There's a canary-yellow house at the end of my street. Its claim to fame is that Julia Child once lived there.
She told me this herself, years ago when I was interviewing her for the publication of yet another Child cookbook.
She asked where I lived, I told her, and she said she had lived on that street, too. Years ago. The coincidence seemed to amuse her.
She then asked if I'd do her a favor. Ever the pragmatic soul, she had hung an iron trivet on her front door as the door knocker. She wondered if it was still there.
When I got home, I walked by to see. I sent her back good news. It was there. Her one-word response: Good!
Much will be written about Julia Child this week with the arrival Friday of Julie & Julia, a movie that highlights the culinary icon's life here and abroad, countered with a young woman's attempt to cook everything in Child's classic Mastering the Art of French Cooking.
I have seen only the trailer for the movie, but Meryl Streep, who plays Child, has risen to the occasion once again, capturing the chef's quirky personality perfectly.
The endearing thing about Julia Child, of course, was that she was quirky. I sensed that she didn't even think of herself as such, which added to the charm. Her towering frame. Her lumbering way. Her high-pitched voice. Her hair.
If Child appeared on the scene today, would she get her own TV show? I'm not so sure.
She would probably be given media training, a wardrobe makeover, voice lessons and a new hairdo. Basically, she would disappear.
Look what has happened to Susan Boyle, whose angelic voice made her a sensation on Britain's Got Talent. She got her eyebrows plucked, her hair dyed, her frumpy brown dress replaced with a blue satin gown. Lucky for us she kept her voice.
I think we should leave these people alone. The world hardly needs any more packaged personas. Let's give idiosyncrasy a fighting chance.
I had a photo taken with Julia Child once. It was in her kitchen in Cambridge, Mass., the kitchen that's now in the Smithsonian, the one on whose walls Child's husband, Paul, outlined her pots and pans with a Magic Marker so she'd know where each hung. When we were standing there, smiling, she didn't respond to the photographer's instruction to "Say cheese!"
She said she had a different word to prompt picture-perfect smiles: "Chardonnay!"
And everyone smiled, right on cue.