There are two things I recall vividly about cooking with my mother as a child. Between the clangorous sounds of pots and pans, utensils and slamming cabinets, she’d bellow warnings for me to stand out of the way so as not to get trampled. Instead, (first memory) I’d observe the chopping, pouring, mixing and roasting from a safe distance, making frequent trips to the mini television hanging above the marble counter to raise the volume – noisy dinner preparation muffled the voice of our mentor Julia Child. She was always on, always instructing with wry humor and always acting as a sort of cooking companion to my mother, in and out of the kitchen (second memory). In retrospect, learning of her love for France and her rich ties to the food, culture and people subconsciously contributed to my desire to explore all things French as I grew older. She was a regular guest in our home. That was then.   When I rediscovered my love for baking as an adult in Paris, it was no longer Julia I looked to but someone who has forged a similarly disarming legacy of demystifying French cooking for the American masses while putting her…

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