Appetite for Life

by Noel Riley Fitch

  The initial differences in writing this new book were several and went far beyond the fact that they no longer sent a carbon of their work to Louisette. Julia, who always did all the typing, had Gladys, her secretary, who could type up the final double-spaced recipes in the form already worked out in the first volume. They also had a book to work against; even basic techniques were already explained in the first volume. Now, however, there was the bread recipe and more desserts, which were Simca’s specialty.

  Julia was frustrated earlier in Plascassier when she was not satisfied with the chocolate cake recipe Simca chose. Julia had brought the chocolate from the States, but Simca did not test it fully, she believed. In Cambridge, Julia invited a chemist from Nestle to come for lunch and talk about the chemical composition, cocoa butter content, and melting methods of their chocolate. Americans made the mistake of melting chocolate in a pan with boiling (not simmering) water under it. She worked and reworked the directions herself. She also hated the pound cake (le quatre quarts), “a heavy horrid cake and not my idea of good French cooking.”

  The temperamental and philosophical differences between Julia and Simca both aided their joint work and created frequent friction. Julia’s approach was evident in a letter she wrote to Simca: “I shall also take notes on every method of pâté-en-croûte making that I run into—I am sure this drives you crazy, but it is the only way I can work—I want to know everything, and why, and what’s no good and why, so then when our master recipe is done there are no unsolved questions.” Simca, Paul told Charlie, “seldom subjects anything to operational proof [and] lives in a totally verbal world.” Earlier he wrote that she “roars through life like a hurricane, smashing her way toward her goals.” Of course, he added, that is the quality that got her house renovated, her trees planted, her cooking school up and running. In a contrasting view, Jane Owen Molard, who worked with Simca in the 1980s, says, “Julia and Simca were much alike. They both had busy exteriors but calm centers.”

  In the lengthy report Avis DeVoto wrote to William Koshland the previous Christmas season in Provence, she made the following observations about the culinary “sisters”: “Simca is a creative genius … [but] also inaccurate, illogical, hard to pin down, and stubborn as a mule. Julia is also very creative and is becoming more so. But the two women think differently. Julia is deeply logical, orderly, accurate, painstaking, patient, determined to get all this knowledge clearly on paper. And she can be just as stubborn as Simca is, and will plug away trying to convince Simca until suddenly Simca changes her position, and from then on she will talk as if it were her own idea all along.”

  Paul did not like Simca’s bossy, know-it-all attitude; it “drives me up the wall,” he confided to Charlie. But Julia would not countenance anyone criticizing Simca. Angry one day, Paul wrote the following indictment: “Simca pays no attention to anything Julia tells her about all the researches she’s done, the findings of the U.S. Dept. of Agriculture, or the careful scientific comparison she’s made between the various commercial starches based on corn, rice, potatoes, etc. She drives me nuts.” At Julia’s insistence, he added at the bottom of the letter: “An impurely personal opinion, resented by Julia, who asked me to change it. I can’t; but she has tremendous value, is a real half of the combination which I may not have made clear.”

  If Paul and Simca sometimes got along just for the sake of Julia, probably the same could be said of Paul and Jean. The hearty French chemist would immediately put on his blue work coveralls and boots when he came to Bramafam and putter around the property, in sharp contrast to the well-dressed Paul, who was preoccupied by his painting and photography. The Fischbachers and Thibaults thought Paul could be moody and distant. He in turn thought they sometimes treated foreigners disdainfully.

  Julia and Simca were loyal to each other out of respect and love. Like sisters, they argued and made up. Julia believed Simca distrusted the scientific approach, in part because she lacked formal higher education and was ruled by her emotions and instinct. When Julia was testing for the perfect crust for their pâté en croûte, she informed Avis she did not think Simca was the least interested in her research. “I don’t think she believes in it.” Paul said she was “a mountain of unscientific instinctiveness.” He had even harsher words in other letters to Charlie. In several of Julia’s letters to Simca it is clear that Julia is urging her to experiment, to visit local bakers. Many years later, Julia would be more frank about the dogmatism of Simca, imitating Simca’s loud “non, non, non” at the top of her voice.

  When Simca reported that in a brief visit to the master bread maker Calvel he let his dough rise only once, Julia wrote back that in his book he specifies twice. All her experiments proved that the dough must rise twice: “Kneading by the usual system forces the gluten molecules to stick together so that the starch and yeast molecules will be dispersed intimately among them, and then the yeast forms little pockets of gas which push up the gluten network; a pushing down and second rise disperses the yeast into new starch pockets, and these in turn make the gluten network more fine.” And so on. Simca was probably asleep by that point.

  THE LOUISETTE PURCHASE

  Originally Julia and Simca assumed that Louisette’s name would be on Volume II. Though she was not involved at any point in the book, she was still a part of L’Ecole des Trois Gourmandes, though she did little teaching at the Paris school with Simca anymore. She and her new husband, Henri, were now settling permanently in Vouzeron, in the center of France. Beyond initiating the first book, she did next to nothing; including her name on the second would have been giving credit and money where it was not due. Moreover, she no longer got along with Simca.

  Julia and Paul decided earlier they needed to create a will protecting their growing assets from television and publishing and to set up a system by which Julia herself would not have to send the royalty checks to her partners. Julia also realized, after talking with Bill Koshland at Knopf and the lawyers of WGBH, that she had to determine the ownership of recipes, which were mixed up between television, newspapers, and books. She was facing the complications of two new contracts. Typically, Julia and Paul wanted “absolute order” in their financial affairs. They hired Brooks Beck the same week Paul boasted he made his twenty-first batch of bread.

  Beck, of the Hill & Barlow law firm in Boston, was no Wall Street lawyer type, but a handsome man of great culture and humor, a real character with a bit of an acid tongue. Not incidentally, he was a member of their Cambridge circle of respected associates. They had met, after all, at a DeVoto party, and his wife, Wendy, was an editor at the Atlantic Monthly Press. Julia was particularly impressed that Beck represented two of their neighbors, Arthur Schlesinger, Jr., and John Kenneth Galbraith.

  Beck’s first response was that he thought the two women should buy out Louisette Bertholle (an offer of even $25,000 would be a lot of money for someone who was doing nothing), and that Julia should no longer act as comptroller. He warned about the tax consequences in both countries, but untangling the issues would take months. Their next royalty payment was held up until this issue could be resolved, and in the interim Simca and Louisette eventually got their own lawyers. Julia warned her partners about the tax implications and was relieved when she learned Simca was declaring something to the French authorities.

  When Julia casually mentioned to Louisette the idea of buying out her share of the partnership (the book was copyrighted, but they were never able to copyright the cooking school), Louisette sounded interested. But no official offer was made because they believed she would demand too much money (she mentioned to Julia she was thinking of about $45,000). She had already earned $33,000 in royalties for Mastering I, and any buyout of her 18 percent would come out of the advance for the second volume. Thus, they held up signing any contract with Knopf for their second volume until the question of Louisette could be resolved. Brooks Beck suggested they hold up making any offer to Louisette, who by December informed Simca she would sell all right
s for $30,000.

  Neither Jean Fischbacher nor Paul Child wanted to damage the trust between Simca and Julia, so they let their lawyers handle everything. Julia and Paul were anxious to settle their estate, which was to be left to their nieces and nephews. The only matter remaining to be cleared up—and this involved Louisette—was the issue of copyright to the book and partnership. By February 1968 the papers were signed.

  In the matter of royalties for Julia’s book of television recipes, The French Chef Cookbook, she initially spoke about sharing the royalties, but her lawyer must have thought otherwise. Simca agreed (though her lawyer initially held out) that Julia should have the copyright and all royalties on that book because, though some recipes were taken (and changed) from their first book, Julia’s television and promotion made an appreciable difference in the sales of Mastering I, which doubled, then tripled, after the television program began, and leapt after the Time cover. On the television work she perhaps broke even; thus her only compensation for seven-day workweeks came from book sales. (The first and only time Julia mentioned this issue to Simca was in a letter dated October 18, 1967.) There was no question that the difference between the 1,000 books they sold the first month and the 3,000 books they were selling every month now, was Julia Child.

  Finally, by the spring of 1968 the contract between the lawyers for Simca and Julia was settled and signed. Two complications were involved. Julia wanted her payments from Knopf to be set at a low enough figure to make her tax bracket more reasonable, and Julia and Simca had to work out the complications of their disproportionate expenditures of time and money (Julia did all the typing, proofreading, arrangements for drawings, and appearances). Finally, Julia bought sole rights to the first volume from Simca, and they shared the second volume, with Julia as the agent who kept track of expenses. By March 1969, Mastering had sold 600,000 copies, with Simca and Julia already making back half of what Julia called their “Louisette Purchase.”

  The pressure of time involved in Julia’s numerous appearances led to Paul’s decision to take to the air. He had always broken into cold sweats and relived memories of treacherous flying in China when faced with the idea of plane flight, but he determinedly conquered his vertigo by applying the practical sense and the logic he always lived by. No more transatlantic voyages on the Queen Mary.

  DINING AND DIPLOMACY:

  FILMING AT THE WHITE HOUSE

  Just before flying down to film a documentary on the White House kitchens for WGBH, Julia opened her door to the French consul general, who came to pin the green ribbon and bronze star of France’s Médaille de Mérite Agricole on her dress and kiss her on both cheeks. “We don’t know whether to laugh, or be proud, at this backhanded gesture from the government for which she has done so much,” Paul wrote to Charlie. Nevertheless, half a dozen friends celebrated with champagne, Time magazine reported. The Smith Alumnae Quarterly proudly announced that the green ribbon now rested beside the cordon bleu. What Julia did not know was that a Smith College committee turned down an effort by several alumnae to award her an honorary degree that year.

  “Dinner and Diplomacy” (the initial title) was conceived when a plan by WGBH for a documentary on the French Chef in Paris (featuring Les Halles, which were closing down) fell through due to a lack of funding. In August 1967 they proposed making a color documentary of how the White House kitchens operate, what equipment they use, the staff, marketing, even menu planning. Ruth Lockwood, with contacts through her journalist son, did all the preliminary work with Liz Carpenter and her assistant, Mrs. Poulain. There would be several trips to Washington as the arrangements were made and the date moved several times. Julia and Paul flew down in August, September, and October; first it was going to be a dinner for the King and Queen of Nepal, then one for the Japanese Prime Minister.

  President and Mrs. Lyndon B. Johnson honored her with an invitation to be a part of the state dinner on November 14, 1967, for the Prime Minister of Japan. Originally, the program for educational television was to be a study of the kitchen and behind-the-scenes of a state dinner, but now Julia and Paul were honored guests and the film crew would be allowed in the dining room (with releases from everyone).

  Julia thought the meal exquisite: vol-au-vent of seafood, noisettes of lamb, artichoke choron, white asparagus polonais, a garden salad, cheeses, and strawberry Yamaguchi (a tart). Three wines were poured: Wente Pinot Chardonnay, Beaulieu Cabernet Sauvignon, and Almadén Blanc de Blanc (with no vintages given on the menu, Paul noted with amazement).

  Julia and Paul were sitting next to Vice President and Mrs. Hubert Humphrey, and Julia found him delightful (“I’ve always liked him, but didn’t realize how thoroughly warm and attractive he is,” she informed Avis). Paul was pleased to get reacquainted with Professor S. I. Hayakawa, whom he had met in Germany and with whom he had spent a week studying just two years before. Because the Japanese guest (His Excellency Eisaku Sato) was crazy about baseball, the commissioner of baseball was there, as were a pitcher from the St. Louis Cardinals and George Steinbrenner. Maxwell Taylor, John D. Rockefeller IV, cabinet ministers, and other dignitaries rounded out the 190-guest list.

  Julia had a wonderful time meeting the President and the other distinguished guests, but she was just as excited to meet Swiss chef Haller and his pastry chef, Ferdinand Louvat, a Frenchman (“Loved the two chefs, and being able to talk shop in French with them was a great help to us,” Julia wrote Simca). And she talked at length to Mary Kaltman, the food coordinator and housekeeping director. These professionals were people she respected enormously. Originally the program was going to be called “Behind the Scenes at the White House Banquet.”

  She was also excited to work with her old crew from The French Chef. Russ Morash was the director, Peter the Dutchman operated the one handheld camera, and Willie was the sound engineer. The script, written by a professional but lacking in dignity, they believed, was rewritten around the Child kitchen table by Ruth, Paul, and Julia. This program would not be live, but edited by a professional (with assistance from Ruth and Russ) and shown on American educational television, now called the Public Broadcasting Company, the following April (Julia would have to come back from La Pitchoune to do the voice-overs).

  “The White House Red Carpet,” its final title, began with the doors of the White House opening and visitors streaming in. The camera panned down the line of guests to pick up Julia Child, the narrator, who informed the audience that 40,000 people a week enter the White House. Later, in the video’s flashbacks, the Prime Minister of Japan deplaned and Julia interviewed James Symington, the protocol officer, and chef Henri Haller in the kitchens of the White House.

  Ruth Lockwood told Bill Koshland that it “was a nerve-wracking experience, but as usual Julia was relaxed and lovely.” Indeed, her only worry was what dress and shoes to wear. She was used to being on television with her sneakers on. Ruth helped her choose the shoes and dress—Paul called it rainbow-colored. She wore the wig. Lady Bird Johnson wore a gold draped chiffon gown by Adele Simpson, and Tony Bennett entertained with songs after the banquet.

  This was Julia’s first White House experience (“splendid,” she said, “neither of us shall ever forget it”). During this first visit she thought briefly about what it would have been like with the Kennedys, but concluded, “The food could not have been any better.” This White House dinner would remain her most memorable, not because she was “a Roosevelt Democrat at home, an Acheson Democrat abroad” (as one journalist observed), but because of the food. She admired Henri Haller and thought that the service and organization of the evening was elegant. The servers were professional staff, black men who had worked in the White House for years and served with quiet flair, “like clockwork.” Thirty years later, after visiting during two other administrations, she would tell a Boston University audience that “the food was great” at the Johnson dinner. Otherwise the “culinary reputation [of the White House] is dreary indeed.” Gerald Ford’s people were uneasy about th
e pomp and show—fearful of spending the taxpayers’ money—so the state dinner Julia attended was cheap, the food undistinguished, the service sloppy. The Reagan White House served chipped beef, cream cheese, green mayonnaise, veal madeleine in dough, and a platter of purple sorbet with canned peaches.

  Julia was also quick to point out that WGBH’s tribute was to the White House, not to the Johnson administration. “We were there … at the height of anti-Johnsonism and the attitudes in Cambridge Mass were quite frightening—making me realize that academics are too seldom intellectuals!” she wrote to Ellie and Basil Summers the following spring, when the video was played. She and Paul could not drive through Harvard Square without seeing the Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) carrying pickets reading: “Napalm—Johnson’s Baby Powder,” for the atmosphere at the university was “chaotic” and “somber.” She and Paul were also opposed to the war in Vietnam, but she thought the protest “has really pulled the country to pieces.” She mentioned “pride in the White House” on the video, and, fortunately, the political landscape would change before the spring to make their film more acceptable.

  The morning after the state dinner, they taped more interviews for their documentary before flying to New York to catch the night plane to Nice, via Paris. Soon they were lounging on the terrace beside the purple bougainvillea and smelling the jasmine. Watching Jeanne pick olives to take to the local press, they thought only of the five months in France ahead of them and the completion of the book.

  Page proofs for Michael Field and M. F. K. Fisher’s Time-Life book had been delivered to the plane as they left, and proofs of her own The French Chef Cookbook arrived in December. She corrected “plenty” of errors in both manuscripts. “America is beginning to fade,” she wrote Avis after just a week in La Pitchoune.