Today would have been Julia Child’s 95th birthday, had she not passed away in 2004. One of her last projects, her memoir called My Life in France, did not come out until after she died.
In honor of Julia today, I’d like to whole-heartedly recommend My Life in France.
I should start by saying that while I enjoy food and cooking, I knew nothing – nor had much interest in “the art of French cooking” – Julia’s specialty. You don’t have to be any kind of foodie to enjoy this book.
Julia had such a magical life, and a magical personality to match. But she remained normal and extremely personable. This comes through in her book, and makes it shine. There’s nothing that qualifies her story as tense or especially thrilling, but I found myself completely incapable of putting the book down.
Julia’s style and charming personality made her someone that would have been fantastic to be pals with. No to mention someone you’d like to have invite you to dinner. While reading the story of her learning to discover, enjoy, and cook French food, as well as traveling and falling in love with her husband, I felt like I was actually there for the ride.
This is the book equivalent to being curled up by the fire with a mug of coco. Guilt free though, because it’s wonderfully written.
(This post was brought over from emilyw.vox.com.)