International Culinary Center, Serious Amateur, French Cooking, Culinary Techniques
I was turning 40. I had always been a glass-half-full sort of girl so I preferred to look at it as “the new 30” rather than “officially over the hill.” Either way, 40 was a hard pill to swallow and I decided to celebrate in Paris wedged comfortably among the culinary greats and the couture. Paris had to be the answer; the best in sex, food and wine available for mass consumption.
In my mind, there was no better place to go when looking for inspiration than Paris. I have never found comfort in religion. Thanks to my father, I have some sort of radical disbelief tied up in the DNA. I have, however, always believed in the restorative power of cooking. I grew up watching my mother cook. Each amazing, sensual meal could turn an every day experience into something extraordinary. It had the ability to connect and bring people together. And on a really bad day, with the chopping and the pounding, it could even provide a cheaper alternative to therapy.