Circle M Farm

Every time I put a Julia Child disc into the DVD player, I start off looking for laughs and end up looking for a pencil and paper.

Let’s face it – every episode has moments of hilarity. Although I’ve read, contrary to popular opinion, that Julia was never ever inebriated on the set, she certainly seems a bit loopy lots of the time. But I’m pretty convinced she was just genuinely having fun – loving the food, loving the facts and loving the whole opportunity to share her wisdom with an audience. Imparting years of accumulated knowledge was her great strength, the quality that still sets her apart from the network-sized pool of perky modern food show hosts, and the aspect of the show that sends me running for a notepad at some point in every episode.

In fact, I watch most episodes twice, once just for kicks with the family and again by myself, so I can really absorb what’s been conveyed. I rarely copy a recipe down, especially since most of them can be found in Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Vol. 1, which I have. But I’m fascinated by the history Julia brings to every dish, the education on buying and understanding ingredients, the brief but thorough instruction on using the tools, cutting the vegetables, serving the meals and even eating the food (see The Lobster Show!).

“To Roast a Chicken,” an episode from 1970, is a good case in point. Lamenting the reduced variety of chicken choices available in the groceries (even back then in the 60s), Julia takes it upon herself to educate the viewer about the virtues of purchasing chickens of a particular age and size for a particular use. I confess I knew practically nothing about the topic before viewing the show, in spite of the fact that I raise and butcher my own.

“Julia Child presents the Chicken Sisters!” says our host in her particular airy, sing-song voice. Standing behind a row of headless plucked chickens balanced upon their rumps along her kitchen counter, Julia points to each bird with a gigantic iron chopping knife. “Miss Broiler, Miss Fryer, Miss Roaster, Miss Caponette, Miss Stewer and Old Madame Hen. But we’re spotlighting Miss Roaster of the year! Measuring in at 14-15-14! We’re roasting Miss Chicken! Today! On The French Chef!” (You can watch this scene on YouTube.)

And here’s where I get busy taking notes:
Broiler: two to three months old, 1 1/2 to 2 1/2 pounds
Fryer: three to five months old, 2 1/2 to 3 1/2 pounds
Roaster: five to nine months old, about 6 1/2 pounds
Capon: castrated rooster seven to ten months old , about 8 lbs
Caponette: rooster given hormone pills
Stewing Chicken: older chicken under 12 months of age
Soup Chicken: hen past its laying years

Most chickens for sale are no longer labeled in this manner, and they weren’t even back then in America. So Julia illustrates how to examine the tip of the breastbone, located at the top of the large cavity, opposite the legs. In a young chicken, the tip is still flexible cartilage, as in a broiler or fryer, while in an older chicken you’ll find solid bone. Fascinating, and a skill I’ll employ when labeling my own chickens as they enter the freezer this year.

Julia’s favorite size, in this episode at least, is the roaster. Firmly patting the raw golden-skinned breasts (thankfully the episode is in color), Julia calls the plump roaster a “beautiful birdie… in the full glory of its chickendom.” While extolling the virtues of a chicken old enough to have acquired taste, she proceeds to clean, truss with with a gigantic needle and twine, “massage” with butter, season with bacon and roast on an automatic spit in her oven the magnificent fowl.

I’ve come to love looking at Julia’s hands. Though she’s got lots of other endearing mannerisms, like the deft threading of a cotton towel through the waist strings of her apron, her hands are what draw my focus throughout every show. Always moving, her hands are most often caressing some raw food, whether it’s a tomato, or tripe (a cow’s stomach) or a sausage casing (of pig intestines). I’ve come to look at my hands differently. I’m learning to watch my hands as they cut vegetables, and I’m becoming a better slicer from trying to cut like her.

Julia takes lots of time with each task, and pays much attention to detail through some rather elaborate recipes. But she never assumes the unapproachable posture of perfection characteristic of, say, a Martha Stewart. Instead, you get the feeling that each recipe is absolutely within your reach. Perhaps that’s because on each show Julia either flips a potato pancake right out of its skillet, or flubs the name of a dish or goes absolutely blank on the end of a sentence. How can you be intimidated by someone who regularly talks toward the opposite direction of the camera?

In her very first show, “Boeuf Bourguignon” from 1963, Julia expresses appreciation for the beef stew recipe because, “It shows you so many useful things about French cooking: how to brown meat, how to braise onions, how to saute mushrooms, how to make a wonderful sauce.” She has chosen to start with this dish because the techniques can apply to any stew you’d make at home, whether with chicken, veal or pork. In preparation for the episode, she says she’s tried several different beef cuts and has decided she prefers chuck for the stew. Not content to just leave it at that, Julia lays four pieces of beef chuck out on a large wooden block and illustrates, on her own body, where each cut comes from on the cow! I can’t imagine I’m alone in finding this sort of information invaluable in an age where our only orientation of meat prior to consumption is its placement in a plastic-wrapped Styrofoam tray.

Emma getting to know her food.

Watching these somewhat dated episodes of The French Chef creates a certain sense of peace in me, while also generating a deep longing to know my food more intimately. I think Julia herself, in a short PBS program recorded later in her life, explained well why this is the case, “The view of history that we get through the kitchen window is a more gentle view, not of war and politics, but of family and community and sharing.” Sounds appetizing and nourishing. And she is.