. She was enough like her father-John McWilliams served on school and hospital boards for decades in Pasadena-to approach the problem through education. She continued to lobby for advanced programs in gastronomy, but she also envisioned the American Inst.i.tute of Wine and Food as playing a key role in educating the public. She had been busy completing her book and promoting it during the "Gatsby years" that led to the "revolution" (Dorothy Cann Hamilton's terms) among the ranks of the organization. Julia was now ready to spend a year traveling and reviving the enterprise that she, Mondavi, Graff, and Huttenback founded. and those who viewed food as just a necessity of physical survival (food as intravenous drip), not as essential to the spiritual, aesthetic, and social life. "Cooking is not a ch.o.r.e, it is a joy. Dining