I whipped up the confectioner’s sugar into the eggs, and voila! my thoughts returned to the last time I made madeleines. I want to be Julia Child. I want to live in Paris in the 50’s. Go to le Cordon Bleu, and be an all-around great dame who understands the merits of real butter and lots of it. Gawd! Meryl Streep is a genius is there anyone she cannot play? Julia Child was a genius, an American original who was resolutely herself every step of the way. She was dazzling and delightful. And the city of Paris appeared almost mythical. After Julia, it was my favorite character in “Julie and Julia”. I gotta get there, soon. Before I turn forty. And after these madeleines, it’s onto beurre blanc… 
Paris became a part-time obsession. The food! The chocolate! The pastry! The art! The bridges! The echoes of literary giants in boho cafes! The je ne sais quoi-ness of it all! Paris was a symbol for artful style and quality that I needed to observe and experience in order to grow.
However, the littlest kiddle was still a baby, and the other two weren’t much bigger. The concept of international travel sans les bebes was far-flung and rather unlikely. Plus “Paris is sooo expensive!” Nevertheless, I declared often that I would visit Paris before I turned 40.
I made a tin of madeleines after seeing Julie & Julia, as a way of living the movie, and declaring my dream. This batch of madeleines are a celebration of a dream about to come true two months shy of my 40th birthday.
I’m going to knock back a few glasses of wine in honor of Julia, and then a few more just because I’m in Paris. I will tear into my fair share of baguettes, devour delicate pastries, sample a whole lot of chocolate and a bunch of bon bons. I will gorge myself on museums until I overdose on art, and then I’ll plant myself in a café and summon the ghosts of Hemingway and Fitzgerald. I will cross bridges in half-light, and swoon at the well-trodden sights…. 
