Just Julia

"In France, Paul explained, good cooking was regarded as a combination of national sport and high art, and wine was always served with lunch and dinner. 'The trick is moderation,' he said.

"Suddenly the dining room filled with wonderfully intermixing aromas that I sort of recognized but couldn't name. The first smell was something oniony - 'shallots,' Paul identified it, 'being sautéed in fresh butter.' ('What's a shallot?' I asked, sheepishly. 'You'll see,' he said.) Then came a warm and winy fragrance from the kitchen, which was probably a delicious sauce being reduced on the stove. This was followed by a whiff of something astringent: the salad being tossed in a big ceramic bowl with lemon, wine vinegar, olive oil, and a few shakes of salt and pepper.

"My stomach gurgled with hunger...

"Rouen is famous for its duck dishes, but after consulting the waiter Paul had decided to order sole meuniere. It arrived whole: a large, flat Dover sole that was perfectly browned in a sputtering butter sauce with a sprinkling of chopped parsley on top...

"I closed my eyes and inhaled the rising perfume. Then I lifted a forkful of fish to my mouth, took a bite, and chewed slowly. The flesh of the sole was delicate, with a light but distinct taste of the ocean that blended marvelously with the browned butter...

"Paul and I floated out the door into the brilliant sunshine and cool air. Our first lunch together in France had been absolute perfection. It was the most exciting meal of my life."

Julia Child, in the memoir "My Life in France," written with Alex Prud'homme.