As revolutionary as the book was, it might have only gathered cobwebs in bookstores alongside "Escoffier's Guide Culinaire" if not for Mrs. Child's way with a whisk on camera. Invited onto a book show on WGBH to talk about "Mastering," she chose to whip up an omelet, beating the eggs in a giant copper bowl. Russell Morash, who became her producer, recalled the sight: ''I thought to myself: Who is this madwoman cooking an omelet on a book-review program?"

Viewers were so taken with the frenzy of cooking and relaxed chatter that Mrs. Child was hired to put together 26 segments, for $50 apiece. Although its host was American and regarded herself as a cook, the program was called "The French Chef," a title that would fit on one line in TV Guide. When stations in Pittsburgh, San Francisco and then New York picked the series up, it was on its way.

"I think the secret of her appeal was a combination of joy in what she was doing and a deep desire to teach and to teach well," said Geof Drummond, who produced Mrs. Child's cooking programs in the 1990's. "The food was important to her, and it was important to her that you get it."

With help from her husband she appeared on a set replicating a home kitchen and cooked the dishes of the week, then served them to herself, complete with wine. "The French Chef" became the longest-running program in the history of public television; it was followed by "Julia Child & Company," "Dinner With Julia" and other series.

The unlikely star whipped through quenelles and coquilles St. Jacques with the greatest of ease, moving on smoothly even after dropping pots or announcing she was about to put a gratin in the refrigerator instead of in the oven where it belonged. Years later, she explained her insouciance by saying that she had demonstrated those same dishes many times at her school in France, whose logo she wore on her signature blue shirt, and that she had the technique down cold.

All her programs were distilled to what she called fundamental lessons. In browning meat, it was as simple as "hot oil, dry meat and don't crowd the pan." She would cook chicken fricassee and coq au vin side by side to show that they were essentially the same dish, one made with white wine, the other with red. She advised viewers to "plunge right in" boning a chicken and to "have the courage of your convictions" in flipping a potato pancake. Her fearlessness made great television: she roasted ducks, sautéed sweetbreads and stuffed sausages into casings with grunts of effort. She stayed with WGBH even after her series became a national success because it gave her the freedom to cook tripe, kidneys and other offal that she said would not fly on commercial television.

While Mrs. Child has been credited with inspiring a boom in French restaurants, an explosion of fancy food markets and even the arrival of the Food Network, she insisted her original book and program benefited from "a concatenation of factors" in the early 1960's. It was an era when Jacqueline Kennedy was raising awareness of all things French, and travel to France, which used to take a week by boat, was shortened to mere hours by plane. Duncan Hines cake mixes and Jell-O salads may have been far more prevalent than chocolate mousse and vinaigrette, but Americans were ready to embrace French food, at least as it was translated by a charismatic compatriot.