When I was ten I learned that my cousin, who was much older than me, had gone to Paris to study at Le Cordon Bleu. I had no idea what that meant, until years later, upon his return, I tasted the fancy meals he prepared for family gatherings and special occasions where he was hired to cater. When he moved to the states in the early 80’s, he opened a restaurant, but unfortunately for him, not at a time when the bay area was accustomed to trying different cuisines – particularly French.  So he was forced to close his restaurant and work as a chef at another, more steak and potatoes place. He died a few years back, after succumbing to cancer, without learning that San Francisco’s French restaurants have become some of the most famous.   I think of him often – about his style of cooking, and his love of French cuisine and every time I am at a French restaurant in San Francisco, I raise a glass of wine to him. I thought …