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As Always, Julia Edited by Joan Reardon
As Always, Julia Edited by Joan Reardon
LWAY
The Let S, JU
ters of
JULIA LIA
C HILD &
AV I S D
EVOTO
Food, Frien
dship & the
Making of
EDIT
ED a Masterpi
BY Joan
Reard
on ece
As Always, Julia
The Letters of Julia Child and Avis DeVoto
D
FO O D, F R IEN DSHIP, A N D T H E M A K IN G
O F A M A ST ER PIECE
www.hmhbooks.com
The letters of Julia Child are used with the permission of the Julia Child Founda-
tion for Gastronomy and the Culinary Arts.
The letters of Avis DeVoto are used with the permission of Mark DeVoto.
The letters of Julia Child and Avis DeVoto are courtesy of the Schlesinger Li-
brary, Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study, Harvard University, from the fol-
lowing collections: Avis DeVoto Papers and Julia Child Papers.
pages vi, 175, 343: © The Julia Child Foundation for Gastronomy and the Culinary
Arts; photographs by Paul Child; used by permission.
page 31: photograph by C. H. Dykeman; courtesy Mark DeVoto.
pages 254, 336: Rigmore Delphin, Alle Kvinners Blad.
All other photographs © Paul Child and used by permission of the Schlesinger Li-
brary, Radcliffe Institute, Harvard University.
PA RT O N E — 1952–1954
valued the importance the French placed on métier (skill). Propelled by her
enthusiasm, she began a formal culinary education at Le Cordon Bleu in
1949 and sought out friends who thought about food the way she did. She
met Simone “Simca” Beck, a Parisian who was well versed in the cuisines
of Normandy, Alsace, and Provence, at a party for embassy personnel. The
two clicked immediately and began to discuss food and “how to make a
valid professional project out of it.” When Simca and her friend Louisette
Bertholle urged Julia to join Le Cercle des Gourmettes, an exclusive wom-
en’s club started in the late 1920s, Julia was delighted. The three women
often arrived hours before the scheduled Gourmettes’ luncheon to assist
the chef of the day in what they considered a private cooking lesson.
Cooking in tandem became a heady experience. So in January 1952,
when a handful of Julia’s American friends who either lived in Paris or
were on holiday asked her to teach them something about French cook-
ing, she persuaded Simca and Louisette to join her in organizing classes
in a venture that came to be known as L’École des Trois Gourmandes.
The three women taught twice a week. Julia organized the lesson plans
and typed the recipes. The format included two hours of instruction and
hands-on cooking, after which everyone sat down to a leisurely meal in
the Childs’ dining room, with Paul selecting the wines.
Teaching cooking classes together soon led to writing a cookbook to-
gether. A few years earlier, after Louisette returned to France from a visit
to the United States, she and Simca had submitted about six hundred
recipes for a book to be published by the New York publishing house Ives
Washburn. The head of the house, Sumner Putnam, had hired a transla-
tor/writer named Helmut Ripperger to prepare some of the recipes for a
small spiral-bound book called What’s Cooking in France, which was pub-
lished early in 1952 but not widely promoted. Ripperger was not interested
in working on a much larger cookbook, no contract was negotiated, and
the project stalled.
Simca and Louisette turned to Julia to help them realize their plan to
publish their big book. Although reluctant at first, Julia soon recognized
the benefits of the project, which presented an opportunity to test and re-
6 As Always, Julia
fine recipes and “translate the genuine taste of French cooking into Amer-
ican.” Julia also knew that simply being an American might give her an
advantage in dealing with U.S. publishers, and she began to question the
wisdom of publishing the book with Ives Washburn. In the fall of 1952, she
requested that all of the material already sent to Putnam be returned for
translation and editing. Then she, Simca, and Louisette began to outline
the tentatively titled “French Cooking for All” and discuss its scope. They
told Ives Washburn that they wanted the manuscript published in a se-
quence of five individual volumes.
Meanwhile, Julia sent the first draft of the book to Avis, who im-
mediately saw its potential and communicated her enthusiasm to Julia,
along with the advice to extricate the project from Ives Washburn. Avis
was an enterprising cook who knew how rare it was to find shallots even
in the specialty shops of Cambridge and understood that there were lim-
ited places where an American cook could find a variety of herbs. She
quickly became Julia’s stateside adviser on ingredients, utensils, and the
preferences of American cooks, as well as a valuable sounding board for
Julia’s staunch liberalism, ambition, and occasional insecurity.
Because Houghton Mifflin was her husband’s publisher, Avis knew
the staff at the venerable Boston publishing house, and she contacted her
friend Dorothy de Santillana, senior editor there. De Santillana instinc-
tively knew that this technique-focused cookbook was unlike the Amer-
icanized French recipes that were being offered in women’s magazines
and upscale cookbooks. She was interested.
In the following early letters between Julia and Avis, the latest vic-
tims of Senator Joseph McCarthy’s Communist witch hunt get equal time
with experiments on beurre blanc. Avis’s accounts of forays into the West
and excitement over Democrat Adlai Stevenson’s 1952 presidential cam-
paign cross paths with Julia’s descriptions of the catch at the Old Port in
Marseille, where Paul was posted in 1953. (“What luck for us,” Julia says. “It
could have been AbbisAbabababa.”) Family members are introduced, and
recipes are discussed at length.
Based on de Santillana’s assessment of the manuscript and Avis’s
All from One Kitchen Knife 7
are a number of small manufacturers who are quietly turning out excel-
lent carbon steel knifes at reasonable prices, though where they are sold
I cannot tell, as the American housewife wants stainless steel and that’s
what the retailers give her. A butchers’ supply house seems to be the
answer, and one of these houses in Kansas City sent us a boning knife,
which sounds like your flexible fish filleter — a wonderful knife. The
best value of all is a set made by the Goodell Company in Antrim, New
Hampshire — long slicer, short chef ’s knife, boning knife, paring knife,
pot-roast fork, plus a magna-grip to hold them on the wall — it retails
for $7.95. This set restored our faith in American industry, and my hard-
ware man at Harvard Square now stocks them and they sell like hot-
cakes.
Since you are on your way to becoming an expert in these matters,
I wish you would tell me how you sharpen your knives. Steel, hone, or
what? I haven’t mastered the hone, though if I ever get time I mean to
practice until I have learned to do it correctly. I do use a steel frequently,
but I find that once a year or so my knives need a trip to a really good
professional who grinds them very gently and then finishes with a hone.
The New Yorker last week spoke highly of a sharpener called the Emmons
Rifle which has been made in Connecticut for a hundred and fifty years
and sells for all of ninety-five cents. It’s a fourteen inch paddle covered
with some special Turkish emery — I have sent for one but it hasn’t come
yet. Most patent sharpeners are death on knifes, I find — especially the
kind that give a sharp edge but remove ribbons of steel in the process. Of
course you are right in thinking that lots of women are terrified of sharp
knives — but once having used a good one I don’t see how they can go
back to hacking and mashing.
We have learned a tremendous lot this last year on the cutlery ques-
tion, and sometime DeVoto is going to write another piece on the sub-
ject. We want to visit some of the manufacturers first — at Antrim, and at
Southbridge and Ayer, Massachusetts, where Dexter and Murphy make
fine knives. We are even working our way through a six-volume affair
called La Coutellerie Depuis l’Origine Jusqu’à Nos Jours, by a gent named
Pagé, but since it was written before the invention of stainless steel, it
won’t be much help except to show off our learning to the enemy, who
probably won’t be impressed.
Thanks again for the knife, which is a little gem. My husband, I re-
gret to say, has snitched it for his own use — cutting the lemon peel the
proper thinness for the six o’clock Martini — but it will be mine while he
10 As Always, Julia
is in California. We are both pleased that you like the Easy Chair,* and we
both enjoyed hearing from you.
Sincerely —
Avis W. DeVoto
I suppose one method will be the slow but sure one of the home econom-
ics courses, such as Life wrote up several weeks ago.
As to knife sharpening, I am no expert. My husband, who is a one-
man art factory, goes over them once in a while with a soap stone (car-
borundum with oil); and I keep an edge on them with a big steel fusil. I
have once this year taken them all to a professional, who did a beautiful
job, but I did feel he took off quite a bit of steel. However, I don’t ex-
pect them to last a life time, I just want them to cut well. I don’t know
anything about hones. The next time I have the “man” sharpen them, I
will hover over him, and report what he does. I think he has a mechanical
wheel, and also a hand stone. Would be interested to hear how you like
the Emmons Rifle, and what it is.
You mentioned French cream. I think the difference between theirs
and ours is how the separator is set. In theirs, the separator is set so that
what comes out of the “other” spout is practically water, which is given
to the pigs or thrown away. So it, the cream, is a most concentrated thick
mass. And what you get is “whole cream.” Some of it they make but-
ter out of, the rest is sold as “crème fraîche.” And they don’t put it un-
der refrigeration, so it gets that slightly sour taste. I wonder if one took
US cream and put it through a separator one wouldn’t get the same re-
sult. You could always get a richer flavor to your sauces by “buttering
them up,” i.e., after the sauce is off the heat, beat in bits of butter, a bit at
a time; but never reheat to even under the boil again or the sauce will thin
out or the butter will release itself. And you could get a slight sour by a
few drops of lemon juice.
Have been only once to Le Bossu, and had neither of the two dishes
you mentioned. Scrambled Eggs, French, they do not scramble them as
long as we do; the eggs remain in a soft broken custard, rather than in
flakes. Done over very low heat, almost like a Hollandaise, stirred con-
stantly until they “custard.” A bit of butter beaten in at the end will add
richness. Tarragon could be chopped up with the butter, and so impreg-
nate itself.
Veau à la Crème, à l’Estragon (a method). Heat butter in pan until it
has foamed and is just turning blonde. Sauté the veal, about 2 minutes on
each side. Salt and pepper it. Stir in minced shallots. Pour in some brandy,
set it aflame, let burn ½ minute and cover pan. Pour in a bit of white wine
(dry) and some good reduced meat stock. Sprinkle in ½ your tarragon
(chopped). Cover pan and let stew about 5 minutes. Uncover pan, turn up
heat, let sauce reduce. Add heavy cream, and let that reduce. Sprinkle in
12 As Always, Julia
fresh herbs before serving. The veal shouldn’t be overcooked, and all of
this shouldn’t take more than 15 minutes.
Mr. DeVoto’s article on the hopelessly antediluvian monsters that
Eisenhower will face in Congress* is a most sobering thought piece. But I
want the Republicans in anyway; they need to “grow up” to their respon-
sibilities. I have faith that the nation is strong enough to withstand them
and to teach them, though my faith is not without dreadful qualms.
Mon mari se joint à moi, chère madame, en vous priant d’accepter,
vous et votre mari, l’expression de nos meilleurs voeux,†
Julia Child
(Mrs. Paul Child)
8 Berkeley Street
Cambridge 38, Massachusetts
may 30, 1952
Dear Mrs. Child:
The knife has come and it is a dream — I am somewhat overwhelmed by
your kindness. I have not used it yet but I expect it will perform nobly — I
want to try it first on a fish. In about two weeks my twelve-year-old son
and I move down to the shore for the summer, and if he can’t catch what
passes for sole in those waters (flounder), he can provide me with a mack-
erel. But I think the knife will also be very good for vegetables — it really
is a joy to use knives like the two you sent me. They are as easy as possi-
ble to sharpen with a steel. Some of my best American knives are hell to
sharpen, especially the hollow-ground ones. Hollow-ground is a hollow
fraud — it may be fine for razors but in the kitchen it is perfectly useless.
Of course I know the Flint knives whose pretty picture you sent
me, and I have a fine specimen. As I think I told you, these stainless steel
knives, the expensive ones, hold an edge for quite a long time compared
with a carbon steel knife, but it is practically impossible to sharpen them
at home as the steel is too hard and too brittle. I have been faithfully using
the Frozen Heat knives sent me by Emerson Case,‡ because I promised
him I would, but they weren’t as sharp as your two knives to begin with.
Funny thing happened with one of those Robeson knives. I had an extra
* Eisenhower hoped to win over the isolationist Republicans in Congress to an internationalist ap-
proach.
† “My husband joins me, dear lady, in hoping that you and your husband will accept the expression of
our best wishes.”
‡ Case, president of Robeson Cutlery Company in Rochester, New York, developed a process for heat-
treating stainless steel blades to make them harder that he called Frozen Heat.
All from One Kitchen Knife 13
one, roast carving size, sent me by the then president of Macy’s last sum-
mer, but when Mr. Case sent me two of his sets I gave this odd knife to
my part-time cook. Mary never abuses a knife; she has been too well in-
doctrinated by the DeVotos. But she was slicing an onion on a board one
night at home and the Robeson knife was suddenly in two neat pieces.
I sent it back to Mr. Case in great glee, and he replaced it at once since
those knives are guaranteed for a lifetime, no less, but he has still not ex-
plained why or how it could possibly have happened. In all my days I
have never had a knife come apart in my hands, even when digging dan-
delions out of the lawn.
Of course there is nothing I would like better than to come and look
at French knife factories — except possibly go to England which is the
great love of my life. But, fat chance. Or rather, there is about one chance
in a million, because there is a vague deal on foot which would bring both
the DeVoto’s to France for a month or more to take a long look at French
industry and the plan Schuman.* I really doubt if this will come off, and
DeVoto takes a dim view of it anyway, since he has always been oriented
West like a homing pigeon and indeed has just returned from a six week’s
trip to California, Oregon, Utah, Colorado, as you will duly read in
Harpers. However, I can dream, and the powers that are talking about this
trip can easily deal with such minor matters as transportation in a summer
when all space is at a premium. I am very superstitious about this possibil-
ity however, so don’t mention it to anyone at all.
The Emmons Rifle is not anywhere as good as Sheila Hibben† says it
is, or perhaps I have not mastered its use. I am mastering the hone or car-
borundum stone, but I use my steel every day. I have an absolute beauty,
a French import sent to me by a butcher’s supply house in Kansas City.
Recipes noted, and many, many thanks. I shall try your method for
Veau à la Crème, minus shallots which I can never find in the market. It
is very like my own method, except that I do not use brandy, hence no
flaming, and that I use olive oil instead of butter. I like to do vegetables
in olive oil too — mixtures such as celery, green peppers, onions — plus
sometimes eggplant and tomatoes. I like to do young carrots and scallions
that way too, very little oil and let them cook in their own steam.
* The 1950 Schuman Plan, a precursor of the European Coal and Steel Community (1952) and eventu-
ally the European Union, called for establishing a single organization to pool European coal and steel
resources.
† A food writer who had consulted on the White House menus for Eleanor Roosevelt and was a colum-
nist for The New Yorker.
14 As Always, Julia
I still hope you can eat the eggs with tarragon at Le Bossu, because
there is some element there that I have not hit on. There is one more never
to be forgotten egg dish that I hope you can help me with. This is called
pipérade and is I think of Basque origin — it is very soft scrambled eggs
with tomatoes and various kinds of peppers, so that it is full of little hot
pockets. The best place to eat it is a tiny little hole in the wall between the
Rôtisserie Périgourdine and a little nightclub named L’Ecluse — I have
forgotten the name of the restaurant which has two or three tables on
the sidewalk and a few more inside and is very inconspicuous and cheap.
At least it was in 1950. I really cannot think of any dish more suited to a
quivering stomach after too much wine the night before! Not that I ate
it as a hangover cure; I have not had a hangover in fifteen years, thank
you.
I am anxious to get to the beach — I’m tired, dispirited after a hard
winter, and nothing smoothes me out like sea air and long afternoons on
a hot beach. My son Mark is great fun to live with and we gourmandize
a lot, since Mary remains in town to look after my husband and elder
son. Address, incidentally, 21 Leonard Street, Annisquam (Gloucester),
Mass. This is on Ipswich Bay and rather heavenly. Cape Ann also provides
what I stubbornly maintain are the world’s best lobsters. I also stubbornly
maintain that the only real way to cook lobsters is in three or four inches
of sea water, in a covered kettle, for about twelve minutes (pound and a
quarter lobsters being the ideal size). You then drape these dazzling crea-
tures over the rocks until they cool off a bit, tear them apart with the bare
hands, dip each piece in melted butter, and guzzle. There should be from
two to six lobsters per person. While the lobsters cook and cool off, two
dry Martinis à la DeVoto should be served. Nothing whatever else should
be served — we are eating all the lobster we want, we are not fooling
around with salad or strawberry shortcake or even coffee. All you need
are the martinis, plenty of lobsters, millions of paper napkins, and a view.
This is one of the culinary matters where the Americans have it all over
on the French, as I hope a loyal American like you will agree. Ditto straw-
berry shortcake, season for same being upon us when the New Jersey ber-
ries come in next week. A strawberry which has traveled from Florida or
California has no taste at all. I am not saying that the French lobster in all
its sizes and varieties is not a fine thing, but when you have plenty of lob-
sters right out of the ocean I think it is a crime to obscure that heavenly
flavor with any sauces.
All from One Kitchen Knife 15
* Dione Lucas, an English chef, cooking teacher, and cookbook author; an early champion of French
cooking; and the first woman to have her own cooking show in the United States.