On Sunday mornings I sometimes take my dog Clementine for a stroll through the Cambridge, MA neighborhood where Julia Child lived, on the leafy outskirts of the Harvard University Campus. To me these walks are sacred, the agnostic-ritual version of taking myself to church.
I’m drawn to the quiet block, (where poet E.E. Cummings also lived) when the seasons change, when my sons are driving me crazy, when I have a business decision to make, when I feel burnt out, or buoyed by good news. It’s a place I go to take deep breaths, to listen to birds, and to accept that my internal dialogue around perennial beds is irrefutable proof that I’m on the doorstep of middle-age.
I end up here partly because it’s an objectively pleasant place to walk — just far enough from my own pot-holed, construction-zone of a street in Somerville — and partly, because I want to believe (however mortifying) that Julia is a fairy godmother of sorts. Not just to me, but to all women who pursue life’s work and pleasures with gusto…but also, specifically me, because what kind of maniac makes a pilgrimage to her house every time they are in their feelings?
Whether or not you have Julia’s cookbooks on your shelf (I do) or a print of her hanging in your kitchen (me, again), I’d bet there is a part of her persona that resonates. The woman toiled away on the books she wanted to write, the (unpaid) TV show she wanted to film, the beef bourguignon she wanted to eat, and she seemed to do it all with conviction, and take such joy in it.
As someone staring down the barrel of 40, and questioning whether some of my own dream-chasing is becoming a bit silly, I particularly appreciate that for Julia, it never seemed too late. She spent a decade writing her first cookbook. She didn’t make her television debut until after she turned 50, and she founded the Gastronomy MLA program at Boston University with Jacques Pepin – the program that started my culinary career – when she was 79! *
Best of all, she was unapologetic about her path. An interview after launching the program in 1991 went like this…
The New York Times: “Can a marriage between food and traditional academic scholarship really work?”
Julia Child: “There’s a lot more to the field than cooks piddling in the kitchen. It’s high time that it’s recognized as a serious discipline.”
I’m never going to be the kind of cook who makes souffles, or debones chickens, or bakes her own baguettes…I’m the one rifling through the fridge to make fried rice out of leftovers before my boys have a hangry meltdown.
But that’s not the point.
Julia’s I-can-and-I-will-and-I’ll-enjoy-the-hell-out-of-it attitude, can be applied to any pursuit: learning a language, taking up tennis, getting a promotion, making a meal. If it interests you, and you feel it’s worth doing, then start doing it. Don’t wait for permission or praise.
This is a woman who declared, “A party without cake, is just a meeting.” Julia knew that really going for it, isn’t something to ridicule, it’s something to celebrate.
Amen to all that.
*100% chance that my fellow BU Gastronomy school alum think she’s their fairy godmother too.
Looking to channel your inner Julia?
This book is a wonderful read – chronicling Julia’s time of self-discovery in France. Co-written with her nephew – reading it is transportive, and feels like settling in on the couch with Julia herself.
I’m both embarrassed that I haven’t tuned in yet, and excited to dig into the series on HBO MAX starting this week – watch with me and let’s discuss!
The gorgeous food styling was led by my friend Christine Tobin, who I was lucky enough to learn from during my time at Milk Street.
