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Bon appetit!

August 11th, 2006 Sarah - Alicia Ashman

Julia Child is the reason none of my shorts fit.

At least, she’s the one I’m going to blame for it.  I thought when I picked up her memoir My Life in France that I’d get a lively read and maybe a bit of a Paris travelogue from Child’s point of view.  What I was not expecting was a memoir that would make me so hungry that every chapter would send me scrambling to the cupboards for a little something, anything, to nosh on.  Consider this paragraph:

“We began our lunch with a half-dozen oysters on the half-shell.  I was used to bland oysters from Washington and Massachusetts, which I had never much cared for.  But this platter of portugaises had a sensational briny flavor and a smooth texture that was entirely new and surprising.  The oysters were served with rounds of pain de seigle, a pale rye bread, with a spread of unsalted butter.  Paul [Child, Julia's husband] explained that, as with wine, the French have ‘crus’ of butter, special regions that produce individually flavored butters.” (p. 17.)

Friends and neighbors, never have I been hungry for oysters and rye crackers with butter.  I am now.

Child’s love for French food and Paris are not the only ones she describes in the book; she also spends much time joyfully recounting anecdotes from her relationship and marriage to Paul Child.  It is, as New York Times book reviewer Alan Riding said, “this book, written with her husband’s great-nephew, Alex Prud’homme, is really a love story: she loved Paul Child, 10 years her senior; she loved French cooking; and she loved life.”

I may not love having to buy new (and bigger) shorts.  But I love Julia Child.

Entry Filed under: Memoir & Biography, Nonfiction