I remember watching Julia Child on what we called “educational television” way back in the mid 60’s. She seemed exotic and definitely not the General Electric cooking shows that I saw from time to time. I watched and was enthralled.
I remember one time visiting my sister and her family in Plainfield, NJ around 1966 and my dear sister had prepared Coq au Vin from Julia’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Mele wasn’t known for her cooking skills but this was memorable. Really memorable since we had pretty much grown up with canned vegetables and Chef Boyaredee. Problem was that is was SO damn good and she followed the recipe so exactly that after the first serving that was it. Nothing left. But that was also her nature..she was very exacting. We all remembered that sensational dinner but this time the old saying “always leave them wanting more” didn’t satisfy our stomachs.
Forty years later I was asked to make a Tarte Tatin. I was living in Tuscany at the time and yes, one could ask how I got myself in that situation. Not how I came to live there but how I received the request to make such a dessert. I had and still have a dear American friend living in a nearby village and she got me invited to this particular dinner party where the hostess requested the TT. The hostess and her husband were “veddy British”, old school, London Dry, and all of that and also experienced word travelers. At the time I was not all that fired up as a baker of anything let alone an upside down apple pie. I went to work and read every damn thing I could about the tarte and the Tatin sisters. I set about to do this undoubtedly trying to save my reputation as a fairly good cook and my friend’s insistence to the hostess that I was a “professional.” Mmm-hmm.
I researched as if I was trying to reinvent penicillin. I found shortcuts that I knew would be seen as cheating from my hosts. I came across Julia’s recipe and since I didn’t have a copy machine I wrote down every word and proceeded. My friend who had hyped me so well brought me the apples that I needed and dropped them off to me the night before. It was October and the air was getting that particular way which makes you appreciate apples even more. I told her what I wanted- a combo of Granny Smiths and Yellow Delicious. She came up the road in her Saab and handed them off to me. I told her she had no idea what she had gotten me into.
The next day, prepared and ready for anything, I started. The whole thing was to not have those damn apples stick to the pan…but no cheating with a non-stick. I had a stainless steel Cuisinart and that was the designated vessel. Apples sliced and perfectly arranges in the pan, etc. I basted those beauties with an ear bulb (freshly purchased for the occasion) until they were appropriately soft and fragrant and then on went the pastry. I tucked it in and made it look ready for sweet oven dreams. It was beautiful but I also remembered watching a Julia episode where the thing just collapsed as soon as she flipped it. Julia was soooo cool. It was fine the way it was in her book or on that particular episode at least. I shoved it in my Hail Mary oven (that’s another story) and what else? Hoped for the best. Nobody could say I wasn’t prepared.
Make a long story short, my hosts served a less than stellar dinner (well, compared to my blood sweat and pride) and all I could think about was the damn tarte that I had carried on my lap in the car down all of those bumpy country roads. LIke a little apple child. What was going to happen when I flipped it? I whipped the cream thinking that in a short time I’d know.
I placed the platter on the skillet and with total Julia panache I upended it and honest to God, not an apple was out of place. The apples were beautifully rounded and concentric and the juices perfectly flowed throughout. I’m sure the hostess thought I’d done this a million times. I could barely contain my rapture but I did. Yes, it could have been beginner’s luck but it was also a studied and studiously written recipe. Thanks, Julia!
The Tuscan Heart 