Ingredients: A hunger for knowledge; boundless energy and enthusiasm; a love of architecture and design; a passion for cooking and for good food.
“The table could sometimes breed violence and it could be the backdrop to the proscribed and the forbidden and the perverse … But feeding people made them happy; it made me happy, and grounded me.” From “Treyf” by Elissa Altman
Julia Child’s great-nephew Alex Prud’homme with his new book
Julia Child often said: “I was born hungry!” She had an appetite for life and sharing a love of good food was her consuming passion. She was North America’s first TV celebrity chef and her great-nephew Alex Prud’homme had a front-row seat.
“Immaturity and hair dye keep me young.”
I’m repeating the title of this post for a few reasons: First, everything clever is worth repeating. It usually gets a good laugh – one of life’s giddiest pleasures, especially at my age. It’s true and unabashedly honest. It sums up what’s to follow – the announcement that I turn 70 in a few days. And last, it’s original.
This story appeared in the Toronto Star in October, 1999, after my visit to Cambridge, MA, where Julia Child, who had become my friend and mentor, lived. She invited me for breakfast. There was an incident with some croissants. Read on:
“I was 32 when I started cooking; up until then, I just ate.” — Julia Child
I’ve been a busy member of Canada’s food media for many moons – more than 30 years of telling stories about my consuming passion, 18 of them as food editor/columnist for Canada’s largest newspaper, the Toronto Star.
I arrived at the door of Judith Jones’s compact, six-room apartment in a classic brownstone on New York’s Upper East Side to the sounds of enthusiastic, high-pitched barking on the other side of the door.
It was her little white and furry Havanese dog Mabon who was happy to see me and proceeded to jump up and down as I entered the cozy place where she’s lived for several decades.
It’s been a rough few weeks.
In mid-December, my wise therapist, inspired spiritual teacher and beloved friend Terry Flynn died. It was sudden and unexpected. Although he had been diagnosed with the dreaded disease called ALS (Lou Gehrig’s), Terry assumed he had months, maybe more, to live. I miss him with all my heart.
All went well for several months during which time I would visit the place occasionally to pick up mail and move items to my new place – mostly clothes, work-related stuff and some important papers.
I have long dreamed of eating at famed Berkeley restaurant Chez Panisse.
At an Association of Food Journalists gathering in the Napa Valley more than a decade ago, I tried, without success, to find a way to make that pilgrimage.