Customer Reviews

As Always, Julia: The Letters of Julia Child and Avis DeVoto

5 star:		(48)
4 star:		(8)
3 star:		(2)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

It's easy to recommend this book to dedicated foodies, and certainly to fans of Julia Child. "As Always, Julia" is the collection of the correspondence between Julia Child and her friend, mentor, and editor Avis DeVoto, from the time in 1952 when Julia wrote a fan letter to Avis' husband (regarding an article he'd written about kitchen knives) and mentioned in-passing that she was working on a cookbook, until the time several years later that the cookbook finally was published.

If you're interested in Julia Child the person (and My Life in France wasn't enough for you, whether or not accompanied by the Julie & Julia movie), then "As Always, Julia" is a no-brainer, because these were the letters shared by two intelligent and opinionated women who were confiding in one another, not talking to a microphone. And confide they did: about Avis' child-raising and Paul Child's job as well as the difficulty of finding fresh shallots. It is, more than anything else, the story of a real life friendship, and better than any epistolary novel you can imagine. You will know these women well, at their most personal, such as Avis writing, "I like every part about growing older except what happens to your feet." (It's hard to imagine anyone compiling such a collection now, with all of us writing e-mail -- if that -- and only packrats like myself keeping copies of everything for decades.)

But the book is interesting for several other reasons.

Watching the creation of a masterpiece: Mastering the Art of French Cooking was an instant classic, and it was the result of years of hard work. But the words "it was the result of years of hard work" does not begin to capture the number of cooking experiments Julia (and Simca) did, or contract negotiations, or research into the equipment that Julia could expect a typical American housewife to own. She experimented with pressure cookers, for instance, to find out if they were okay for making chicken or duck stock. "First time the [pressure cooker] brew was so horrible I threw it away." Then, after adding the vegetables only at the end, "Again it was loathsome so I threw it out." Many ducks gave their lives for such research, and the Childs often found themselves "bilious" after all these experiments.

Would-be writers (or any creator waiting for her ship to come in) may be heartened or inspired by the knowledge that even Julia had self-doubts. She wrote in 1953, "There is so much that has been written, by people so much more professional than I, that I wonder what in the hell I am presuming to do, anyway."

A snapshot of foodie history: My mother was never excited about cooking, and I don't think she owned a copy of MtAoFC. But I do remember shopping for groceries in the 1960s and early 1970s, when cookbooks had to give detailed explanations about what cilantro is, or how to make your own coconut milk. It was worse in the 1950s, and much of the Avis-Julia correspondence is about what was (or usually wasn't) available, from decent jarred chives to fresh clams anywhere but the coastal cities. They also debated the wisdom of getting those newfangled dishwashers, Waring blenders, and other devices that, they started out agreeing, nobody really needed.

A "daily history" of the McCarthy era: Nowadays, we tend to think of the time when Senator McCarthy held sway as a bizarre interlude in American history, but few of us remember it personally. Julia and Avis were extremely political women; one constant theme in their letters was the current political landscape, which they actively abhorred, and their letters become a chronicle of living through that time. "Oh god I wish this madness would subside, as I know it will, but it is exhausting watching all this go on," wrote Avis in 1953. "I do not enjoy watching the Senate floor turned into a bear-pit." There's so much political discourse, in fact, that it might lower the book's value for some readers. (Or raise it for others, if you're more political than I.) While I care about their views (or at least their passions) it often was more than I needed to know. But I could comfortably skip ahead through those parts.

A view of intelligent, accomplished women in a pre-Betty Friedan world: Both Julia and Avis were upper-class women who saw themselves as "housewives" but simultaneously were engaged in serious endeavors. Avis was active in Boston-area intelligentsia (Bernard DeVoto had taught at Harvard), in politics (dinner guests included the Schlessingers and Kennedys), and in book publishing (not the least of which was her initial introduction of Julia to book acquisition editors). Julia was part of the government agency's social scene throughout Paul Child's career, not to mention her own cooking accomplishments in the 40s and 50s. This book is a picture of the years before "Women's liberation" were coined, including social mores. The poet May Sarton, a friend to both Avis and Julia, has a "special relationship;" the editor's footnote explains this meant that Sarton was lesbian. It was indeed a different world, and I'm grateful for a peephole into it -- and even more grateful not to live in it.

As you can tell: I've really enjoyed this book. I think you will, too -- and not just for foodie reasons.

Picture a young wife, circa 1963, faced with entertaining her husband's European business associates and friends (one of whom was a Swiss trained chef!), but whose only cookbook was "Betty Crocker's Picture Cookbook." Now, imagine her astonishment as she thumbs through her brand new book entitled, "Mastering the Art of French Cooking." Talk about prayers being answered! Yes, Julia was responsible for awakening my passion for cooking that continues to this day.

But much as I appreciated Julia as an excellent instructor and enjoyed her television appearances, I had no clue how intelligent, witty and warm hearted she was until I read these letters. In addition, what a pleasure it was to meet her friend, Avis DeVoto, every bit as charming and erudite as Julia. How extraordinary that these two "met" when Julia sent a couple of good French knives to Avis's husband, the writer Bernard DeVoto, after reading his article complaining about the lack of quality in American kitchen knives. That simple gift was the seed of a friendship that is beyond heartwarming to read about.

For those of us who remember the late `50's, these letters also remind us of the turmoil surrounding the McCarthy witch hunts and the latter hearings, years that can only be described today as "bizarre." But it reminds us of how easy it is for just one person to create an atmosphere of suspicion and hearsay so poisonous, that, for awhile, it can intimidate an entire country.

When I first began reading this rather large book, I thought I would keep it by my bedside and read a few letters each evening. Ha! "Bet you can't eat (read) just one!" Instead, I promptly gave in and let the rest of the world go by while I devoured every word until the end. I can't remember the last time that happened.

History, humor, inspiring and unforgettable personalities -- what more can you want in a book?

Who would have guessed that Julia Child was a control freak?

Judging by her own letters, it seems that she was often in various stages of irritation at her two co-authors of Mastering the Art of French Cooking, the book that launched her career. One co-author didn't do her share of the work, although in her defense, it's unlikely that any of them realized when they began, that they were embarking on what would be a 20-year-long project that was anything but smooth. Her other colleague was a hard worker, but something of a perfectionist, often second-guessing Julia's meticulous research. It's amazing the book was published at all.

Julia became pen pals with Avis DeVoto, a reviewer of mysteries and wife of Bernard DeVoto, a writer and editor. Julia had written to Bernard about an article he had written and he asked Avis to answer the letter. Julia and Avis hit it off immediately and began a correspondence and friendship that lasted the rest of their lives.

Julia was an expert at French cooking, but she knew little about book publishing and oddly, little about American cooking. She had never cooked when she lived in America, and had learned everything she knew about cooking in Paris, so she had peculiar gaps in her knowledge, such as that Americans keep their fresh eggs in cartons in the refrigerator, not in a bowl on the counter. Avis was able to keep such clangers from getting into the book, as well as steering Julia to editors who would be open to the idea of such an ambitious cookbook.

Avis also acted as Julia's stateside researcher, answering questions such as whether cake flour was available, or just all-purpose flour. Avis alerted her to new trends in American cooking, such as the use of mono sodium glutamate (MSG) in the form of sprinkle-on Accent.

They wrote about politics as well, with Senator Joseph McCarthy and his hunt for communists the topic of the day. Julia and husband Paul moved from Paris to Marseilles to Germany to Oslo during the 1950s, and she wrote Avis how they were adapting to each new home and how their attempts at language learning were going. Julia loved getting to know new places, but her heart always belonged to Paris.

After two years of letter writing, Avis and Julia finally met in France, and they met a few more times over the years, until the Childs finally returned to the States for good and could see the DeVotos on a more regular basis.

The letters span the years from 1952 to 1961 and are remarkably interesting despite their share of mundane matters such as the weather and who had what seasonal disease. Julia and Paul went to a play while they were visiting New York in 1957 and were impressed by the "young male lead, Richard Burton...he is English, I believe." In a prescient letter dated 1952, Julia told Avis "I'm enjoying [teaching French cooking to Americans] immensely, as I've finally found a real and satisfying profession which will keep me busy well into the year 2000."

I love to cook and have been cooking for over 40 years. Surprisingly enough, I was never a fan of Jullia Child until much later in her life. I never saw her show on PBS, but recently I've been more interested in finding out more about her.

As Always, Julia was a fascinating look into Ms. Chilld's personality and politics, as well as her views on cookery. I found the progression of her friendship with Avis to be a great read. I was afraid that I'd be bored just reading letters between two women, but what women they were!

I also had no idea that Mastering the Art took so many years to write and edit and that a major publisher made the really dumb mistake of turning it down, wow!

I found Julia to not only be a pioneer in the modern American kitchen, but a truly lovely and extremely bright woman. She was an avid reader, writer and very involved in the politics of the time.

I would recommend this book for anyone who would like to know more about the fascinating person who was Jullia Child. I rate the book a solid 4.5 stars. The editing was excellent as well.

Please note that I received an E-ARC copy of this book from the publisher for the purpose of writing a review. I'm a little disappointed to see it's not available for Kindle yet, but online it says that the book is due out 12/10/10, so that may be the Kindle release date.

A great and lasting friendship was born on March 8, 1952, when a young American housewife living in Paris, Julia Child, wrote a short letter to historian Bernard DeVoto, complimenting him on an occasional piece he had written in Harper's lamenting the absence of good carving knives in the States, where knives seemed all to be made of stainless steel, which would not hold an edge. Mrs. Child included a French knife in her letter -forged carbon steel. Mr. DeVoto was swamped with work at the time so his wife, Avis, wrote back. Avis and Julia are one of the great pairs of friends in modern times. They were both sharp as pins, they were irreverent and opinionated, and, most of all, they both were genuinely interested in the people and things around them. Avis's letters are now released from archive and veteran culinary historian Joan Reardon has done a labor of love, combining Avis's and Julia's letters across the span of almost ten years (1952-61) to tell the story of a lovely friendship and of the growth to maturity of the author of one of the classic cookbooks of modern times.

On February 12, 1953, Julia Child wrote her new pen pal, Avis DeVoto, to describe a dinner Julia and her two colleagues in their new Ecole des Trois Gourmandes had attended the night before with famed Parisian gourmand Maurice Curnonsky ("the Prince of Gastronomy"). "At the party," she wrote, "was a dogmatic meatball who considers himself a gourmet but is just a big bag of wind. They were talking about Beurre Blanc, and how it was a mystery, and only a few people could do it, and how it could only be made with white shallots from Lorraine and over a wood fire. Phoo. But that is so damned typical, making a damned mystery out of perfectly simple things just to puff themselves up." She concluded, tongue in cheek, by writing: "I didn't say anything as, being a foreigner, I don't know anything anyway." Two pares later, she's rhapsodizing over the kind of kitchen she'd like to have if she were rich: "I am going to have a kitchen where everything is my height [over six feet], and none of this pigmy [sic.] stuff, and maybe 4 ovens, and 12 burners all in a line, a 3 broilers, and a charcoal grill, and a spit that turns."

That's Julia to a T, always unbuttoned in her opinions, wobbly in her spelling, bursting with energy, savoring whatever life offered her. She wasn't yet the world authority on French cooking she would soon become but she already knew where she was heading and she knew how she wanted to get there -every recipe tested, adaptations made to American materials, tastes and equipment, the `secrets' of French cuisine made clear and obvious to even the neophyte cook. (She commented once about another French cookbook that it should spell out what weight hen to buy for coq au vin -a five-pounder, which is what the recipe called for, would be an old hen: it wouldn't cook in forty-five minutes as the recipe stated; it'd still be tough as leather.)

Julia hadn't finished her immortal Mastering the Art of French Cooking yet, but Avis and she were talking about it. Avis lived in Cambridge, Julia in Paris. Avis hoped to get Julia a decent publishing contract with Houghton Mifflin, a publishing house with which she had contacts. The letters continue through 1961, by which time Mastering had been published, not, alas, by Houghton Mifflin, but by Alfred Knopf. Bernard had died unexpectedly in 1955. Julia and her husband Paul had paid for Avis to visit them in France. The flurry of letters back and forty continued unabated but by that point the continuing themes of their correspondence are in place. As much fun as their letters are to read, at this point there are few new revelations. But who cares? These are first class letters by two first class people, and who would not want to know more about the forging of Mastering the Art of French Cooking, I?

A warning: There is a lot about cooking in these letters, typically gone into in great detail. Julia asks Avis for American ingredients (dried spices, for example) and cooking equipment and counsels her how to make dishes, Avis corrects errors and un-Americanisms in Julia's prose. Other topics pop up repeatedly, most notably, in the earlier portions of the book, their caustic commentary on the Red Scare, Senator Joe McCarthy, and the spineless elected officials who time and again failed to confront him. These are two tough (but very warm) ladies. It's a treat to be let in on their intimate and prolonged conversation with each other.

Before emails and cheap phone calls, letter writing was "it" and the correspondence between Julia Child and her "pen pal" Avis DeVoto, is warm, revealing and lasting. Joan Reardon's fine editing has given the reader a reflective masterpiece full of cooking tidbits and social commentary.

The scope and depth of these letters are profound. While the two women talk much about cooking...ingredients, recipes, methods, etc., the real enjoyment for me in reading "As Always, Julia" is how they see the world around them. Both ardent Democrats, they regularly decry Senator Joseph McCarthy and what he was doing to the country in the early and mid-fifties. Adlai Stevenson, Dwight Eisenhower and Richard Nixon make more than cameo appearances. Avis, a regular member of the Cambridge elite, drops names all over the place, but it's always in a fashion that one accepts, being within her circle of friends.

As Paul Child takes new posts in the foreign service, they move around France, then to Germany and Norway. Julia is always sending Avis details about learning a new language or how food is prepared and served in her "new" country. They talk about dishwashing machines and air conditioners while still referring to the fridge as the "ice box". Lobsters are 59 cents a pound back home in the US. They refer to a Lesbian friend of Avis's as having a "special problem" (her sexuality) and Avis's friend Henry, a homosexual who had years of therapy, delights Avis when he gets engaged. (Such therapy!)

The nicest part about the letters, I believe, is how the Childs and the DeVotos become friends. It's not until two years after their first exchange that they actually meet and within two years after that Bernard DeVoto is dead. The Julia/Avis friendship begins to strengthen and it is charming to watch Avis's son Mark, in whom she delights, grow up before the reader's eyes.

"As Always, Julia" is not only a terrific addition to the recent books by and about the master chef....it's also a great look into the world of the 1950s as seen by two observant people. I highly recommend this book and especially laud Joan Reardon for her excellent work in putting it together.

Julia Child's legacy still lives on whether through her foundation or her revolutionary television show on public television, "The French Chef." Despite her own WASPY upbringing in Pasadena, California in a well-to-do family, she had planned on becoming a novelist in New York City and went to serve her country in Ceylon where she met Paul Child, her loving husband. He accepted an assignment in France. There Julia decided to expand her knowledge on French cuisine and gastronomy with enthusiasm, fascination, and interest.

THis book is not just about Julia Child but about a friendship between her and Avis De Voto, the wife of author Bernard DeVoto. Avis replied to her letter and there began a friendship of love, devotion, honesty, and candid between these two women until the end of their lives.

Their letters also express the time in the 1950s whether set in Cambridge, Massachusetts where Avis lived with her family and all over Europe where Julia and Paul had managed to live in Paris, Marseilles, Germany, and Oslo among his assignments. In the duration, Julia had worked with Louisette and Simca, two French chefs, on a cookbook that was years in the making. In many ways, Avis was the fourth author of this book. She was the force to get it published in the United States through her contacts.

In reading this book compiled by the author, the letters do go into details about food a little too much for me. Avis was also an accomplished chef. But it's a fascinating look at American life and the world of letter writing between two exceptional, brilliant women who revolutionized the publishing and cuisine industries to this day.

This is the kind of book where you come to know the writers like friends, grow to love them, and feel their joys and tragedies as your own. In the opening sections I was captivated by the chatty, literate voices of Avis and Julia, their generous wit and intelligence, and the exciting political and cultural circles in which they moved even more than any of the specific--and also wonderful--information about food. Avis is married to the noted Harvard historian, novelist, and Harper's columnist Bernard DeVoto and knows everybody, writing about Adlai Stevenson, Archie MacLeish, and the scions of American publishing as houseguests and `lambs.' Speaking of Dorothy de Santillana, a top editor at Houghton Mifflin, she remarks, "She used to be married to Robert Hillyer [a Pulitzer prize-winning poet and novelist]. She is now married to Giorgio de S., who is an Italian marquis and teaches history of philosophy at MIT and is a darling. . . You'll die when you meet Dorothy because she is very beautiful and enormously fat--I think this is really one of the rare glandular cases--it makes no difference because she is a great natural force and men gravitate towards her like flies. I'm quite sure she'd give her eye teeth to get this particular book."

I was both amused and intrigued by this breezy kind of talk and the up close and personal views of American literati, their dinners and cocktail parties, and Julia's and Avis's thoughts on such subjects as the `new' stainless steel knives, Dick Nixon, frozen vegetables, roasting chickens, the French, Peyton Place, and McCarthyism. It was like being steeped in pitch-perfect Fifties culture as experienced by tremendously talented, intelligent women immersed in domesticity and serving others and yet somehow managing, quite heroically I might add, to craft lives where their own remarkable gifts shine through.

It took me a while to realize just how courageous these women were because part of their outward cheeriness and generosity towards others is making it all look not that hard. As the years roll by and their labors on Julia's manuscript and for their families continue, you start to see along with all the recipes and other commentary more of the very real hardships they face and the steadfast determination that gets them through. The book is organized by editor Reardon so that you know when something very tragic or really wonderful is about to happen, and then you live through it with the women in their letters as it occurs. This makes for an incredibly engrossing, affecting read.

As the Booklist reviewer pointed out, Avis thought Julia's book was as exciting as a novel, and their correspondence about creating a culinary masterpiece and surviving the ups and downs of midlife is certainly the same. In fact, it's richer, more sumptuous, true, and moving than almost anything I've read this year. You don't even have to be that interested in food or cooking to get swept up by the story. Thank goodness Houghton Mifflin had the good sense to publish their book this time!

It all started with a fan letter written in March of 1953. "Housewife" and food junkie Julia Child wrote a letter to Mr. Bernard DeVoto agreeing with his "diatribe" against stainless steel knives in an article he'd written for Harper's magazine. Julia's letter was answered by Bernard's wife, Avis. Many of us learned about the friendship between Julia and Avis DeVoto in the 2009 hit film, Julie and Julia. Now we are blessed with the treat that is Joan Reardon's As Always, Julia.

Joan Reardon has done a superb job in selecting, compiling, editing and referencing what was originally more than four hundred letters written by Julia and Avis. Ms. Reardon is a culinary historian, cookbook author, and biographer. She also edits a quarterly newsletter for Les Dames d'Escoffier Chicago and serves on the advisory board of Gastronomica. In other words, Ms. Reardon knows her way around a kitchen and it shows!

Within the 430+ pages of this book, the letters not only chronicle the growing friendship between Julia and Avis, they also serve as steadfast barometer of the times. The letters span the years between 1953 and 1961. The world was changing rapidly and the commentary and banter that flows back and forth reflects the post-World War II "jet age" experiences. One of the things I found amazing was the pro-and-con 1953 debate spurred by new "labor saving devices," in particular, the automatic dish washer, something a 2010 household thinks nothing about. However, Avis is appalled that the glasses and dishes have to be rinsed, that pots and pans shouldn't be put in, and all things considered, they don't clean that well.

Another discussion that takes place between Avis and Julia is one that would not take place today: the scarcity of fresh herbs, fruits, and vegetables during the "off season." Now-a-days most everything is available year round. They shared their struggles with cooking food within the "seasons" and offered each other alternatives to fresh foods, frozen (not so good) and canned (not so good always either).

This is a wonderful book of letters that shares more than the growth of a long distance friendship. As Always, Julia follows the publication of Julia's ground breaking cookbook, Mastering The Art of French Cooking. Through the eyes of these two savvy, well read, well traveled, and very opinionated women we see the politics of the time, the McCarthy era, as well as their thoughts on American "fast food," how to make a beurre blanc, and the perils of the frozen turkey.

As Always, Julia is a valentine to every cook, wanna-be cook, chef, and food lover out there. It's also a valentine to a friendship that survived decades.

I can't recommend this book enough. As Always, Julia is a wonderful read and it will make a fabulous gift to anyone who loves food and believes in enduring, unselfish friendships. Buy several, one to read and the rest to share with friends!

If I gave stars, this is a sweet 5 out of 5 stars!

Source: This book was provided to me by the publisher at my request and in no way affected by review.

In 1951, American West historian Bernard DeVoto wrote an article for Harper's magazine in which he deplored the lack of adequate knives for the American housewife. In Paris, Julia Child read the article and sent him a French kitchen knife. Avis DeVoto, Bernard's wife, who answered her husband's mail, wrote back to Julia. From this start, the two women corresponded until Avis' death in 1989.

"As Always" covers only ten years of their 38-year friendship. During that 10-year period, Julia attended Le Cordon Bleu to learn how to master French cooking and decided to write a French cookbook for American women.

Over the course of a 38-year friendship, the two women wrote hundreds of letters. Reading these letters was fascinating because interspersed in the two on-going topics of cooking and eating were discussions of politics, living in foreign countries, and many other topics.

One has to wonder whether these two erudite and intelligent women would produce such a body of correspondence in this day of 140-character tweets, 500-word blog posts, and emails.

If you love cooking, eating, Julia Child, cookbooks, and intelligent women, this book will fascinate you.