Way back in the 80’s, Julia Child wrote what I consider to be her best book “The Way To Cook”. She had already dispensed with the notion that North Americans didn’t know how to cook, so she wrote one for those of us who could. One of her many promotional stops was in Toronto. A local radio station held a contest for tickets and I got a pair. Julia made Duck Three Ways, a recipe I had already practiced. The skinless breasts are sautéed and sliced into medallions then served with the legs, roasted in a dijon, crumb crust and a frisée salad with crispy duck skin lardons. Julia was mesmerizing, totally in control and so formidable. Age had stooped her, but she still was bigger than anyone in that room. At one point she imperiously proclaimed that the knives weren’t sharp. When a paper touqued instructor presented her with another, she thumbed the edge, hurrumphed, threw it on the floor impatiently demanding another. That knife went on the floor too. Her highness, the goddess of French food was not amused. I’ll never forget the site of three sweating instructors feverishly sharpening knives for Julia while their students gleefully smirked from the viewing stand. It was thrilling. I was meeting a rock star, a star chef before there were any others. Then it was over, pffffffttt! the air was let out and I got a little, innocuous chat time with her before she signed my copy of the cookbook. To this day, “The Way To Cook” is my go to book for any challenging recipe. Every Christmas I make her Steam Roasted Goose dressed with Fois Gras stuffed prunes. Before I start one of her recipes, I detour to the front leaf, and smile a little smile at her autograph. I pictured her then, not the tired old lady with the curved back signing my book, but the towering Empress of the Kitchen, throwing knives and striking fear and doubt into the hearts of lesser chefs and, as it turned out, into the heart of a blogger named Julie.