For Amy

About 15 or so years ago I was invited to a very special dinner in New York City honoring Julia Child at March Restaurant. It was a private affair... Julia had offered a dinner for 50 people and herself at this restaurant, a benefit for the James Beard House.

The couple who invited me asked if I would like to sit at the head table, with Julia Child, the Bratterbury's (sp?) of Food Arts Magazine fame, the hosts and their closest friends. Being the down to earth foodie and wine geek that I was, I of course said yes. Honestly though... I could talk to a wall and have a good time, so talking with Julia Child should be a breeze, the true reason I was asked to be at the table.

The night finally arrived, I was dressed in my 'business best suit', ready to eat, drink, converse about food and wine on an educated level.. praying I don't act like a geek from hell, a name dropping snob, or say something so incredibly stupid I would pray for the floor to open so I could drop into the pits of hell never to be seen in public again.

I don't remember a lot about that night except for a couple of poignant, life enhancing, memorable moments.. Julia (as she insisted on being called) walked into the room where we were sitting at the tables, and a hush, literally a hush fell upon all of us, one of such awe that this 6 foot plus larger than life woman, hunched over, wheezing and laughing, could possess such an aura... such a charisma... so much so that this group of overly sophisticated people were stunned into silence, until... she picked up a glass of Champagne, looked at each and every one of us and she said in her own lilting way, 'Thank you all for coming this evening...Bon Appetit!'

As the evening wore on, course after course after course of wonderful food... tons of question rolling around my brain, I realized one simple fact. I am in such awe of this woman, this woman who literally changed the way Americans looked at food and I cannot talk. I cannot utter one simple word. I am beyond tongue tied...I am a mute. My whole purpose of sitting at the table is for naught. Everyone else picked up the conversation and the evening rolled along.

At one point, just before desert, I asked my friends if Julia would sign my cookbook. They asked her and she said of course, she would love to. Many of the other guests came with their own books for her to sign, new, brand new, so spanking new the binding had not even been cracked. She signed and they were happy. I was a bit embarrassed at this point..almost wondering if the hole from hell was nearby... my book for her to sign was nothing like that.
It was from The Restaurant School in Philadelphia, where I had been a student and this was my textbook and now cooking bible... the base where all my dishes emanated. The binding was cracked beyond repair, the cover ripped and held together by tape and rubber bands. Sections of the book were always falling out...

It was my turn for her autograph, her stamp of approval to me. I opened my bag, and took out this book... the look on her face is one that has never left me... it was the look of someone who KNEW their work was valued, of someone who KNEW all the time and effort put into each and every recipe was embraced... she looked at me and just said "Oh, how lovely. What is your favorite recipe..." And as I pulled out a bunch of dirty food stained pages from the book I realized that was all the validation I needed.

From there, the rest of the evening was a blur, but I remember conversing with EVERYONE and walking out at the end of the night on a cloud.

This is for you Amy... Congratulations on your first day at the Culinary Institute of America.