I, like so many of us, have been obsessed with Julia Child since I was a kid, her love for butter, the way she could make anything work, and that voice that would rise and fall and draw you in, all while she towered over a dish that wouldn't pass muster in today's plate-it-till-you-make-it cool kids restaurant kitchens. One year for Christmas, I asked for "Mastering the Art of French Cooking," and was totally intimidated by the epic, pages-long descriptions detailing every little step. My love for Julia never wavered. I love to cook, passed down from generations of home cooks on both sides of my family, and devoured cooking shows and cookbooks, subjecting my husband to all kinds of "fun," new recipes over the years. In 2009, we visited the Smithsonian Museum of American History in Washington, DC and saw Julia's Cambridge kitchen, perfectly preserved. We were in awe. (I've visited many times since, and it doesn't get old — there's a great exhibit on the history of food and wine now that's worth seeing.)
I've read ALL of Julia's books, seen all the movies, documentaries, etc. and of course read many books ABOUT her. I have always been most drawn to her and Paul's special relationship, and their time in France, where Julia first fell in love with food and cooking. I get it. We've all had those bites that just blow our mind. That perfectly meld layer upon layer of flavors, and leave us wanting more. My husband says I get "mad," when I taste something too good. And he's not wrong. I get very interested in just how it could be so good, and how it could be replicated, and frustrated when I realize the Chef who made it is just that good. Admittedly, I am not that good. I love food, and I love to cook, but you won't find me writing any books on it.
So, in 2016 when I read an article in Vogue detailing the recent purchase of Julia Child's former holiday home, La Pitchoune, in the Provencal countryside, I knew I had to go. It had the same pegboard system, was outfitted with "Julia-sized" countertops, and was now home to a cooking school.
I signed up for the email list, which only fueled my enthusiasm. I recruited a group of friends to go, and in 2019, we booked for the following spring of 2020, and I couldn't WAIT! But, wait I did. COVID ruined everything. Our trip was pushed to 2021, and then to 2022 (the French authorities are no joke). Finally, it was TIME. I was UNBEARABLE.
We arrived early and our host (Chris) got us settled. We picked rooms, and I was drawn to a yellow room with a little fireplace in the corner, even though it was not set up for use. Chris told us this was Paula and Julia's room. Swoon.
Our friends chose the blue room, which faced south and had the coziest vibes. Where Judith Jones and James Beard stayed when they visited. Dead.
We assigned the third couple we were travelling with the red room due to the newly renovated bathroom. This is where Julia worked on "Mastering II." And apparently often slept to avoid Paul's snoring (C-PAPs weren't invented until THE 80s y'all).
The walls in the living room and hallway were covered with photographs and letters and maps in Julia and Paul's handwriting, including details about the house and grounds, and its caretakers and visiting animals. We got a quick tour of the house and property, but all I wanted to do was make sweet love to that kitchen.
But first, dinner. Chris kept the rosé flowing, and Chef Kendall brought out THE most amazing charcuterie board to tide us over for the evening. We knew we were in good hands. When Chris and Kendall left us for the evening, we were all over it. That kitchen became our laboratory, and we examined every inch of it. And I may have photographed every inch of it, too. Paul's original drawings are still there, showing where each tool goes on the pegboard. Some of the original tools are there too. Alexa stands where the radio once did, but that's about it. There are no modern, fancy gadgets on the countertops. No immersion blenders or air fryers.
The next morning, our lessons began. Our teachers each day were either Makenna or Kendall, with Makenna giving instruction on theory and context, and Kendall focusing on techniques and cooking. And each day, I hovered over my husband's face first thing in the morning, whisper-screaming, "We're in Julia's HOUSE!"
It was a family affair. Chris (Makenna's husband) led excursions and Ross (Kendall's husband) acted as sommelier and bartender. Each evening, we got a preview of the next day. Some days there were excursions (the market in Cannes! A waterfront restaurant in Theole!), some days there weren't (lounge by the pool in the afternoon; go on a hike!).
On the last evening, we were treated to a six-course tasting menu prepared by Kendall, with Makenna and Ross assisting and acting as servers and sommelier, too. Kendall used all the "leftover" ingredients from the week to make six STUNNING dishes that we devoured in record time. After dinner, we had time to sit and visit together, reminiscing about our time together and what we learned.
Here's what I learned:
- Get your stuff together. AKA The importance of mise en place, the French art of preparing and organizing all your ingredients before you start cooking. Anthony Bourdain said, "Mise en place is the religion of all good line cooks." How many times have you started to cook and then realized you didn't chop the thing or measure the stuff, and now you're down a road with no time because you have to move to the next step and you're going to mess it all up if you stop and do that? Just me? I used to do this about a third of the time. I now do it 100% of the time.
- Mix it up. I have a new confidence and appreciation for mixing. Mixing ingredients, techniques (cuts, cooks, etc.), textures, tastes, spices to layer flavor, the list goes on and on.
- Be courageous. I was always the kind of home cook that took recipes as suggestions. I'm keeping that. We learned about the importance of ratios and using common sense to make adjustments to taste. (Want a lighter mousse? Add more egg whites. Want a thicker stew? Add more wine.) Fancy things like soufflé and ceviche and hollandaise aren't scary. Set your mise en place, work the ratios and the steps, and you've got it.
- Skills are important. Knifes kills can elevate your dish by incorporating different textures (sliced, diced, julienne). But it's not everything. Don't kill yourself if you're just going to caramelize those onions.
- Don't be a hero. When your fingers start to get too close to the blade of the mandolin, set aside that ingredient and start on the next. We're stock makers now, after all.
We cooked and ate so much wonderful food together, and each one of us took something different away from the week. But we all agreed we gained confidence in the kitchen, in big and small ways, that will stay with us forever.
Comments