Is There Any Room Left in Today's Kitchen for Julia Child?

As someone who's even marginally interested in food (or even someone who isn't), it's hard not to think of Julia Child often these days. In anticipation of the impending movie release, if you're not watching Meryl Streep channel her in a trailer for the upcoming Julie and Julia (opens August 7), then you are probably reading some very serious reflections on how she impacted culinary America. All of this has gotten me thinking a few things. First, how did we manage to forget about Julia Child in the first place? In our increasingly food obsessed culture, you'd think that the woman who started it all would hold a more privileged position; or, at the very least, a position that trumped the Tom Colicchios, Gordon Ramsays and Rachael Rays of the world. Second, can this movie introduce her to a new generation of cooks and food enthusiasts in a way of which she might approve?

It doesn't really surprise me that over the course of a few decades Julia Child's presence in the cultural consciousness has diminished; her style is absurdly out of step with the food world that holds America's attention right now. Child was, of course, a brand, a personality and one of the world's first food celebrities, but she was fundamentally a cook. She promoted a level of dedication in the kitchen that few culinary civilians are interested in committing today. In the flood of articles that have been published about her recently, her contemporaries often recall how she had no patience for "flimsies". Mastering the Art of French Cooking is an invitation to become an accomplished home cook. Sure, it made a highly complicated cuisine accessible to the average American housewife, but that does not mean it simplified French food. Anyone who has leafed through the book or attempted its recipes can attest that they require focus, patience and the desire to try, try again. Child never attempted to make something difficult easy. On the contrary, her life's work was to demonstrate the reward of mastering something difficult.

Excluding a cultish faction of foodies who butcher their own pigs, America tends to demand ease from its recipes. But, we love to watch extremes. The success of television shows like Iron Chef and Top Chef, reflects our desire to see people do crazy things with sushi knives in hot kitchens under significant time constraints—things that we'll never have to do ourselves. This interest, I believe, can also account for the success of Julie Powell's blog and subsequent memoir. People were interested in seeing her attempt the incredible. Reading her book, it's difficult to remain unimpressed by the goal she sets for herself, but you don't (or I don't, rather) get the sense that it has much to do with an appreciation for the food she's preparing. Upon rediscovering Mastering the Art of French Cooking, she describes the book as something charmingly nostalgic and hopelessly out of date. Her decision to cook with it is many things—impulsive, unconventional, ironic, but certainly not practical or serious in the way Child intended. In a recent article on publishersweekly.com, Judith Jones, Child's editor at Knopf, recalled how Julia was reluctant to endorse the blog when it first surfaced.

Jones thinks there was a generational difference between Powell and Child. "Flinging around four-letter words when cooking isn't attractive, to me or Julia. She didn't want to endorse it. What came through on the blog was somebody who was doing it almost for the sake of a stunt. She would never really describe the end results, how delicious it was, and what she learned. Julia didn't like what she called 'the flimsies.' She didn't suffer fools, if you know what I mean."

This is not to say that Child was stuffy or dull; anyone who has watched her show knows that she was cheeky in a way that bordered on camp. She is, after all, the woman who once said "The best way to execute French cooking is to get good and loaded and whack the hell out of a chicken. Bon appétit." But, she was smart, passionate and understood the distinct pleasure that comes from slowly cultivating an expertise. This, I fear, is an appreciation that our culture has almost entirely lost. We like fast, easy, exciting and stimulating, but have lost our patience for slow and subtle. Nora Ephron, screenwriter and director of the upcoming movie rendition of Julie and Julia has expressed her hope that a new generation of cooks will leave the theater wanting to make Coq au Vin. But, I find it unlikely that they will be preparing it from Julia's recipe.

— Written by Cecilia Estreich

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