My mother, however, used a different book, Julia Child, Simone Beck and Louisette Bertholle's Mastering the Art of French Cooking (Knopf, 1961). A two-tome book filled with the most intimidating French food ever, this 48-year-old bible of French cooking already seemed dated to me 35 years ago.

I made a few dishes from it, but, truth be told, I did most of my French cooking from the cookbooks of Jeanne Benoît, Pol Martin, James Beard and several of Julia Child's later publications.

Sometimes I pulled out MtAoFC to make a chocolate soufflé or sorrel soup, but, at the most, I have cooked five dishes out of it.

So when I was invited to a Julia Child-themed pot-luck dinner party recently (yes, the idea was inspired by the Julie Julia movie, which I have yet to see), I wasn't sure what to make.

My course was dessert, so I flipped through the final chapter and found the the most batter-spattered pages featuring the one that had been my mother's nemesis: Charlotte Malakoff.

A cake lined with "doigts de dame" (lady fingers) and filled with almond mousse, this oh-so-French gâteau was doused in enough orange liqueur to drown a mouse.

Hardly as complicated as I imagined, I whipped up the whole shebang in less than an hour, and was dismayed to end up with with a heaping bowlful of almond filling that was rich in cream, butter, sugar and booze.

Wincing at the site of its unappealing curdled texture, I poured it into the mould, chilled it overnight, and hoped for the best.

At the dinner party, a gathering of local food writers and restaurant critics, the subject of classic French cooking was front-row centre.

Has the movie encourage everyone to explore Child's famous tome once again?

Judging by the fact it has reached the No. 1 spot on the New York Times bestseller list, that's already appears to be a given. But will people cook from it?

I was pessimistic, arguing that recipes have evolved so much since then, dishes have lightened up, and anyway, who has the time to spend making such elaborate creations?

"It's not easy to cook from the book," added caterer Denise Cornellier referring to the dated recipe format, "especially because she has the pots and pans listed alongside the ingredients."

Cornellier's first canapés featured "carolines" tiny eclair-shaped cream puffs filled with a smoked-salmon mousse and topped with a green pea glaze. Magnifique! Julia would have swooned. "I don't use pâte à choux (cream puff pastry) anymore," said Cornellier, "but after tasting this, I just might."

Many more of Child's dishes wowed that night.

A "soupe de poisson" (strained fish soup) served by La Presse's Robert Beauchemin was another hit. Spicy, deeply flavoured and garnished with a dollop of roux and a single shrimp, the soup would be an asset to any dinner party or restaurant menu.

Food writer Rollande Desbois, who many refer to as Quebec's Julia Child, prepared the most drop-dead delicious blanquette de veau imaginable. Served with basmati rice, the creamy veal stew was fork-tender and hardly as rich as I anticipated. While lapping up the last of the sauce, I thought to myself: First chilly day this fall, for sure I'm making this for dinner.

A simple roasted leg of lamb with a potato and cauliflower purée prepared by our hostess, Claudette Dumas-Bergen, proved that Child's French cuisine could often be more bistro in style than "haute," especially when compared with today's intricate plate presentations.

And my charlotte?

Despite my fears, it was, in the words of Dumas-Bergen, a sensation. Impossibly light in texture, the cake also wowed me with its sophisticated flavour.

Liqueurs are definitely on the "out" list when it comes to dessert, but this creation showed Triple Sec is ready for a comeback. As the meal came to a close, we all agreed Julia Child is still relevant. Though once hesitant to recommend Mastering the Art of French Cooking, I will now endorse it wholeheartedly.

Gourmet fare must endure its share of trends, but, if anything, this tome proves that classic French fare is not only delicious, but timeless.

Here is the recipe I used to make the Charlotte Malakoff. You can bake your own ladyfingers (a trying task for the amateur), but to keep it simple, consider using store-bought. I'm sure Child wouldn't be thrilled, but the easier this cake is to make, the more likely you are to give it a go. And of that I know she'd approve.

Charlotte Malakoff aux Fraises