Jubilant Julia
(as published on www.outinamerica.com)
In the early 1960s, corporate America opened its doors to housewives from sea to shining sea, leaving little time for the traditional “Honey, I’m home” evening. With this women-to-work phenomenon came the need for convenient and speedy day-to-day living, especially in the kitchen. Grocery stores were filled with TV dinners, canned meals and quick-and-easy chefing ideas for the “modern” housewife.
But on February 11, 1963, a fledgling show titled The French Chef began airing in Boston, and the “just add water” sentiment that had plagued the nation finally met its match.
The first true television chef, Julia Child brought about a renaissance in American kitchens. Classically trained in the kitchen and a published author (her book Mastering the Art of French Cooking is still a bookshelf must), Julia Child brought a welcomed rebirth of the love of cooking.
Over the years, her “every-woman” look, de-stylized clothes and rangy voice brought her a wealth of fans, many of which were gay. Gay men everywhere saw this unpretentious, down-to-earth woman as someone they could relate to – someone we all wished we knew. A combination of Aunt Betty, the loud-mouthed, wine-drinking favorite aunt, and Miss Lora, the uncouth, irrepressible neighbor, we identified with Julia Child just as we have with many of the world’s leading ladies.
Her recipes were not quick and easy, and although her preparation techniques were at times clunky, she showed women that they needn’t be afraid of the kitchen – or cooking. But women weren’t the only ones watching.
Seeing this loud, broad-shouldered, loving woman dressed much like a Benny Hill character, gay men fell in love with her honest and likeable persona. Tall and big boned, she had a wit about her sharp enough to julienne parsnips. She encompassed all the things we love in our iconic women. Plus, she loved parsley and coriander. Julia Child became a favorite celebrity of gay men as she kneaded her no-nonsense style of cooking into an art form. And many of us have probably taken to the kitchen, apron and all, pretending to be the Great One herself at least once, if not frequently (although I’m not admitting to anything).
She didn’t put on “airs,” as so many famous chefs were known to do. She was approachable and comfortable. She knew how to cut up a chicken and always advised to save the fat. She loved a good air kiss. And even though she sometimes burned whatever she happened to have in the oven, be it chicken, pie shells or beans, female viewers watched as she picked up the pieces and started over with a mere chuckle and a smirk.
But there was also a sternness that only peeked through the surface. She definitely had her own opinions and ideas about food and was not afraid to share them. While working with the occasional guest chef, it was a frequent occurrence for Julia to politely but sternly insist upon “more salt” or “less heat.” She knew how to take charge.
When it came time to eat, Julia Child was oblivious to the meaning of “princess bites.” It seems her joy of cooking might have been easily matched by her joy of eating. And good wine. She did love her wine.
So it should come as no surprise that Julia Child is a gay icon. Spending her life wrapped in an apron, surrounded by good food, great wine and a seemingly endless supply of poncey chef friends always willing to offer up an air kiss, she whipped, chopped and cleaved her way into our community not only as a master chef and TV personality, but as a well-loved and respected matriarch of gay kitchens.
In the past year since her death, it seems little has changed in the world’s perception of Julia Child. Loved, respected and revered in life, her legacy lives on as vibrantly as before. Here’s to you, Miss Julia – may you never burn the chicken again.
Bon appétit!
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