On The Hotline With Julia

One evening in 1963 I happened to be tuned in to the educational TV channel and there appeared on the screen a pleasant but rather unremarkable looking woman standing in a kitchen. She was giving a cooking lesson. Of course the lady in question was Julia Child. This was one of her earliest shows. I don’t recall what she was cooking, but I do remember how congenial and approachable she was as she demonstrated her cooking expertise and gave clear and concise instructions that made the idea of cooking gourmet foods feel like something that was within reach of mere mortal cooks. From then on, I made it a point to watch Julia’s lessons as often as I could, because, not only were they so educational, but her likable manner and sense of humor made them so enjoyable.

At the time, I was a high school junior with so many things going on in my life that, for several years, I really didn’t have the time to apply myself seriously to learning the art of cooking. Shortly after my marriage, my wife, Sandy, was presented with one of the best gifts she ever received. Her boss at the placement office of the University of Pennsylvania, presented her with a copy of Volume One of Julia’s book “Mastering the Art of French Cooking. ” Still being a junk food junkie, Sandy skipped immediately to the dessert section, but we soon began to experiment with some of the wonderful appetizers, soups and main courses.

As more TV chefs, such as the inimmitable Graham Kerr, the “Galloping Gourmet, ” took to the air, I tried to take time out of my medical studies to learn from them. I still recall with a chuckle the opening of Kerr’s broadcast in which he ran through the set, a martini in hand, and leaped over a sofa without spilling a drop. Whenever Mr. Kerr’s recipe started with a whole chicken, he would hold the chicken up, saying, “First, we cut off the wings. And why do we cut off the wings?” The audience would shout out along with him, “So it won’t fly away.” For about a month during a vacation from school I watched his show every day, then went to the market, bought the ingredients for the recipe he had prepared and made it for dinner. Oh, what lovely dinners my bride and I enjoyed thanks to Mr. Graham Kerr.

If you’ve been following my blog recently, you have read the one titled “My Pre-screening at the Pearly Gates.” During my visit there, I was informed that thanks to our DOKE (Department of Kitchen Efficiency) program, Sandy was being considered by Julia as a future candidate for her eternal cooking classes. You may also recall that I made a somewhat snarky quip implying that Julia might come to regret that decision. Now it’s not that Sandy is a lousy cook. In fact, she has learned a lot about cooking over the years and has come to appreciate healthy eating. She even made Julia’s croissants. Once. (Trust me, it’s a tedious process, and, no offense to Julia, but when you can buy a dozen Paris-worthy croissants at Costco for five bucks, what’s the point?)
When I retired, I completely took over the kitchen from her so that she could spend more time creating her art. Over the intervening years, her cooking skills became a bit rusty.

As my illness progressed, it became more and more necessary for Sandy to take on kitchen responsibilities. Being an artist, Sandy’s mind works very differently from mine. She, let us say, is not the most efficient chef you will ever meet. The DOKE program was devised so that I could supervise her in such a way as to ensure that she got all the different parts of the meal finished at the same time. If not for that, we might’ve had our fish for dinner and our broccoli for breakfast and every pot, pan and utensil in the kitchen would wind up having to be washed by the time she was done.

Readers know that I always had a fascination with cooking that started when I was a preschooler living with my grandmother, whom I joined in the kitchen as she prepared her simple but delicious recipes. One of the things I liked about Julia was that she reminded me in a way of my grandmother who, like Julia, didn’t fuss too much about precise measurements, but cooked from the heart. Liking Julia as I do, I found it was only fair to try to warn her off from her plan to put Sandy in the cooking classes in heaven.

Readers may recall my blog “Hotline to Heaven .” It was a fantasy that after I died, I would be provided with phone service back to Earth so that Sandy could get instructions from me as to how to perform such complex tasks as turning the TV set on. Lo and behold, it turns out that those of us who are prescreened are given the amenity of phone service for the interim between screening and admission so that we can communicate with the immortal teachers we are about to encounter in the afterlife. So I decided to give Julia a call.

Julia picked up on the first ring. “This is Julia Child. Bon Appetite! “

“Norman Dovberg here, Julia. I hope this is not an inconvenient time. “

“Not at all. There’s never an inconvenient time here. What can I do for you?

“It’s about Sandy,”” I said, “You see, it isn’t that she’s ungrateful for your offer to make her one of your eternal line chefs, but slaving over a hot stove for eternity is not her idea of heaven. In fact, when I depart she plans on never cooking another meal for the rest of her life.”

“Oh dear, “replied Julia, “I really should have known that before I suggested she join us in our kitchen. Not everyone, unlike you and me, regards cooking as a pleasure. Understandably, most people would rather eat than cook, and,” she lowered her voice, “in the strictest confidence I want you to know that I’m sort of getting tired of cooking myself. I’m looking into the really superb DoorDash program we’re developing here. Say, I’ll tell you what. How would you like to sign up for the class instead of her and we could let her choose from any other learning experiences she’d prefer. You see, that’s the nice thing about heaven. The experience is really supposed to be heavenly. How about we put her in Graham Kerr’s audience instead? Then she will just be entertained and taste his delicious meals.”

“Thank you Julia,” I said, “I knew you’d understand, and, by the way, while we’re at it, how about you reserve two seats in Graham’s audience. To tell you the truth, I’m getting a little tired of cooking myself. “

“Great idea,” replied Julia, “Matter fact, while I’m at it, maybe I’ll reserve a seat for myself as well.”