All language subtitles for JLA.S01E01.720p.WEB-DL.DD5.1.H.264

Paul, darling,
please refrain

from drowning our guests
in vino,

and come here a moment.

Now, how did that get
so empty so fast?

I'll be right back.

That looks good enough
to eat.

Yes, I could say
the same about you.

Mm.

Oh. Voilà.

Ah, it's perfect.

Now, stop stalling and get out
there and read it to them.

Really, Paul.

It seems braggy.

I tell one person
at the embassy,

and it spreads
like gonorrhea.

We're celebrating you tonight,
my darling.

That's why
they're all here.

Yes, I know.

But still, we don't need
to make a meal out of it.

That fish
looks wonderful.

Bon appétit.

Love the capers.

So, when are we going to
hear this famous letter?

Paul can't stop
talking about it.

I know he's your boss,
Heidi, but you must take

everything he says
with a grain of fleur de sel.

Oh, this gravlax is better
than my mormor's,

and if she wasn't
already dead,

she would die if she knew
it was made by an American.

From Pasadena, no less.

Please, Julia,
read it to us.

We're all
so proud of you.

Yes.

Yes, alright.

More Riesling, Anders?

I know, it's a little fruitier
than I expected,

but it's still got balls, and
it's wonderful with the fish.

That's perfect.

"Dear Mrs. Child..."

"We have spent months
looking over your superb

French cookbook -- studying it,
cooking from it --

and we have come to
the conclusion that it is a..."

"...a unique book
that we would..."

drumroll please...

"...be very proud
to have on the Knopf" --

Is it K-nopf or Nopf?

No one k-nows.

Yes, it turns out my time
in France was put to good use.

Paul worked like a dog spreading
American goodwill across Europe

whilst I ate.

Ha!

I'll get it.
Keep reading.

So proud of you,
kitten.

Oh.

"I have been authorized..."

Hello?

"We consider it the best

and only working French cookbook
to date..."

"...which will do for
French cooking here in America

what Rombauer's
'The Joy of Cooking'

once did
for standard cooking..."

"...and we will sell it
that way."

When do we get it
in Norway?

"It is certainly
a beautifully organized,

clearly written, wonderfully
instructive manuscript.

You have already
revolutionized my --"

Is everything alright,
my love?

That was D.C., summoning me
back for a meeting.

Oh, do you think --
Oh, Paul, does that mean...?

We could be back in Paris
in a month.

We will miss you.

Back to Paris!

Hoorah!

Ah, Paris!

Good morning.

Oh, fudge.

Little devil.

Mmm!
Coffee's wonderful.

Thank you, dear.

You look lovely
this morning.

I'm not camera ready,
as they say.

Nonsense.

Mmm.

I guess the book.
That's why I'm there, isn't it?

To promote the book...

before everyone forgets
about it completely.

Such an old gasbag,
that man.

WGBH is a fine
institution.

It's still television.

It's television.

Avis loves her TV.

She needs company.

Maybe I tell
the sole meunière story

and really milk the part
when I cried

from its sheer
deliciousness

and you didn't know
what was wrong.

Don't besmirch it.

I've told that tale
a thousand times.

It's sort of become
my signature.

It's almost like you took
my virginity twice.

First by fucking me
and then by feeding me.

It's mildly depressing, taking
something so seminal to you,

to us, and turning it into
a television anecdote

for Prince Albert
and his ghastly show.

But you'll watch?

I wouldn't miss it
for the world.

That was delicious,
darling.

Now, wish me luck.

An empty canvas awaits
on the slow train towards death

that is forced retirement.

Yes, you and me both.

Has it really
only been a year?

Ooh.

Hello.
I'm Julia Child.

Yes, Mrs. Child.

If you head down the hallway,
you'll find the green room.

Thank you.

Oh, that's awfully kind of you.
How lovely.

I've made a dozen or so
of your recipes so far.

Never been to France, but now my
husband says we don't have to.

Tell your husband
that Julia Child

says he must
take you to France.

Yes, and that's
an order.

Come in, come in.

Mrs. Child?

I just wanted to come by
and say hello.

Ooh.

It was my small idea
to have you on the show.

Ooh, how lovely.

And your name, dear?

I'm Alice Naman,
associate producer.

If there's anything I can do
for you, please let me know.

It's funny
you should say that.

You wouldn't happen to have
a hot plate, would you?

Do we have
a hot plate?

Julia Child is asking
for a hot plate.

Of course she is.

The BBC is making docs
about prize-winning scientists

while we're peddling
cookbooks.

So, we don't have
a hot plate?

I have a hot plate.

I use it to boil water
for my tea.

Right.

- Okay.
- ...camera two.

Your usual comb.

And we're live in five,
four, three...

Hello. And welcome to
"I've Been Reading."

Class is now
in session.

I'm Albert Duhamel,
of course,

associate arts professor
at Boston College,

and today, we're going
to do something

a little bit different.

Instead of, say, Steinbeck,
Capote, Heller,

or even Rand,

my guest this afternoon
writes cookbooks.

Yes, you heard that correctly.
Cookbooks.

Though, to be frank,
it would be rather disingenuous

for me to say
it's what "I've Been Reading,"

as I have never
actually read a cookbook.

Maybe for today, we'll
rename our little program

"What My Wife's
Been Reading."

No, but seriously, folks,
please welcome my guest,

Cambridge's own,
Mrs. Julia Child.

Duke, what a lovely
introduction.

Yes, isn't that what
your students call you
at the college?

It's très charmant.

Now, not to hijack
the conversation,

but would you happen to know
where the outlet is?

The outlet?

Yes, to plug
something in.

Well, I don't understand.
To plug what in?

Well, this hot plate,
Duke.

Ooh.
There it is.

What is she doing?

Nothing to it
but to do it.

So, I thought I'd make
a classic French omelette.

Are you alright
down there?

I'm not sure the cord's
quite long enough.

That -- Ooh.
Heavens.

Got it. There.
Where were we?

Uh, omelettes?

Omelettes.
Yes. Of course.

I just need this sucker
nice and hot.

A sizzling hot no-stick pan
is essential.

Eh, for making
an omelette?

Well, yes, of course.
Keep up with me, Duke.

Do you like
a good omelette?

Sure. Why not?

Yes, I just love them.

Nothing more, really,
than lightly coagulated eggs.

It's a perfect meal
and a lovely lunch.

Why is she
so out of breath?

What did you have
for your lunch?

Uh, a tuna fish sandwich.

Oh, dear. Well,
I've come just in time.

They're just lovely
and tender and soft,

and, well, they take
barely half a minute.

Oh.

For you,
let's do three.

You look like
a three-egg man to me.

And then some --
some salt.

Fresh-ground pepper.

Don't be shy.
Give it a good whisk.

Would you like to try?

Oh, I'm going to teach you
to whisk

the way I was taught
at Le Cordon Bleu.

Like this?

Oh, put some elbow grease
into it!

Yes. Exactly that.
You're a natural.

I'm French-Canadian.

Yes, well,
golly, it shows.

Oh.

Oh.

See, a great omelette needs

a great amount of butter.

I'd say
a full tablespoon.

And don't be stingy,
baby.

I like to use an inexpensive
no-stick pan.

Don't be fooled by what
I like to call status pans.

Boys!
You've got to see this!

Aunt Julia's on TV!

Let the butter generously
coat the entire surface.

And just before the butter
begins to brown,

we add the eggs.

Fabulous.

And then just gradually
jerk the pan towards you.

Et voilà!

Over she goes.

And there you have it --
an omelette baveuse.

Salivating practically,
just like you are, Duke.

Shall we give it a try?

Mmm!

It's quite good.

In fact, I'm going to enjoy it,
if I do say so myself.

I suggest you get cracking
and do the same.

Oh!
Oh, cracking.

This is Albert Duhamel.

Thank you,
and good day.

Class dismissed.

And we're out.

Oh, dear, I forgot
to talk about the book.

Oh, well.
Que Sera, Sera.

Well, that was
utterly silly.

Now, if you'll
excuse me.

So, I guess
no one's been reading.

To Julia.

Ooh! To me.

It was marvelous fun,
really.

You could tell, honey.

You were radiant,
just glowing.

Honestly,
you seemed so relaxed.

Ha! I'd have been
shaking in my boots.

Hell, I was, sitting
in my goddamn armchair.

Good God, you were
a treasured guest

in living rooms
all over Boston.

Ah! I'm a little jealous
to have shared you.

But I couldn't
be more proud.

Here, here.
That sole meunière story

gets richer and richer
each time she tells it.

What are you
talking about?

She didn't tell the fucking
sole meunière story, Paul.

She made an omelette...
with a hot plate...

on a coffee table.

I mean, if it wasn't
so goddamn illuminating,

it would have been theatre
of the absurd.

But the table
was staggeringly low.

I -- We -- We don't have
a television, Avis.

Oh.

of a burst of creativity
in my studio.

No excuse.
Shame on you, Paul.

Escargot, madame.

What is it, Paulski?

You've barely said two words
since we left the restaurant.

Honestly, I don't care
that you didn't see it.

Really.
You'd know if I was upset.

I'm upset, darling.
Me.

I just feel so damn guilty
about it.

Missing it or lying
about missing it?

Both, you devil.

Oh, forget about it, Paul.
I have, long ago.

And getting a talking-to
like that from Avis.

Honestly.

If we had a television, I would
most definitely have watched it

and been proud,
to boot.

She had no right.

Then let's just
buy one.

What?

A TV, Paul.

We're not suckers, Julia,
falling for the latest fad.

Well, maybe TV's
not a fad.

Good lord,
it has to be.

I know
I'll never buy one.

Well, good night.

Kiss?

Deep breath.

I was covered in sweat again
this morning. Just covered.

It is the most
peculiar feeling.

Deep breath.

And...

Oh, what the heck.
We're both grownups.

I haven't been in the mood,
or, you know, feeling frisky,

but I guess I can chalk that up
to boredom,

retirement in Boston, Paul lying
about watching me on television.

You have no idea
what I'm talking about.

You're absolutely fine.

You're just going
through menopause.

Night sweats,
reduced sex drive --

it's all completely
natural and normal.

Of course.

How embarrassing.

I have to tell you, I feel lucky
to be the benefactor

of all your hard work.

My wife
has your cookbook.

How wonderful.

Hello?

Darling...

I've just come
from the doctor's office.

Oh, not your back again?
Damn.

I really thought raising
the counters in the kitchen

would make
all the difference.

No, it's not my back.
My back's fine.

Oh.

Then what?

Are you alright?
Tell me, kitten.

I'm right here.

Nothing. It's nothing.

Silly me.

Fit as a fiddle.

Strong as an ox.

Yes, everything's
all as it should be.

I just --
I actually called

because I'm off to Savenor's
to pick something up for dinner.

Any requests?

I trust you.

See you later, then.

Julia!

Oh.

Dorothy.

What a delightful
surprise.

I saw you the other day
on "I've Been Reading."

Oh, you're kidding.
You watched that?

It is sort of awful, but it
coincides nicely with nap time.

You were so funny.

Plugging in that hot plate
with your tush right in my face?

Hilarious.

It's nice
to see you.

Oh, I made a French omelette
for Norman this morning.

It came out perfect.

She's magnificent.

I could just eat her up.

Well, if you cooked her,
I bet she'd be delicious.

I saw Dorothy Zinberg
today

coming out of Savenor's
as I was going in.

Was she with
that awful baby?

Oh, Paul,
she was precious.

And you'll never guess.

She saw me on TV.

Even made Norman
an omelette.

That's nice.

I thought so.

"Dear Ms. Naman,
this is Julia Child writing,

co-author of 'Mastering
the Art of French Cooking,'

and whom you so kindly
had as a guest

on 'I've Been Reading.'"

"Well, no use beating
around the bush.

I've had a recurring thought

that I'd like to propose
to you --

an educational cooking show
hosted by myself."

Julie?

Is that you?

Yes, darling.

Oh, Paulski,
it's marvelous.

And to think my pear clafoutis
helped inspire you.

Get outta here.

"A cooking show that would be
informal, easy, conversational,

and yet timed to the minute.

Because the French
have treated cooking

as a serious profession
as well as an art,

they are far more precise
about their methods.

As I conceive of cooking,
the whole business

comes down
to a series of themes

and variations
in which one learns

and then varies
the technique.

I look forward to
hearing from you.

Yours..."

Julia Child?

It feels flimsy to me.
Not substantive.

This is public television,
for God's sakes.

Not to sound crass, but if we
were doing an educational show

involving cooking
and food,

shouldn't we go
with someone more relatable?

With a more camera-friendly look
and a less distinctive sound.

Shorter.

I --

Well, I see that,
but the truth of the matter is,

we've gotten 27 letters
from hungry viewers

who want more Julia Child.

Really?

Are you sure
about those numbers?

They're on my desk,
Russ.

I can go get them for you
right now if you want.

I'm surprised 27 people
watch us.

That joke is a no-no.
You know that.

27, huh?

Oh, I did
the craziest thing.

I sort of sent in a proposal
to WGBH

about doing a show
of my own.

A cookery show.

Oh, I was hoping
you'd tell me.

You get a drop of that on me,
and I'll kill ya.

Oh. Well...

What were you thinking?

Well, that's just it.
I wasn't.

Don't you have a cookbook
to write?

Well, to be frank,

I think Simca's lost interest,
like the rest of the world.

Oh.

needed a follow-up --
We're desperately behind.

And yet you're out here,
washing your car.

Yes, well, it wasn't
going to wash itself.

You have a living,
breathing husband.

Who would turn this
into the restoration

of the Sistine Chapel,
and I need the car this year.

Oh! Julia!

Damn it.

Cookbooks need lots of
chocolate recipes, Simca.

The moment of truth.

Superb.

Shit.

I've just taken it
out of the oven, Simca.

It looks...

subpar.

I don't know what you did.
Mine looks incroyable.

What I did is follow
your directions

to the letter, my dear.

Your measurements
have not yielded.

Miss Julia,
you know this.

It's not French to be
so exact, huh?

Well, I couldn't disagree
with you more.

It is the exactitude

that is what makes
French cuisine so elevated.

Yes, but you are are forgetting
the je ne sais quoi.

I can't very well instruct our
readers to have je ne sais quoi.

No?

Oh, Simca,
we can't use a recipe

that I'm not utterly convinced
American women can make

if they precisely follow
the directions.

That's what people love
about the first book --

its dependability.

Is it humid out?

No. Not a cloud
in the sky.

Then I don't know.
Make it again.

I will make it again!
I'll make it 100 times

until I get it
exactly right.

It's only one recipe,
ma cherie.

Oh, it's not one recipe,
ma cherie!

And I am starting to lose
my patience

with your unwillingness
to see that.

Fuck a duck!

Oh, thank goodness
you called back.

I didn't mean to hang up, Simca.

I just -- Well, I lost my cool.
It happens.

I'm a healthy girl
with loads of steam, and...

At this rate,
I'm just deeply concerned

that we'll never finish
our big little project.

Hello?

Hello?
Who is this?

This is Alice Naman
calling from WGBH.

Alice.
It's so good to hear from you.

What gives me
the pleasure?

Well, I received your letter
a few days back, and --

and I was wondering
if you'd be willing to come in

so we can talk
face-to-face?

That sounds lovely.

Good morning.

Mrs. Child.
Alice is expecting you.

She's the first door
on the left.

When's your husband
taking you to France?

Come in.

I have a cake.
Would you mind?

Goodness.

It's called
the Queen of Sheba cake.

Sounds so exotic.

Oh, it's not really.
It's actually quite simple,

which is one of the reasons
I adore it.

It's made primarily of lots
of yummy chocolate and almonds,

and if you ask me, it's the best
darn chocolate cake

you've ever tasted.

Walk with me
to the kitchen.

I read it...right away,

and I could see it, but I'm
the only girl here, Julia.

It's hard for me,
and you have to understand,

it was a challenge just to
get them to take you seriously,

which they barely did.

But we've gotten
27 letters.

Is that a lot?

Really?
Sounds rather meager.

For us.

People, women especially,
want to hear from you.

They do?

Oh.

I'm afraid that is the end
of the good news.

Oh, I see.

They're all
such snobs.

I'm sorry I dragged you
down here for this.

I just...

I wanted to
tell you in person.

Well, thank you.

I'm not giving up.
I'm going to keep pushing.

You're onto something
so big.

I'm just sorry
that my colleagues

don't have the vision
to see it yet.

Oh.

Where are
these gentlemen?

Come.

Is that everyone?

Yes. Yes, it is.

Wonderful.
Then I'll begin.

I've heard from
Miss Naman.

Alice gave me
the diagnosis.

Dead on arrival.

I get it.
I look in the mirror every day.

But I'm not giving up
so easily.

One of the advantages
of looking like me

is that you learn
at a young age

how not to take no
for an answer.

I'm sorry?

Make a trial episode,
and I'll pay for all of it --

food, equipment,
the whole kit and caboodle.

Air it, and if it gets traction,
well, we'll go from there.

What kind of cake is that?

Well, say yes, and not only
will I tell you,

but I'll give you
a most generous serving

of the most delicious gateau
you've ever tasted.

And I'll even
share the recipe.

You see, what makes this dessert
so absolutely wicked

is its simplicity.

Your wife could whip it up,
and it would turn out

just like this one
on her first try.

I'm not married.

Oh, well, then I'll share
the recipe with you.

A trial episode, huh?

I think
it's a brilliant idea.

Oh, really?

Yes.
I wish I had thought of it.

With Mrs. Child
covering the cost,

we have nothing to lose.

Look, we've gotten more letters
for this woman

than any other guest in the
history of "I've Been Reading,"

and that includes
some blue chip authors.

I just want to say, for the
record, I'm against this.

No offense.

But is this really
what we think

public television
should be doing?

Cut me a slice.

Hallelujah!

And?

Mm-hmm.

That's my happy boy.

A funny thing happened.

You'll never guess
who I got a call from.

James Beard.

Though I like the way
your mind works.

And just
out of the blue.

Well, who called,
Jul?

WGBH.

Or rather, Alice Naman,
one of the producers there.

Hmm.

it's the craziest thing.

They want me back.

On "I've Been Reading"?

To promote what?

It'll be years before you and
Simca finish that damn book.

Exactly.

Always two beats
ahead of me.

Apparently, they've gotten
an enormous response

from my little omelette-making
performance.

Enormous?
How enormous?

27 letters.

They want to test giving me
my own show.

Naturally, I was surprised,
but it seems awfully fun,

and I did
love doing it.

But, Paul,

I need you here
to be my partner,

to navigate
all of this for me.

So, I'm forced to retire
and you go back to work?

Darling, darling.

I won't do it
if you don't want me to,

but maybe, together,
and if you don't like it,

even if WGBH chooses to take it
forward, I won't do it.

It'll be your call.

I'm awfully proud
of you.

Truly.

But as merrymaking
as it sounds,

I think it's ultimately
going to end up a distraction

from the serious work
you are doing with Simca.

Oh.

That's God damn huge.

Maybe,
when you finish --

If we finish.

You asked me
to be your partner.

And as your partner,
it would be shameful of me

not to tell you
how I really feel.

And how I really feel
is this, darling --

I don't think
it's a good idea.

Thank you, Paul.

Thank you for being honest
with me.

He didn't think
it was a good idea?

Apparently not.

The proposal you pitched
to them?

Kick me while I'm down,
why don't you?

So, you see,
I'm in rather a pickle.

A Paul pickle.

It's always
a Paul pickle.

Oh.

How much longer?

Well,
it's another mile.

Oh!

Where'd you pick up
this nasty habit?

Shanghai.

They want to shoot a trial
episode, next week, no less.

Oh, shit.

And I do
so want to do it.

I can hardly
explain it.

When I try to put it into words,
it sounds rather banal,

even to me,
but there was something

about being in front of a camera
like that that just felt right.

It was...

as if I came into focus.

That's fucking beautiful.

You may need to help Paul see
what you've articulated

so artfully.

Don't look at me,
honey.

I'm the third wheel
that crashes your dinners.

Oh, nonsense.
You're the one who figured out

how to get
"Mastering" published.

You know
what you need?

You need someone Paul really
respects to rally his troops.

It's time to bring out
the big guns.

Did you grow?

Oh. Oh, girl,
I think you shrank.

Thank you.

Mmm.
That's just lovely.

And that's the thing,
Judith.

We worked on God damn
Part One 10 years,

and we're already fading
from the discussion.

What discussion?

The discussion
of how we eat.

That's not a discussion.
It's never been a discussion.

Your book made it seem like
we could start

having that discussion
for about five minutes.

But it's not a discussion,
as yet, we have in this country.

Well, it ought to be.

Oh.

Thank you.

I'm not wearing
one of those.

Oh, Judith, really.

Part of the fun.

For you, fine.

Sometimes, when I think,
the choices I made

and the choices Paul made,
the choices life made for us,

I fear, at the end of the day,
that it's all going to add up

to nothing more than lying flat
on a shelf of remainders.

Julia.

Ooh, but at this
stage of my life,

I don't want to
feel invisible.

I want to feel relevant.

I want to be relevant.

Well, then,
you have to do it.

Mmm.

Ooh, that drawn butter
is criminally good.

Why, Judith,
a more liberal dipping

will really bring out the
sweetness of the lobster meat.

Allow me.

Mm.

There's more flesh in there if
you're willing to suck it out.

So, how can I
be of service?

So, you came all the way
to Boston for that?

Sometimes, it's better to have
difficult conversations

face-to-face.

Egads!
They were that disappointed?

They were really hoping
you'd consider their offer,

especially as, as they see it,
you have nothing to lose.

Dinner is served.

Ooh. Dark meat?

Mmm. Yum.

It's just one episode.

Our answer is no.

Shoot it next week,
and then you can walk away.

No questions asked.

I said no.

I'm beginning to think the trip
was to see us, not them.

Oh, Paul.

I have enormous respect for you,
for Anne Frank alone,

but how can I be so base
as to let my good wife

hock her wares like
a door-to-door salesman

on television?

Bon appétit,
everyone.

It's public television,
Paul.

Its mandate
is to educate.

As yet, it hasn't figured out
how to do that

without putting people
to sleep.

But this --
this amorphous thing

they're proposing
could be anything.

You two can make it anything
and do something

to better this still-young
country while you're at it.

You were a diplomat
for so many years.

Think of it
as cultural diplomacy.

And Julia
as our attaché.

Diplomacy?

That's what it is,
isn't it?

Our time in France changed us
both in such a profound way.

What we eat is
so deeply connected

to how we see ourselves,

to our -- our role
in our society.

Imagine...

So true.

And yet, I've never heard it
articulated so beautifully.

Ow!

I can almost see it.

Earthen,
yet international.

A budding rose in
a forest of dandelions.

A beacon
shining her light

into the darkness
of the American kitchen.

It's too much, Paul.

I really think your original
impulse was the right one.

Can't even fathom it
at this point of our lives.

But you're a star.

So, should we say yes?

It has to be rarefied.

And Francophile.

Of course.

If she's going to do it,
she needs to do it right.

Keep it smart.
Keep it true.

At the same time, my love,
I do think it should be a show

where any old American housewife
in the country

can make whatever it is
I'm making.

Brilliant.
French food for everyone,

not just the White House.

And yet, at the same time,
highly discerning.

Highly.

You can see it,
can't you?

Nope.

Yes.

To Julia.

And her
Michelin chicken.

To Julia.

To us.

We should show it
to some people.

A gallery.

This is your moment,
Paul.

Paul. Paul. Dear.

Hmm? Oh.

Mm. Mm. Mm.

Mm. No. No.

What?

What?

Perfect.

Hello, dear.

I'm hoping you can help me
deposit this royalty check.

My cookbook.
I wrote a cookbook.

Must be some book.

Hello, young man.

I'd like to buy
a television.

If you'll follow me.