Here is a pair of revealing biographies about two culinary evangelists who have, more than most, influenced the way we eat today.
Julia Child didn't just bring French cooking into American homes; her endearing, unpretentious personality, along with her obvious knowledge, made Americans love to cook.
By Laura Shapiro
Viking ($19.95)
Alice Waters didn't just create one of the world's most exquisite restaurants -- Chez Panisse in Berkeley, Calif. -- she led a food movement based on eating and cooking with fresh, locally and sustainably grown, organic ingredients.
Despite a shared love of all things French, which both women embraced and then moved beyond, the two couldn't be more different personalities.
And even though these new books are published by the same conglomerate, they're decidedly different.
"Alice Waters and Chez Panisse" by Thomas McNamee is the first major -- and authorized -- biography of Ms. Waters. At 351 pages, it's packed with detail, color and almost too much information, from extensive details about each dining room renovation to the driven perfectionist's string of failed relationships with lovers and business managers. But for people who love food and gossip, it will be irresistible.
By Thomas McNamee
Penguin Press ($27.95)
"Julia Child" by noted food writer Laura Shapiro is the latest entry in the Penguin Lives Series and, at 181 pages, might at first glance look like the Cliffs Notes version of an already well-documented life.
In fact, Shapiro takes everything that's ever been written about Julia and boils it down into a concentrated, nuanced dish, full of piercing insight.
Interestingly, both women make brief appearances in each other's books, but their relations were not exactly cozy. Despite her frequent appearances on television sniffing the fruits and vegetables at little French markets, Child always defended American agribusiness and supermarket produce.
She had little use for Waters' obsession with using locally grown or organic ingredients by small farmers, not to mention her restaurant's menu, which she found simple and uninteresting, according to Ms. Shapiro.
"I don't relish the idea of a plate with three slices of plain veal on it, however well treated, with three undercooked vegetables on the side and nothing else," Child said.
During one public appearance where they shared the stage as related by McNamee, Child scolded Waters.
"You have an unduly doleful point of view about the way most people shop for food," she said, noting that she always found plenty of good things to buy at the supermarket. "And if you don't like the looks of what you see displayed at the market, complain to the produce manager."
There was always that "little back and forth" with her, Waters told her biographer, adding regretfully that Child could have helped push the organic movement along faster if she'd taken it up.
Is it a bit early for a big biography of Alice Waters? Turning 63 this month, she'll still be overseeing Chez Panisse in addition to her work promoting organic, locally grown food and the Edible Schoolyard movement.
It's possible she wanted to set the record straight after Jeremiah Tower, a founding chef at Chez Panisse in the 1970s (and one of Alice's many lovers) accused her of taking credit for his own culinary inventions and was dismissive of her own cooking skills in his 2004 memoir.
Child experienced few such dust-ups. Happily married to an American diplomat, she gallops through life undeterred by setbacks, full of confidence and ambition, beloved by almost everyone who works with her.
Still, there are flaws. Julia seems to have been homophobic and once called for "the de-fagication of American cuisine" although later she participated eagerly in fund-raising for people with AIDS. And she was a dear friend to James Beard, an American culinary icon who happened to be gay.
McNamee's occasionally rambling biography may be the first of many to dissect Alice's life. Despite its brevity, Shapiro's graceful little book should be seen as the definitive analysis of Julia Child's long career.
