- Really? - Very exciting.
By the way, there's a man that I want to introduce you to.
I think you'll really...
He's...
Tall. He's very tall.
- Pardon? - Tall. He's very.
- Extremely tall. - I'm extremely tall.
- But he's even taller, so that's good. - He is even taller.
Well, that's good.
All right.
Pretty good.
But not great.
Hello, ladies. Anybody want anything?
Yes.
Help yourself. The tapenade is marvelous.
Julia, there you are.
John!
There you are.
Now, where is this sister of yours?
She's right over there. Hi, John.
- Hi, Paul. - There.
So we've told her a lot about you.
Well, I don't want to interrupt her conversation.
With Ivan Cousins? They just met.
I can't imagine Dorothy running off with Ivan Cousins.
Dearly beloved...
John, this is lovely.
I've never been to a wedding like this before.
Here, Julia.
- What a beautiful wedding. - Thanks, Pops.
I am not enthusiastic about this marriage.
Well, you weren't very enthusiastic about ours, either.
True.
How are things at the embassy, Paul?
Fine. Thank you, Phila. Thank you.
Well, not fine, really, because they've cut our library allowance by 90%.
It seems that Senator McCarthy has very long arms.
Senator McCarthy is a man who knows his mind.
I admire a man who knows his mind.
Well, we know lots of people in Washington who have lost their jobs,
after years in government service, for no reason whatsoever.
And Paul had to make a list of every single book in the embassy library.
Surely you're not suggesting that the French government is any better.
- And... - Shall we dance?
Come on, dance with me.
Excuse us.
You said you didn't want to talk about it, then you went and talked about it.
I know, I never learn.
Where's my big sprig?
Up here, whipping away.
And for dinner, mayonnaise?
- That's good. - That is good, isn't it?
- Very. From your sister. - I'm going to send this recipe to Avis.
I'm very excited about it.
- I think it's a breakthrough. - Well, it tastes like it.
Dorothy is pregnant.
Paul.
Isn't that wonderful?
Yes.
Okay.
- I'm so happy. - I know.
I know.
If you warm the bowl slightly before you beat in the egg yolk,
it changes everything.
Foolproof mayonnaise. Absolutely foolproof.
I typed it up.
- You disagree? - About the mayonnaise? Not at all.
I'm sure you're exactly right.
Scientific workability. That's my motto.
Julia.
We have a little problem.
- Our editor... - For our cookbook.
...thinks our book is not in English.
But your book is in English.
They are giving it a rejection.
But they suggest that if we are continuing with it,
we should get a collaborator who could take what we have
and make it work for American cooks.
Would you do it, Julia?
Would I do it?
Yes.
We are now going to play a round of "Guess Who's Coming To Dinner."
This Wednesday, I am going to be playing host to a distinguished guest.
Clue number one.
The degree of separation between Julia Child and me
is about to shrink by a factor of about a thousand.
A thousand.
In answer to your questions, no, it is not Amanda Hesser of The New York Times
or Nigella Lawson, or Ina Garten.
But here's clue number two,
I will be making boeuf bourguignon,
which was the first dish our distinguished guest cooked
upon reading Mastering the Art of French Cooking for the first time.
Boeuf bourguignon. Julia Child's boeuf bourguignon.
Well, since no one guessed my mystery guest, I'm going to have to tell you all.
It's Judith Jones, the editor who's responsible
for getting Julia's cookbook published way back when,
the woman who recognized history in an onionskin manuscript.
She's older and probably not used to eating at 10:00 at night,
which is why I'm being diligent about this and making the stew the night before.
And as I cook it,
I almost feel as if Julia and I are communicating over space and time
on a deep, spiritual, mystical level.
Although, mostly, I'm just talking to myself.
- How long does it take to cook? - Two and a half hours.
Welcome.
I'm Julia Child.
And today we're going to make a holiday feast, or les fêtes d'holiday.
And we're going to start with half-boned chicken or poularde demi-désossée.
Now, first, remove the liver and fry it up with some onions for a little snack
or perhaps a delicious liverwurst which you can spread on a cracker,
a Ritz cracker, a saltine.
Saltine.
Or if you have a pet, a cat or a dog, they love liver.
Save the liver.
- Save the liver. - Save the liver.
Now, you place the chicken on its stomach
and cut along the backbone to the pope's nose, like so.
Crack!
Now I've done it, I've cut the dickens out of my finger.
Well, I'm glad, in a way, this happened.
You know, accidents do occur from time to time in the kitchen.
We've never really discussed what to do.
First, you must stop the bleeding.
The best way is with direct pressure on the apron, like so.
You want to raise your hand over your head.
I recommend natural coagulants, such as chicken liver.
Another reason not to throw away the liver.
Oh, God, it's throbbing! A tourniquet, that's it.
Why are you all spinning?
Well, I think I'm going to go to sleep now. Bon appétit.
No, no, no!
Well, it's just a big, dry collection of recipes.
It doesn't work at all.
I'm just gonna have to throw most of it out and start all over again!
This has got to be a cookbook
that makes French cooking accessible to Americans who do not have cooks.
Who are servantless.
Is that a word?
Servantless.
I think it is a word.
Julia?
- What if we had to leave Paris? - Why would we have to leave Paris?
Because my assignment was for four years.
So then we still have time.
Eight months.
And this cookbook is not something you can finish in eight months.
No. But two years seems possible.
Julia.
What if they transfer me someplace else?
Would they do that?
Yes.
They don't really care about me.
Paul. Of course they do.
They don't, really.
Well, if we can't stay in Paris,
then I'll just mail the pages to Louisette and Simca
and they can mail them back to me.
That's why they invented the mail system and carbon paper and onionskin copies,
or I can just jump on the train to Paris
whenever the three of us absolutely have to work together, you know.
Or the two of us, actually, because as we know, Louisette does next to nothing.
But we would still be somewhere in Europe.
Don't you think?
It's very hard to say, given the current political climate.
Senator McCarthy does not like people like us.
Us? Why? What have we done?
We haven't done anything. That's not the point.
The point is, we were in China. And that's practically sufficient.
Well, meanwhile, we're still here.
- Yes, we are. You're right. - Yes.
Here's to the book.
French Cooking for All!
Or French Home Cooking. Do you like that? Which one do you like?
I like them both.
Dear Avis, enclosed is part of our cookbook from the chapter on sauces.
Naturally, it must not be shown to anyone
unless you are sure they are not, never have been,
and won't have anything to do with the publishing business.
There are people who would love nothing more
than to steal this hollandaise recipe.
We're late! Do you suppose she'll be there?
Louisette? Of course she'll be there. It's at her house.
I was making a little joke.
- What's this about, anyway? - Louisette wouldn't tell me.
She said it was a surprise.
Maybe she's dropping out of the project. That would be heavenly.
- Julia. - Well, it would.
My friends, this is Irma Rombauer.
Mrs. Joy?
The first edition of the Joy of Cooking took me a year to write.
Only a year? Including testing the recipes?
Well, I didn't really test all the recipes. There were so many of them.
And then I found a publisher, a small printer in St. Louis.
How much money did he pay you?
I paid him. $3,000.
- $3,000? - A small fortune.
But I had a little life insurance money because my husband...
- No! - He killed himself?
Yes.
And I thought, "Well, what else am I gonna do with the insurance money?"
And then, the book began to sell
and Bobbs-Merrill picked it up, so now I had a real publisher.
And they gave you some money?
Absolutely not.
They swindled me. They stole my copyright,
and now there's a new edition, and guess what?
- What? - The index is a complete calamity.
If you're looking for City Chicken, you're not gonna find it under "C."
Really?
It's under "Drumsticks, Mock."
No.
All she wanted to talk about
was how her publisher had cheated her
out of thousands of dollars in royalties.
It just made me realize this...
Not going to be simple, this getting published business.
This is from Avis, for you.
Oh, my. Well.
What does she say now?
Avis loves my sauce chapter.
That's wonderful, darling.
Oh, no.
She showed it to someone. Which I specifically asked her not to do.
She showed it to an editor at Houghton Mifflin in Boston,
and the Boston editor showed it to the head of publishing and...
Paul! Paul!
Yes? What, what, what? What, what?
They want to...
They want to publish our book.
That's great news!
And they want to give us an advance.
How much?
- $250! - No.
And when the book is finished, $500 more!
I'm so proud of you.
The editor loves the book!
She just loves it.
"So with the smell of burned stew still in the air,
"I woke up dying of stomach cramps.
"I called in sick."
And went back to bed for several hours.
Put it in. Put it in the blog in case someone in your office reads it.
And went back to bed for several hours.
By noon, I was somehow able to straighten myself up to a standing position.
What are you making?
Bought the ingredients for boeuf bourguignon all over again.
Boeuf bourguignon.
Dragged myself home.
And made another boeuf bourguignon.
And for dessert, a raspberry Bavarian cream.
By the end of the day, I felt fine.
I was cooking dinner for a legend,
even though I'd never really heard of her until a few months ago.
Maybe she'll offer you a book contract.
What if she does?
I mean, what would that mean? That would mean I might be a writer.
How much money do people make for books?
Like an advance? I have no idea.
- $100,000? - Don't even say it.
Hello?
Hi.
I know. I know, I know. It is here, too. Cats and dogs.
I know.
Well, thanks.
Bye.
So not coming.
That was the guy from The Christian Science Monitor.
It's raining.
And we live in Long Island City and she's, like, older.
It's mortifying.
But on the bright side, more stew for us.
Just for once, could you not look on the bright side?
Yeah. Well, it's not the end of the world.
I thought, I really did think, I just did. I thought "book contract."
Me, Judith Jones, happily ever after.
And then we'd have a little money
and we wouldn't live over a pizzeria for the rest of our lives.
How am I gonna explain this?
My readers are gonna be really upset. They were so into it.
- Your readers are gonna be really upset. - I never should've told everyone.
They'll live.
Somehow,
your readers will live.
- Is it bland? - Not anymore.
Thank you for telling me that.
You almost let me feed Judith Jones bland boeuf bourguignon.
This is a nightmare. I told everyone she was coming.
They will survive.
And when this year's over, and I cannot wait until it is,
your readers will somehow get on with their lives.
- And I won't, is that what you're saying? - I don't know. I have no idea.
I mean, what's gonna happen when you're no longer the center of the universe?
That's just great.
I am finally totally engaged in something.
Okay, maybe I'm being a little narcissistic.
A little? On a scale of 10?
Okay, a 9.3. But what do you think a blog is? It's me, me, me day after day.
I thought it'd be fun. How stupid is that?
It just turns out to be a lot of what you call "meltdowns,"
but they don't feel like meltdowns.
They feel like I'm living with a totally self-absorbed person
who writes this stuff for a bunch of complete strangers.
And it's supposed to be a big adventure, but it's not.
It's our life. It's our marriage.
And, here, in this room, it doesn't feel like an adventure, it feels like shit.
- It was your idea! - I know, I'm so sorry.
What the hell was I thinking? And I'll tell you something else.
I am not a saint.
- Yes, you are. - No, I'm not!
- Yes, you are! - No, I'm not!
And it makes me feel like an asshole every time you say it!
And do not write about this in your blog.
- About what? - About this fight!
I'm outta here.
- You all right, Julia? - Yes, fine.
I'm perfectly fine.
Dear Avis, we finished packing today,
and tomorrow we leave beloved Paris for Marseilles.
Paul has been appointed Cultural Affairs Commissioner for the South of France.
I'm having a hard time pretending to be anything but devastated.
I'm going to go buy some bread.
The advantage of Marseilles is that it won't have the distractions of Paris.
So we'll be able to finish the book.
Although not on deadline.
At least we're still in France.
Dear Avis, I don't know what we've done to deserve it
but here we are in Germany.
Actually in a suburb of Bonn called Plittersdorf on the Rhine,
which sounds much more picturesque than it is.
By the way, there is no chance we'll meet our new deadline.
We'll be at least two more years.
Meanwhile, Paul has been called to Washington.
We have no idea why.
Well, they're going to promote you, finally. They have to.
Well, I don't know why they have to call me back to Washington to tell me that.
They could just send a telex. It'd be a lot cheaper.
Well, they're going to reassign you, then.
They'll ask you whether you prefer Paris or Paris.
It's a possibility. It's not likely, but it is a possibility.
And if they are moving us back to Paris,
I can look for an apartment when I'm there next week.
Good idea, yes?
I promise I'll call you the minute they tell me
we're being transferred back to Paris, all right?
All right.
- I know, darling. I know. - I think it could happen.
It could happen, I know.
Stay right there. That's perfect.
- Say cheese, ducky. - Move your hand.
- Good. Great. - Put your legs together, darling.
It's very simple.
We're just going to tell her she should have a smaller share of the royalties
because it is clear she can't put in the 40 hours a week you and I are spending on it.
- Sixty is more like it. Eighty. - Exactly.
- You and I are vaches enragées. - That's exactly what we are. Mad cows.
But I can't bring myself to say this to Louisette.
- You're going to have to do it. - I will do it. We must be cold-blooded.
I shall love her much more when this is settled.
It isn't that you're not helping to some extent.
But I am helping.
It was my idea to add peas to the coq au vin recipe.
We know, and that was a wonderful idea,
but the book has become a magnum opus.
But we are a team.
We are Les Trois Gourmandes. One for all.
Yes, it's absolutely true, Louisette. Yes, it's true.
And you have been very valuable to the project.
Thank you.
But...
I am getting a divorce.
- What? - Jean-Luc is leaving me.
I'm so sorry. Louisette. Just forget that I even mentioned it.
But it isn't fair for Louisette to get the same amount of money that we do.
Simca, this is not the time to discuss this. She's getting a divorce.
But she doesn't do the work.
You don't do the work, so your share should be 10%.
Ten percent?
You're not doing the work.
Twenty-five.
- Fifteen. - Twenty.
Eighteen and not a penny more.
And where it says our names, I think it should say,
"By Julia Child and Simone Beck, with Louisette Bertholle."
- "With"? - And in smaller type.
No, no, no, no, Simca.
Our names exactly the... Exactly... And alphabetical. Alphabetical.
But it was not even her idea to put the peas in the coq au vin.
- No. - But it bothers me.
For me?
Dear Avis, we've been through our own version of Kafka.
Paul went off to Washington, and in my innocence
I thought it must be because the United States government
had finally realized how valuable he was.
Far from it. He was being investigated.
He spent three days being grilled in a windowless room
with a foot-high stack of papers ominously sitting on the table.
They asked him about our friends, our books,
our China years, our patriotism.
They even asked him if he was a homosexual.
- Are you a homosexual, Mr. Child? - No.
I am not a homosexual.
This is not a joke.
I'm well aware of that.
He came home exonerated but thoroughly bruised.
Julia, it was a nightmare.
What am I going to do?
I feel like my entire life has been a waste.
- Paul. - I have one more posting,
then I'll retire and then what?
We'll figure it out.
I just don't know what it was all for.
You know?
You at least have the book.
Well, it's your book, too.
It is.
Without you, it wouldn't be a book.
Not that Simca and I'll ever be done with it.
- Someday you'll be done with it. - I'm beginning to wonder.
So to wrap things up,
at 6:22 last night, guess who wasn't coming to dinner?
That's right.
It began pouring down rain and Judith Jones canceled.
I was utterly crushed.
And then on top of everything,
I had a horrible fight with my husband and he left me.
The boeuf bourguignon was delicious, not that I ate it.
As for the raspberry Bavarian cream, I am taking it to the office.
Morning.
Julie, could you come in here?
I didn't tell him, I swear.
Julie?
- Feeling better? - Much.
So you burned the stew?
But that's not why I didn't come to work. I didn't come to work because I had...
Stomach flu.
Listen, it's a free country.
But this little thing of yours on the Internet, I do not want to show up in it. Okay?
And if you don't feel like coming in to work, let me know.
Somebody will want this job. We're trying to do something here.
I'm sorry.
Anyone else would fire you.
A Republican would fire you.
I'm not a schmuck.
I'm in shock. I can't believe it.
You're like "The Ones." If you and Eric can't make it work, who can?
All sorts of people can. Just not me because I am a bitch.
I am, Sarah. I'm a bitch.
I know. I know you are.
By the way, Garth and I broke up.
Oh, God, I didn't even ask. I am a one-way street, just like Eric says.
It's okay. I wasn't in love with him.
Do you really think I'm a bitch?
- Well, yeah. - I know.
But who isn't?
Julia.
I've been thinking about me and Julia.
She was a secretary for a government agency and I am, too.
A really nice guy married her. A really nice guy married me.
Both of us were lost
and both of us were saved by food in some way or other.
So major overlaps. But let's face it, I am not Julia Child.
Julia Child never lost her temper just because something boiled over,
or collapsed in the oven, or just plain fell through.
And she was never horrible to her husband, I'm sure.
And she never behaved like, "Who has time to be married?"
Which is how I behave sometimes, I'm sorry to say.
I wish I were more like her. She deserved her husband and I don't.
That's the truth.
Well, anyway, that's the truth for now.
Yogurt for dinner.
Hi, you've reached Eric Powell at Archaeology magazine. Leave a message.
I hated sleeping without you last night.
Where are you?
I miss you.
- Hello? - Honey, is something wrong?
No.
Why would you think that?
Are you and Eric having some kind of problem?
Of course not.
- Is he there and you can't talk? - He's not here.
I just read your blog, and it was strange and uncharacteristically thoughtful.
- Where is he? - Out.
He went out to get pizza.
Have you stopped cooking?
Just temporarily. Just taking a little break from cooking.
Well, get back to it.
It's gonna be good for you to finish something for once in your life.
- Julia didn't give up. - Who says I'm giving up?
Well, I'm just saying don't.
Hey.
Are you back?
Please be back.
What's for dinner?
Well, Avis said she'd be here. Even if we were late.
Well, if she's not here, we can take a taxi.
They probably have taxis in Boston.
She'll be here. Wearing a plaid jacket.
That's how I'm to recognize her.
What do you mean, "recognize her"? Has she changed?
Well...
"Look for the middle-aged woman in a plaid jacket."
- So... - You and Avis have never met?
We're just pen pals.
You don't know each other?
Well, we do. We write.
But how did you start writing one another?
That's a long story.
Avis' husband, Bernard De Voto, now dead, was a wonderful, wonderful writer.
He wrote an article in Harper's Magazine all about stainless steel knives
- and how he absolutely detested them. - Yes.
And so I wrote him a fan letter because he was 100% right
and Avis wrote me back.
And so I wrote her back. And she wrote me back.
Well, it's been eight years, I think.
- Avis. - Julia.
- My darling friend. - Look at you.
Brilliant friend. Bless you.
This is a very impressive undertaking, Mrs. Child and Mrs. Beck.
Well, thank you very, very much.
And your editor loves it.
I do. I think it's brilliant.
There's really nothing else like it on the market.
- The problem is not just the length. - It's 700 pages.
- Yes, we know. It is long. - Yes, we know it's long.
You have 700 pages of just sauce and poultry recipes.
We were thinking that you could publish it in a series of volumes.
Volume One, Sauces.
- Volume Two... - Poultry.
Yes.
Volume Three, Fish. Meat, vegetables, and desserts.
That's one, two, three... That's six volumes.
Eggs.
- Eggs. - Eggs. Seven. Seven volumes.
But we don't want to publish an encyclopedia.
I thought this was intended for housewives.
Yes, housewives want something quick, with a mix.
Like this.
But if I may speak for everyone,
if you were willing to revise it, I'm sure we would all be interested.
Simca, I am so sorry.
You just picked the wrong collaborator.
Yes, I should have worked with this woman, "Baked Alaska in a Flower Pot."
We'll just take the book away from Houghton Mifflin and find another publisher.
We have just begun to fight. Julia, your book is a masterpiece.
What is Marshmallow Fluff?
And keep the advance, by the way. Keep the entire $250.
Don't give them back a penny of it.
Why did we ever decide to do this anyway? What were we thinking?
Who can remember?
I can.
We wanted to write a French cookbook for American women who do not have cooks.
So then, that's what we'll do. We'll just do it all over again.
And that's that. It'll be easy.
It will. The dessert section is done. Thanks to Simca, it is brilliant.
Thank you.
I just haven't typed it up yet.
But that will give me something to do in Oslo.
Eric, come see the world's most beautiful chicken.
Naughty.
Wow.
Oh, my God.
It feels so good. No, I'm serious. I love it!
I just want to savor this moment.
The moment when anything is possible.
The moment that you can just imagine they're going to love everything you did
and it's going to sell a million copies and change the world.
Yes. But I think it calls for a great bottle of wine.
- Don't you think? - Yes.
What's for dinner?
What if she doesn't eat pork?
She's a food writer. Of course she eats pork. You'll be fine. You'll be fine.
You're right. I know you're right. I'm sure you're right.
- Is she early? - She's right on time.
- I'll finish, I'll finish. - Thank you, thank you.
You are a terrible human being. And very difficult to live with.
Who is it?
Amanda Hesser from The New York Times.
Come in.
You have such a sense of Julia when you do something like this,
as a teacher, as a voice.
I have conversations with her while I'm cooking.
And I feel like she is there with me in the kitchen.
She's like your imaginary friend.
Yes.
And, of course, she is the person I write for every day.
Although, I don't think she ever reads it. I don't know.
I'm dying to meet her.
I would like to be a bridesmaid in her wedding in 1946.
I realize that that would take an inexplicable episode of time travel,
but that is the sort of thing that I think about.
We're planning a pilgrimage to Julia's Cambridge kitchen
in the Smithsonian museum when this is over.
But first, I have to finish. I have 15 days and 24 recipes,
and I still have to bone a duck.
I read somewhere that it was bad form to say "yum" while you're eating, but "yum."
Lower Manhattan Development Corporation, this is Julie Powell. Please hold.
Lower Manhattan Development Corporation, this is Julie Powell. Can you hold?
- Yes. - Great.
- Lower Manhattan Development... - Julie, it's Sarah.
The New York Times. I can't believe it!
I know. I know, I know, I know, I know. Can I call you back?
I have to call you back. Hold on.
Hello, this is Julie Powell. How can I help you?
- Hi. - Hey.
Guess what? Messages on machine?
Sixty-five.
- Sixty-five? - Sixty-five.
If this is the Julie Powell in this morning's New York Times, this is Judy Clain.
I'm an editor at Little Brown and I wanted to talk to you about
whether you were interested in writing a book.
You can call me at (212) 049-0067.
Hi, this is Sarah Chalfant. I am a literary agent.
I don't know if you have an agent,
but I would love to talk to you about representing you.
- I'm a producer at the CBS Morning News. - Eric, I'm going to be a writer!
You are a writer.
This is Ruth Spungen, I'm an editor at Food & Wine Magazine.
Please give me a call at (212) 157-3245.
- I have to make a pear tart. - Later.
Hi. It's Mom. You're in The New York Times!
I can't tell ya, everybody is calling.
And Aunt Jessie's cousin Dorrie in Abilene,
the one with the husband who won the pie-eating contest
and is a crossword puzzle nut,
they have a subscription to The New York Times. They saw it in Abilene.
Everyone is so excited!
This is Ken Dryer. I'm an editor at Random House,
and I just read your blog and it's great. And we'd love to publish something.
I'm an editor at Bon Appétit.
Hi, I'm a producer at the Food Network. We'd love to meet with you.
- Talk to you. - We have some ideas.
I don't know whether you're thinking of turning this into...
- A book. - A movie.
- A television series. - A one-woman show.
- Call me. - Call me.
Call me.
Thank you, God.
Gimlets.
- Here you go. - Thank you.
- Hi, this is Julie. - And Eric.
- And we are busy cooking. - And blogging.
And other stuff, so leave a message.
- You make them better. - I just make them stronger.
Hi, it's Barry Ryan from the Santa Barbara News-Press,
and I'm writing an article about Julia Child's 90th birthday
and I asked her about your blog,
and, frankly, she was kind of a pill about it so I thought maybe you'd want to comment.
Hello?
Yes, it is.
She said that?
Julia Child said that?
Has she read my blog?
No, I don't really wanna comment.
But thank you for calling.
Julia hates me.
Jule?
They hate us.
Who?
Houghton Mifflin.
- They don't hate you. - They do. They absolutely do.
No, they say the book is good.
But they don't want to publish it.
Well, they think it's too expensive. They think it's "economically prohibitive."
Eight years of our lives just turned out to be something for me to do
so I wouldn't have nothing to do.
Oh, well.
Boo-hoo.
Now what?
- You're a teacher. - Yeah.
You can teach.
Right? We'll go home and...
Where's home?
Where do we live?
- Home is wherever we are. - Yeah.
All right? And we'll work it out. We'll figure it out.
- You can teach in our kitchen. - True.
You can teach on television.
Television?
- Me? - Yes.
- Paul. - No, Julia.
I think you would be excellent on television. I do.
- Paul! - I do. I do.
Don't...
I'm not kidding you. I'm not.
Someone is going to publish your book.
Someone is going to read your book and realize what you've done.
Because your book is amazing.
Your book is a work of genius.
Your book is going to change the world.
Do you hear me?
You are so sweet.
You are
the sweetest man.
Fuck them.
Judith, would you take a look at this?
Our intrepid literary scout, Avis De Voto,
is friends with some woman who's written a huge French cookbook.
Houghton Mifflin just turned it down.
"French Recipes for American Cooks." Terrible title.
Have fun, Judith.
Yum.
Oh, my.
- Here it is. Of course. - What...
- Who's that? - I don't know.
Special delivery for Mrs. Julia Child.
Chilly!
There you are.
Dear Mrs. Child,
we have read your superb French cookbook,
studying it, cooking from it, estimating, and so on.
And we have come to the conclusion that it is a unique book
that we would be very proud to publish.
Paul! Paul!
What? What, what, what, what?
Knopf...
Knopf wants to publish our book.
Is it "K-nopf" or "Nopf"?
- Who cares? - Who cares?
They want to offer us an advance of $1,500.
Oh, my God.
"We believe that your book will do for French cooking in America
"what Rombauer's the Joy of Cooking did for standard cooking.
"And we will sell it that way."
Julia!
When we meet, which I hope will be very soon,
I especially wanna talk to you about the title of the book.
Because it is of the utmost importance that the title distinguish this book
from all the other cookbooks on the market.
- Is this the way you normally do this? - Absolutely not.
"Mastering the Art of French Cooking."
What do you think?
Well, at this point, I have no idea whatsoever.
- Julia, that won't do. - All right, then.
I love it.
She said "hate"? Julia Child used the word "hate"?
No.
But she said I wasn't respectful, or serious, or something.
How much more serious could a person be?
Do you think she thinks I'm sort of using her?
She can't have read your blog.
Did she read it?
He didn't know if she'd read it.
But she definitely had an opinion about it.
Do you think it's because I use the "F" word every so often?
Could be. Who knows?
Look, there's something wrong with her if she doesn't get what you're doing.
There is nothing wrong with her. Nothing.
I've spent a year with her. She's perfect.
The Julia Child in your head is perfect,
the Julia Child that doesn't understand what you're doing is not perfect.
The one in your head is the one that matters.
I'm never gonna meet her.
But you already know her.
- Thank you. - You're welcome. Anytime.
- She saved me. - You saved yourself.
I was drowning and she pulled me out of the ocean.
Don't get carried away.
Julia Child began learning to cook
because she loved her husband, and she loved food,
and she didn't know what else to do with herself.
And, in the process, she found joy.
I didn't understand this for a long time, but I do now.
Julia taught me that.
But here's what Julia really taught me.
So here we are.
One day to go and one recipe.
You may think that boning a duck is an impossible feat.
- And the whole procedure... - Nothing is impossible.
... can take as long as 45 minutes the first time because of fear.
Don't be afraid.
No fear, Julia. No fear.
Take your knife, confront the duck.
Confronting the duck. You're my duck.
You make a deep slit down the back of the bird
all the way from the neck down to the tail to expose the backbone.
And with a small, sharp knife, its edge always cutting against the bone...
I did it. Look at that, Julia. It looks just like yours.
... down one side of the bird... ... pulling the flesh.
Thread the boned duck on a board, face skin side down.
... patting it into place. Roll out the dough.
... two hours and remove it from the oven and let it cool for several hours.
It looks exactly the way it's supposed to look.
Here you go. Can you grab the plates, too?
- You sure? - I got it.
Coming around.
Here she comes. Wow!
Thank you. La pièce de résistance.
365 days. 524 recipes.
- Congratulations! - Thank you, guys.
Babe. It's fantastic.
So great.
I love it. I love it.
Eric, I could never have done this without you.
As someone once said,
you are the butter to my bread, the breath to my life.
To my husband.
I love you, babe.
Thank you.
So it's over.
The project has come to a close. We're back exactly where we started,
Eric, me, the cat, slightly worse for wear,
sitting in the outer boroughs, eating.
So thanks, everybody.
And guess what?
Bon appétit.
See how the counters are raised? She had them made special.
There's her famous mortar and pestle.
If you say so.
- Perfect. - Take my picture.
Okay.
That's nice. Give me something else.
Here we go. Talking to her.
That's good.
One more.
Very sweet.
That's it. That's the one.
That's the one.
Just give me a second.
I love you, Julia.
There you are!
That smells good. What are we having?
Navarin d'agneau.
Something for you.
Subtitles by LeapinLar