My mom is not from Thailand. She is not from Taiwan, or even China. But I was recently reminded of her cooking when I visited Thai Spices & Sushi restaurant in Cary and stopped in for a Chinese food cooking class at the Town of Cary.

When I was a kid, my mom was heavily into Julia Child. We watched her show on TV, and her inspiration etched French cooking into my food memories. Sunday nights in the dining room, we would eat coq au vin or chicken with cream sauce, paired with new potatoes sautéed in butter — divine. My mom perfected tissue-thin crepes we would devour at Sunday brunch, rolled up with a thin layer of jam. When we were very good, we got sweet tea. Is it any wonder I have a sweet tea addiction? But I digress.

Michelle Sun grew up in Taiwan, and her mom ran a noodle shop. Sun helped out when she was in high school and college, and she now shares her talents with Cary residents when they come for Chinese cooking classes at the Herb Young Community Center.

The night I attended, Sun made what I would call “pot-stickers,” but what are actually called wontons. Her proficiency was clear as she stuffed the wonton wrappers with an already-prepared ground meat mixture. Her fingertips dipped in water, she wet two edges of the square wrapper, folded the square into a triangle and squeezed excess air out.

She then dabbed a bit of water on one corner and brought a second corner over to seal the package — all in one deft movement. We all tried, clumsily, to mimic her movements.

“In Chinese cooking, there are no rules,” Sun said. “It is very flexible — you are the magician.”

After the wontons cooked either in miso soup or in bamboo steamers, we got to enjoy the results. As Sun lifted a fat wonton out of the broth from her bowl and began to chew, her eyes rolled back. “Ummm,” she said.

“I can’t help it — it’s so good!”

Narong Sapsuwan had the same look on his face a week later when I met him in his restaurant, Thai Spices & Sushi. What did he like to eat at his restaurant? I wanted to know.

His niece, Chana Sooksang, spoke first. “Panang curry. Every day, he eats panang curry!”

Sapsuwan looked the tiniest bit sheepish, but when he thought about the dish, his eyes lit up, then rolled back in his head, remembering, just like Sun’s had. “It’s just like my mom used to make it — I love it,” he said.

I feel very fortunate Sapsuwan’s mom was a good cook … and that when Sapsuwan was looking for another restaurant location, he chose Cary over several other cities, including Atlanta, Denver and Boulder, Colo. After running a successful restaurant in Berkeley, Calif., for several years, he decided to open a second place.

All spices and basic ingredients are imported from Thailand, and the curry and sauté sauces are thanks to his sister’s recipe. I wondered what made Thai food different from Chinese fare. “We use more herbs than the Chinese,” he said. “The flavors are more complicated, with spicy, salty and sweet on your palate.”

He talked, too, about keeping the taste “delicious and consistent.”

Sapsuwan said the ingredient amounts for each dish predefined, and each person in the kitchen tastes the product to ensure a consensus of opinion.

Sooksang said freshness was of utmost importance. “When we go shopping, green beans, for example, might be expensive right now. When some restaurants might switch to canned, we spend more because we know our customers like fresh.”

The freshness stands out from the first taste at Thai Spices & Sushi.

Easily one of my favorite restaurants, I get the same “comfort food” feeling from their dishes that I would from my mom’s home cooking. When I am away, I find myself craving the spicy basil sauce, thinking about the crunch of crisp green bean, and missing the flaky ginger fish.

Then, when I go back, my first taste makes my eyes roll back in my head, and a gentle “yum” escapes my mouth. Comfort food, indeed.