My own associations with Julia Child are, for lack of a better word, dicey. It seems like everyone heavily interested in food or cooking has their own story that can one-up the other person’s. Well, there will be no one-upping here.
I was taken by her from as far back as I can remember. Before even reaching proper manhood, and I was already obsessed – with her cooking, her demeanor and positive vibe, and her genuine love of all things food. I spent many childhood years trying, or pretending rather, to cook like Julia. I was too young to wield a proper kitchen knife, let alone even attempt to prepare one of her recipes. I merely loved to watch her.
My unhealthy early-childhood preoccupation with Julia Child even spilled over into my social life. When other children wanted to come over to my house and watch afternoon cartoons, instead of He-Man or Thundercats, I always insisted on watching Julia Child’s cooking shows on PBS. I was a total brat, and needless to say, this self-imposed social alienation didn’t go over so well with the superhero crowds. Many potential childhood friends were lost over the years, I’m sure.
As I grew older however, my once pronounced compulsion to be like Julia Child unfortunately eroded a bit. In fact, I’d say dormant until just in the past 5-10 years, when my no-boundary love for all things food re-emerged so strongly. Her affable and honest personality made her a magnet for both food snobs and philistines alike – she alienated no one. Though I am regretful that she isn’t still around to follow in real-time anymore, I know she lives on in my smelly, used collection of her famous cookbooks. And of course, thankfully PBS still plays re-runs.
Do you have a Julia story of your own? It’s not hard to one-up me.