She’s as legendary in publishing circles as her most celebrated culinary author. It’s not an exaggeration to say that without Judith Jones, an editor at Knopf, Julia Child may not have become the iconic person and personality who became a driving force in changing how America views food and cooking.

Physically, the two women couldn’t have been more different: Child was famously tall and broad-faced; Jones is slight and, at 92, still slender and lithe. But their lives had significant parallels. Both came from stuffy upper-class families: Child in Pasadena, California, Jones in New York City and Vermont. In both households, food was bland, boring, not considered a suitable topic of interest or conversation at the dinner table or elsewhere. Both married older, urbane men and did not have children. Most importantly, both came to learn about and love French cooking in post World War II Paris, though their paths never crossed there.

The Childs were older than the Jones and, in Paris, more prosperous. Paul Child’s work at the American Embassy concentrated on art and culture; the Childs participated in the embassy’s social whirl. When Julia began cooking lessons at Le Cordon Bleu, her father was so appalled he offered to pay for her to hire a cook.

The Jones’ lives were more Bohemian.

Evan had worked on the American Armed Forces newspaper, Stars and Stripes, then started a magazine for American tourists. Judith, wanting to “break out of the mold that my conservative parents had projected for me,” travelled to Europe, garnering permission by sailing with relatives. She fell in love with Paris, and resolved to stay. She fell in love again after applying for a job as Evan’s assistant. The couple “lived in sin” until Evan could divorce his long-estranged wife. The Jones shared a passion for good food, but couldn’t afford Paris’ fine-dining establishments. Instead they became regulars at humble bistros and shopped daily at Paris markets, cooking together in miniscule kitchens; often with just two burners and no oven or refrigerator.

By the late 1950s, both the Jones and Childs were back in America. Judith was working as an assistant editor at Knopf when she was handed Julia’s opus magnum, Mastering the Art of French Cooking (cowritten by Simone Beck and Louisette Bertholle) by a colleague who knew of her interest in French cooking. The massive manuscript had been rejected by other publishers, but Jones says, “From the moment I started turning pages, I was bouleversée, as the French say – knocked out.”

Julia Child wasn’t Jones only culinary author; others include Madhur Jaffrey, Lidia Bastianich, James Beard, Marion Cunningham, Marcella Hazan, Jacques Pépin and more. Evan Jones became a freelance author; publishing many food-related magazine pieces, as well as books including a James Beard biography, a “definitive” exploration of cheeses, and collaborations with Judith on New New England Cookery and breads. According to Evan’s 1996 New York Times obituary, “their own jointly cooked meals (became) such a New York institution that (food) critic Stanley Kaufmann once described their… apartment as “the best restaurant in New York”’.

Extraordinary as Jones’ career editing cookbooks has been, it’s only part of her accomplishments. As an assistant editor for Doubleday in her early Paris years, she rescued The Diary of Anne Frank from a rejected pile of manuscripts. At Knopf she translated works by Jean-Paul Sartre and Albert Camus and was the long-time editor for celebrated authors, including John Updike, Anne Tyler, John Hersey and Elizabeth Bowen. When working with pianist Arthur Rubenstein on his memoirs, Jones was so impressed by the lunches his wife, Nela, prepared that she persuaded Nela to codify recipes that existed only in her head. Nela’s food was legendary; after Nela’s Cookbook was published, Cary Grant called to thank Jones for persuading Nela to share her recipes.

Jones relates all this and much more in her fascinating memoir, The Tenth Muse, My Life in Food, published in 2007. Eight years later, at age 92, she’s far from finished, recently releasing a new book, Love Me, Feed Me: Sharing with Your Dog the Everyday Good Food You Cook and Enjoy. But that’s a tale (tail?) – for another column.

Jones says of this recipe:

“One day when I went down to Jim’s West Twelfth Street house (in Manhattan’s Greenwich Village) to work with him on his pasta book, he greeted me with the happy news that he had just tasted a fabulous pasta dish with swordfish that he was going to make for me for lunch. It has become one of my favorites; I often make it for myself after I’ve enjoyed a big slice of broiled swordfish and set aside a piece for this dish.”

Jones says she departed a bit from Beard’s recipe, using tips she learned from Lidia Bastianich. Swordfish’s meaty texture works perfectly here; if it’s not available, substitute other firm-fleshed fish such as mahi mahi.

James Beard’s swordfish-olive pasta

• 3 ounces swordfish, at least 1 inch thick

• 1/3 c. finely chopped Italian black olives

• Salt and freshly ground pepper

• 3 ounces fusilla, penne or ziti pasta

• 1 large shallot, sliced thin

• 1 fat garlic clove, sliced thin

• 2 T. olive oil 

• Chopped fresh parsley

If your swordfish hasn’t been cooked, line the broiler rack with aluminum wrap, rub on a little oil, set the fish on top and broil 4 minutes on one side. Turn, top with the olives, and broil 2 to 3 minutes longer. If you are using precooked swordfish, just heat it briefly under the broiler with the olives strewn on top.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil, and drop in the pasta. While it cooks, sauté the shallot and garlic in the olive oil over low heat until they are soft; don’t let them brown. Add the herb and capers. Slice the swordfish in thin strips, and spoon it and the olives into the shallot-caper mixture.

When the pasta is al dente, drain it, reserving 1/2 cup of the cooking water, and mix in the pasta with the swordfish, adding pasta water as needed to moisten the pasta and make a few tablespoons of sauce. Salt and pepper everything, then toss into a warm bowl and sprinkle parsley on top.

Serves 1 as a main course, 2 as a beginning pasta course; can be easily multiplied.

Jones and husband, Evan, created this simple and simply delicious recipe as a new way to use “good Vermont maple syrup” in their The New New England Cookbook. Illinois maple syrup works fine, too.

Frozen maple mousse

• 1 c. (pure) maple syrup

• 2 egg whites

• Pinch of salt

• 1 c. heavy cream

Pour the maple syrup into a 1-quart pan and set over medium heat.

Meanwhile, put the egg whites in the bowl of a standing electric mixer with the salt and beat until they form firm peaks.

Watch the syrup carefully now; as the large bubbles start to become smaller bubbles, scoop up a spoonful of syrup about 8 inches above the pan and let it fall back in; if the falling syrup spins a thread, remove the pan immediately from the heat (it should be about 260 degrees).

With the electric mixer going, pour the hot syrup in a thin steady stream into the egg whites. (Continue beating a few minutes more, then let the mixture cool to room temperature.)

Pour the cream into a separate bowl, preferably over a panful of ice to get greater volume, and beat until soft mounds form. Fold the beaten cream into the mapleegg mixture, turn into a serving bowl or individual sherbet glasses and freeze for 2 hours or more before serving.

Serves 6.

Contact Julianne Glatz at realcuisine.jg@gmail.com.

Excerpted from The Tenth Muse: My Life In Food by Judith Jones. Copyright © 2007 by Judith Jones. Excerpted by permission of Knopf, a division of Random House LLC. All rights reserved. No part of these excerpts may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.