{no, not delia. julia.}

You know, it still strikes me as odd that the people I cooked and ate with for five years in Scotland had no idea who Julia Child might be.

The Village @ Studio City, LA, has a drink named after her – The Honey Child. The Weeks Rose Growers named a golden floribunda after her. Multiple children bear her name – not the least New York Times food writer Julia Moskin. She is a household name, having been on TV since – sheesh, the 60’s. She’s been in syndication on public broadcasting stations, parodied and taken pride in by generations of us who couldn’t halfway boil water, but were pleased to think of her as our very own. Maybe since her death in 2004, you might be able to say, “Julia Child,” and be rewarded with a “who?” from kids fifteen and under, but many – dare I say most? – have at least heard the name.

However, when I brought her up in the UK, people would inevitably say, “Julia? Oh, you mean Delia.” Um, no, I did not. I had no idea who Delia was, much to the consternation of my Scottish friends. For the record, Delia is Delia Smith, a household name in Britain… who has published just as many cookbooks as our St. Ju, and has been on TV off and on since the 70’s, and … somehow never crossed the pond in any meaningful way. (She lacks Nigella Lawson’s flamboyant ingredients [edible gold, anyone?] as well as her eyelash batting and plunging necklines.) Her focus was no-nonsense British cooking, and her goal was to make her nation take its cuisine seriously, even as St. Julia’s goal was to help Americans understand that French cooking wasn’t all that hard.

Neither of them probably really succeeded. But, I love that St. Julia tried.

Most people don’t cook from Julia’s The Art of French Cooking much – not with kids and classes and things to do that don’t lend themselves to long prep times and fiddly whisking and such. For myself, I just don’t have the space and tools, not being in my own home. But I look forward to fussing again in my mind about whether I should use white or black pepper (an argument she and Jacque Pepin had frequently), or making her perfectly crusty French bread, savory deviled eggs, or other such simple, toothsome treats. Her books aren’t difficult, only orderly and precise, and I think we gain a lot from precision. Even so, the best thing about Julia Child is that she didn’t take herself too seriously. If you blow it, clean up and try again. That’s a good worldview, the one that worked best for Lainey in A LA CARTE.

She figured out what she wanted to do with her life in her forties, picked up her whisk, and never stopped rhapsodizing on the foods and the culture she loved. We should all be so lucky.

As she said, “Life itself is the proper binge.” Bon appétit , St. Julia.

4 Replies to “{no, not delia. julia.}”

  1. I love Julia’s outlook and the way she kept living hard right through her life. She didn’t make age a reason not to keep striving and trying and growing. I endeavor to be like that and to be positive and approach each day with joy. That Julia’s just so hopeful.

    Jama, Julia’s kitchen is AMAZING. I loved it so much, I visited it twice the last time I was in DC–just stared and stared at it.

  2. Lovely post! I bought a Delia Smith cookbook when I lived in London and have made quite a few things from it — great shepherd’s pie and a good chicken risotto — but since there were no photos in the book or on the cover, I still don’t quite know what Delia looks like.

    The outpouring of Julia love on the web has been amazing — somewhere Julia is smiling down on all of us who’ve made recipes in her honor, shared memories and lessons learned. I’m looking forward to visiting her kitchen exhibit at the Smithsonian soon. 🙂

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