Recipes for Life (8 page)

S
EAN WAS AS
excited about my becoming her new stepmother as I was. She was one of the best things to come out of my marriage to John, and certainly the most lasting.

When John and I first got together, his two children were living in Europe with their mother, Pati, a French prima ballerina and the grand niece of Leo Tolstoy. When I read about her in movie magazines when I was a kid, I thought she sounded really impressive—and in actuality, she was. We ended up being great friends.

Sean and I had already been pen pals, so when they got back to the states, we were both excited about meeting in person. Since that day, forty-plus years ago, we’ve remained very close friends and family. She even has her summerhouse next to mine in Washington State.

Sean came into my life right at the time I began pursuing two of my greatest passions: cooking and spirituality. John had no interest in either of these, but he appreciated my spending time with his daughter, who luckily showed an interest in both. So Sean became my spiritual sidekick, kitchen helper, and new-recipe taster (not always the best job in those early days). She was also witness to my first cooking disaster.

John had invited a group of his favorite friends for dinner. He would be cooking on his unique barbecue, which he built himself out of a single piece of volcanic rock. Another thing he handmade was our enormous tablecloth, which he created using longhair French cowhides. It was great for repelling spilled wine, but it was a bit strange washing my tablecloth with shampoo. But then, John was eccentric. John was also a red-meat-only man, so he would grill an entire uncut filet mignon, which he injected with red vermouth and herbs and coated with honey to keep in the juices.

John and his prima wife, Pati.

I painstakingly prepared my first béarnaise sauce, which I had learned from Julia Child’s
Mastering the Art of French Cooking.
To my relief, it turned out beautifully. A few minutes before the meat was ready, I put warm water into the kitchen sink, then carefully set my bowl of béarnaise into it to keep it warm. Then I went to get everything else ready.

I returned a few minutes later to find my perfect béarnaise swimming in water. To my horror, the faucet had leaked. The sauce was reduced to liquid, and I to tears.

Cooking lesson number one: Never define yourself or your value by whether you burn the buns or swamp the sauce. I was the only one who thought I’d ruined the evening. Cooking and everything else became a lot more fun when I stopped being so hard on myself—but that was a lesson that took a long time coming.

Like any recipe you prepare over and over again, you begin to put your own twist on things. Perhaps one chef you admire uses too much garlic for your taste, or you might like someone’s version of a cream sauce, but there may be an element someone else uses that you like even better. So you mix and match and you make it your own. But in Julia’s case, she made the definitive béarnaise sauce. Here’s Julia’s original béarnaise (reprinted with permission from
Mastering the Art of French Cooking
)—I hope you like it as much as I do!

¼ cup wine vinegar

¼ cup dry white wine or dry white vermouth

1 Tb minced shallots or green onions

1 Tb minced fresh tarragon or ½ Tb dried tarragon

⅛ tsp pepper

Pinch of salt

A small saucepan

3 egg yolks

2 Tb cold butter

½ to ⅔ cup melted butter

2 Tb fresh minced tarragon or parsley

Boil the vinegar, wine, shallots or onions, herbs, and seasonings over moderate heat until the liquid has reduced to 2 tablespoons. Let it cool.

Then proceed as though making a hollandaise. Julia’s hollandaise sauce, which I think is perfect, is also included in this book for you (page 80). Beat the egg yolks until thick. Strain in the vinegar mixture and beat. Add 1 tablespoon of cold butter and thicken the egg yolks over low heat. Beat in the other tablespoon of cold butter, then the melted butter by droplets. Correct seasoning, and beat in the tarragon or parsley.

B
EFORE
J
OHN AND
I fell in love, I’d never been out of the United States. John was thrilled, since he liked being the first to show me beautiful new places. He felt the best way to do it was by car, so we bought a silver-gray Jaguar in Zurich, Switzerland, and drove straight to Bern to see Ursula’s family. We even went hiking in the mountains with Urs’s amazing mom, who, in her late eighties, could still leave us behind.

John wanted to head north, do a tour of the Baltic countries, and show me my roots in Norway. But all I could think of was that I was so close to the place I had dreamed of all my life: France.

The moment we drove across the Swiss border and our tires touched French soil, John said I cried for two hours; I was so excited. I’ve always had an inexplicable love and passion for France. The day I went to Versailles, I felt like I had gone home. Even when I was in junior high and high school in Southern California, I took French instead of the more customary Spanish. Later I went to Berlitz and took so many French lessons that my teacher, André Demir, ended up being one of John’s best friends.

My connection to France is wondrous; my love of French cooking, and that thread that has gone throughout my life in so many ways.

John and I did end up driving all around Europe, including seeing my ancestor’s homeland, Norway.

J
OHN ALSO INTRODUCED
me to camping. One summer, we traveled the entire California coast, then made our way up to Oregon to visit two of his closest friends on location. Richard Jaeckel and Sam Gilman had both landed roles in
Sometimes a Great Notion,
a film based on a best seller, starring Paul Newman. John had worked with Paul on
Exodus
, so he felt comfortable visiting them all.

It was a wonderful experience for everyone. I also had the honor of meeting Paul’s wife, Joanne Woodward. I loved that they were living proof that a Hollywood marriage could work.

One of the first photos John took of me.

Paul wasn’t only starring in
Sometimes a Great Notion
, he was also directing it—and so well that the film earned Richard Jaeckel an Oscar nomination.

Paul and I crossed paths again when I was doing the play
Legends
and he agreed to play the voice of Paul Newman, as it had been written years before when Carol Channing and Mary Martin were the stars. Paul made a recording for the show, and it was great fun hearing his voice every night for nine months while we did the play.

For our next camping trip, John bought an Excalibur, which was styled after the 1928 Mercedes-Benz S convertible tourer. John not only loved driving that car but at night he used it to create these wonderful
Hajji Baba
–style tents for us; each time, making our home away from home a little different, unique, and magical.

Every campfire became an opportunity to cook together. We’d sit under the stars, sharing stories about our lives that we’d never had time to do before. These were some of the most romantic and intimate moments we’d ever spend together.

O
NE OF THE
people I had the pleasure of getting to know during my marriage to John Derek was The Duke (John Wayne). He and his lovely wife Pilar would invite us to their home in Newport Beach, then take us aboard Duke’s amazing boat, the
Wild Goose
, which, if I recall correctly, was a converted mine sweeper or some other unusual and massive vessel.