world she had the foresight to know was undergoing important and exciting changes.
Chapter 4
My advice to you is not to inquire why or whither, but just enjoy your ice cream while it's on your plateâthat's my philosophy.
âThornton Wilder, The Skin of Our Teeth
Wysiwyg. That's what Russ Morash said when members of the press and fans asked him to reveal exactly what the real Julia Child was like in person. Those in search of a juicy story most likely hoped to unearth tales of a misanthropic madwoman who hurled pots and pans at kitchen assistants, or hear stories of a prima donna who lazed about conceitedly watching reruns of her own programs while kitchen slaves served her coq au vin and croquembouche on a tray emblazoned with her image. Russ, who was not only her director but also her good friend, was in a better position than most to know, and he gave the true and definitive, succinct and explicit answerâ"wysiwyg." It may sound like a word from Lewis Carroll's "Jabberwocky," but don't reach for the dictionary. Wysiwyg is not a word. The letters stand for "what you see is what you get." And that's the truth of it. Julia was just as down-to-earth, unpretentious, and unselfconsciously outspoken in the company of friends as she was with the cameras rolling. She was just as humorous and deliciously quirky. The real Julia Child was right there to see, whether you watched her on a TV screen or sat next to her at the dinner table. She was always Julia.
To say that Julia was always the same person does not mean that she was without depth or breadth. There were many prismatic dimensions to her personality, many layers. Discovering those layers did not require a special guidebook or road map. You only had to spend time with her. And I was getting to do just that.
If I had to describe my working association with Julia, I would say that at first it was gradual, and then it was simply all of a sudden. When she made me executive chef at GMA, she also asked me to assist her at a few of the many demonstrations that she gave on a regular basis to promote her own work and to raise funds for charitable organizations. That meant traveling with her and seeing her out of the public light. Then Julia offered me another job. In 1981, she gave up her McCall's column and accepted an offer to be the food editor for Parade, the popular Sunday newspaper insert. Her monthly features were much more elaborate than her column had been and they would reach a much wider audience, a fact that greatly appealed to her. Parade shot the photos for the first series of "From Julia Child's Kitchen" in Santa Barbara, California, where Julia and Paul had just purchased a condominium. Julia worked it out with Parade to have the shoots take place on whichever coast she and Paul were living at the scheduled time, and she asked me to serve as her executive chef for the East Coast team when she shot the next series in Cambridge in the spring of 1982.
Up until Parade, Julia and I had communicated primarily by phone or mail, but when our work became more involved, she suggested I come up to Cambridge to go over things with her. There I observed my first at-home, in-person Julia-isms.
Actually, the first was before I even got there. We were on the phone working out the time I should be there, and she asked me how long it took me to drive from Providence to Cambridge. I told her that the drive should take a little over an hour, depending on traffic.
"Well, how do you go?" she asked.
I described my route. "That's all wrong," she said. "You have to take the little eekie off Memorial before the garden center and then the eekie off Kirkland before the fire station."
"Uh, is Eekie the name of a street?" I asked, thoroughly confused.
No, it was the term Paul and Julia gave to the shortcuts they used that resulted in the quickest drive to their 103 Irving Street home. On my one previous trip to her house, with a reliable map as my guide, I made turns onto
Chapter 4
My advice to you is not to inquire why or whither, but just enjoy your ice cream while it's on your plateâthat's my philosophy.
âThornton Wilder, The Skin of Our Teeth
Wysiwyg. That's what Russ Morash said when members of the press and fans asked him to reveal exactly what the real Julia Child was like in person. Those in search of a juicy story most likely hoped to unearth tales of a misanthropic madwoman who hurled pots and pans at kitchen assistants, or hear stories of a prima donna who lazed about conceitedly watching reruns of her own programs while kitchen slaves served her coq au vin and croquembouche on a tray emblazoned with her image. Russ, who was not only her director but also her good friend, was in a better position than most to know, and he gave the true and definitive, succinct and explicit answerâ"wysiwyg." It may sound like a word from Lewis Carroll's "Jabberwocky," but don't reach for the dictionary. Wysiwyg is not a word. The letters stand for "what you see is what you get." And that's the truth of it. Julia was just as down-to-earth, unpretentious, and unselfconsciously outspoken in the company of friends as she was with the cameras rolling. She was just as humorous and deliciously quirky. The real Julia Child was right there to see, whether you watched her on a TV screen or sat next to her at the dinner table. She was always Julia.
To say that Julia was always the same person does not mean that she was without depth or breadth. There were many prismatic dimensions to her personality, many layers. Discovering those layers did not require a special guidebook or road map. You only had to spend time with her. And I was getting to do just that.
If I had to describe my working association with Julia, I would say that at first it was gradual, and then it was simply all of a sudden. When she made me executive chef at GMA, she also asked me to assist her at a few of the many demonstrations that she gave on a regular basis to promote her own work and to raise funds for charitable organizations. That meant traveling with her and seeing her out of the public light. Then Julia offered me another job. In 1981, she gave up her McCall's column and accepted an offer to be the food editor for Parade, the popular Sunday newspaper insert. Her monthly features were much more elaborate than her column had been and they would reach a much wider audience, a fact that greatly appealed to her. Parade shot the photos for the first series of "From Julia Child's Kitchen" in Santa Barbara, California, where Julia and Paul had just purchased a condominium. Julia worked it out with Parade to have the shoots take place on whichever coast she and Paul were living at the scheduled time, and she asked me to serve as her executive chef for the East Coast team when she shot the next series in Cambridge in the spring of 1982.
Up until Parade, Julia and I had communicated primarily by phone or mail, but when our work became more involved, she suggested I come up to Cambridge to go over things with her. There I observed my first at-home, in-person Julia-isms.
Actually, the first was before I even got there. We were on the phone working out the time I should be there, and she asked me how long it took me to drive from Providence to Cambridge. I told her that the drive should take a little over an hour, depending on traffic.
"Well, how do you go?" she asked.
I described my route. "That's all wrong," she said. "You have to take the little eekie off Memorial before the garden center and then the eekie off Kirkland before the fire station."
"Uh, is Eekie the name of a street?" I asked, thoroughly confused.
No, it was the term Paul and Julia gave to the shortcuts they used that resulted in the quickest drive to their 103 Irving Street home. On my one previous trip to her house, with a reliable map as my guide, I made turns onto
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