Julia Child's 100th Birthday

Today, August 15, 2012, would’ve been Julia Child’s 100th birthday. If you do not know who she was; she was the forerunner of all of the TV chefs that you see today. She was the Emeril of the 1950s and the Rachael Ray of the 60s, 70s, 80s, and the first part of the 90s. She made cooking cool.

With an ever present wine glass and a jovial Bon Appetit, Child would send her viewers away with a taste of French cuisine and a love for the finer things in life.

It seemed that Julia Child might have also been a spy. According to just released reports from the 1940s, Child worked for the OSS, which was a precursor to the CIA, during World War II. She had tried to enlist in the Navy but was deemed to be too tall. She was 6’2”, which in those days was considered huge for a woman. Still wanting to help out in the war she turned to the OSS, and listed herself incorrectly as 6’; I guess a little white lie never hurt anyone.

She started out in the typing pool, but was quickly promoted to work directly with the top officials in the government agency. She supposedly handled many top secret documents and may have worked covertly as well.

It seems that Julia Child was much more than a celebrated chef. She helped America when she was needed the most. It was only years later that she began to tempt our senses, delve into our souls, and make the world taste just a bit better, the only way she knew how: through our stomachs!

So, here’s to you Julia Child. May your wine glass be full and your memory continue to grow. Happy Birthday and Bon Appetit!

Cheers!

Comments

We Heard You...Another Thought On The EBWW

Now that the euphoria of the Erma Bombeck Writer's Workshop has begun to fade I find myself wondering if it had somehow been a dream. Over 300 of the funniest women around sprinkled with just a handful of men brave enough to withstand such an estrogen filled space. At my first workshop in 2012, I made a lot of friends but was still somewhat shy when I found myself in the company of a famous person. Most of the pictures that I took that year were from the back-- from the back of the ballroom, the back of the classroom and even from the back of the Bombeck family. Yes, I was so in awe of this family that I followed them around and took pictures of the backs of their heads because I sat behind them whenever I could. Fast forward two years and my how things had changed. No more sitting in the back and stalking the Bombecks from behind. In fact, I never really got close to the family this year. (I don't know if they had called security on me or not.) I did exchange

The Thing About Handicapped Parking

Throughout my lifetime I have become an observer of many situations and problems that would otherwise go unnoticed. One such problem is handicapped parking. Everyone knows that handicapped parking is a good idea and helps millions of folks patronize businesses that they normally wouldn't. The handicapped parking spot is great because it allows the disabled to get as close as possible to a business without actually driving inside. But, here's the problem: Once they have finished their shopping and returned to their vehicles there isn't any place for them to return the shopping cart. I'm talking about large parking lots. Most cart returns begin at least six parking spaces down from the handicapped spots. The person is forced to choose between a spot close to the door and a spot close to the cart return. Ever wonder why there are so many shopping carts at the beginning of a row and not in the return area? That might be the reason. Maybe the designers of the parking lots do

A Story For Father's Day

Growing up on the farm on Cherry Fork Road was a lot of fun. We raised tobacco, had a HUGE garden, dabbled in the hog business and had a few cows and chickens. We had a tractor, a wagon, and a manure spreader as well as various lawn mowers, rototillers and chainsaws. My dad loved his chainsaw. I don't remember what the name brand was but it was yellow and matched his pickup truck. Throw in a Kool cigarette dangling out of his mouth and a John Deere hat perched on his head and he was ready to do some sawin'. I remember the year my father got his new chainsaw. It was Father's Day, 1974, and let me tell you, that saw was needed. A late spring thunderstorm had blown through and there were trees everywhere. Trees across the road, trees down in the yard. It was like a tornado had come through. It wasn't that long after the storm had passed when you could hear the roar and the whine of the chainsaws as neighbors up and down the road got to work clearing a path. Dad wasn't

Gianetta Palmer

Search This Blog