When we have a baptism in our church, there is a “Baptismal Covenant” that parents and sponsors are to say in reply to certain questions. One of them is: “Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?”

            A cup of tea and good conversation with Julia Child back in 1966 gave my early career a boost. The gracious lady was kind to a young grad student, and I am forever grateful. I thought readers might enjoy hearing about how I got into Julia’s kitchen and how she “respected my dignity” and also helped me.

            I was a PhD student in History at Boston University. I was doing my dissertation on the moral philosopher Josiah Royce, who also wrote the first history of California, in which I was very interested. Most of my research was done at Cal-Berkeley, but I had to do some at Harvard, where Royce and William James taught together in the early twentieth century.

            I had some time to kill while waiting for research material to be brought out, so I took a walk on a nice fall day to see if I could find the homes Royce and James had built next to each other back in the 1890s. I walked up and down Irving Street several times, but I wasn’t sure which houses they were because the numbers were obscure.

At one house I had passed a few times, a person stopped his gardening and asked if he could help me. I said I was looking for Josiah Royce’s home. He said this was indeed it and asked why I was interested. I explained, and he warmed up to the subject and to me. He introduced himself (“I’m Paul Child”) and asked if I would like to see the house. I said yes, and he beckoned me up the walk. He gestured to a woman working on the flowers, saying, “This is Mrs. Child.” I greeted her, and she replied, “How do you do?” Those four words were spoken in a voice and with an accent I’d never heard before, like a choir member singing the soprano and tenor parts on alternate notes.

            Mr. Child took me on the tour, which was very interesting. The phone rang in another part of the house, and his wife answered. The call was for him, so Ms. Child stepped in as tour guide when he went away. We soon found ourselves in the kitchen. Now I should say that my parents were immigrants from Atlantic Canada, and that our modest means and culinary outlook did not include haute cuisine. So, even though I was in the kitchen of, and with, Julia Child, I had no idea I was in a culinary holy place.

 But, as a bright, polite and well-brought-up boy from the working class, I noticed my spectacular surroundings and exclaimed, “Gosh, Ms. Child, you’ve got a great kitchen!”  With a grace that never faltered she said, “One does like to cook.” Even though she was with the stupidest boy in New England in terms of cooking, she made me feel like my visit to her kitchen was special for her.

            Julia said she’d like a cup of tea and asked me to join her. She produced some sweet finger food, little tarts I think (imagine me being in Julia Child’s kitchen and I can’t recall her original recipe!). She showed an interest in my work and asked what I was doing in my thesis. She warmed up to the subject, and asked if I would like to meet her neighbor, then an elderly lady, who would have been around when Professors Royce and James built these homes. I said I would indeed like an introduction.

I later left their home with good wishes from Paul and Julia, though never realizing where I had been, other than being in the Royce home. In about a week, a hand-written note from Irving Street arrived. Julia had fixed up an appointment for an interview with the neighbor. In due time I conducted the interview, which helped my dissertation in a small but important way.       

Several months later, Julia was featured in a national magazine. The story told of her fame and exploits in the art of French cooking. I was astonished, of course. I told everyone I knew I’d been in Julia’s kitchen. No one believed me until I produced the note she’d sent. This story is not about my ignorance nor my good, if dumb, luck. Rather it is about a great lady who deigned to show kindness and grace to a poor grad student, and did so in a way that did not diminish me. It is an example I have tried to follow in my own life. I will never forget my tea with Julia Child, but I sure wish I could remember the pastry she served!

Tea and Pastry Photo by Serghei Savchiuc on Unsplash