Paris, among the preeminent metropolises globally, embodies not merely romanticism but also beckons as a realm ripe for exploration. Since my graduation, a fervor for baking has coursed through me, entwined with an enduring yearning for France. Perhaps it was the celluloid enchantment of Disney’s “Ratatouille” during my formative years that kindled this longing. The poignant imagery of a diminutive mouse, harboring epicurean aspirations, scaling Parisian rooftops to dream of culinary conquests left an indelible mark. It is a sentiment so profound that a pilgrimage to Paris feels almost obligatory. Why does the bakery perpetually waft an irresistible aroma, only for the scent to elude me within its confines? With…