A portrait of author, chef and television personality Julia Child taken for our 1998 book
When my cousin Nora Feller and I were writing and shooting the photography for our breast cancer book, Portraits of Hope: Conquering Breast Cancer: 52 Inspirational Stories of Strength, we of course used every contact at our disposal to get to Mrs. Julia Child. We landed a contact at Food & Wine magazine who did the necessaries and we were soon booked to land in Boston. Grabbing an assistant almost on arrival, we made for the Child residence and, once there—despite the slow march into late afternoon—Julia (as we must call her) insisted that she cook for us at once—as we must be “starving from our journey.” As she chopped and whisked she talked candidly about her cancer and her great love for her husband, whose presence could be felt in the homey, traditional home she still presided over. Every room was utterly unpretentious and strewn with family photos, books and the detritus of two long and happy lives. Julia continued to cook away while charming me (alone while cousin Nora set up the photo shoot in the living room) and regaled me with her self-deprecation and down-home wit.
A far cry from her Junior League beginnings, she had amazed herself (and me) with the voyage of her life and the tap, tap of fame that came unexpectedly and without seeking. As she finished preparing my meal she set the dishes upon the table and turned away. But some sixth sense told her not to march off from the kitchen to where the cameraman was waiting. She turned and said, “Marcia, you aren’t eating?” And I replied, “Oh, I am so sorry; I don’t eat eggs. I have about a zillion food aversions.” She turned in mock imperiousness and said, “Marcia, I don’t think anyone has turned down food in my kitchen… I’ll make you bacon.” The eggs slid into the garbage. We laughed as her assistant raced in and said, “They just called from a magazine and need a new head shot,” to which she responded gleefully, “Tell them we have a world-class photographer here and that she will shoot me.” Nora, it seemed, would be getting that payment and it was sorely needed as we had poured much of our own money into the project. With that, Julia turned to go to the living room and winked.
