From Her Kitchen Table

New York was a sad city last week. The news about Natasha Richardson permeated the air; all hope of her recovery was dashed with Wednesday's headline. It was hard to imagine the pain her family was going through on what turned out to be a beautiful day - the closest we've had to spring so far this year.

So it was with a rather heavy heart that I headed over to Idlewild Books on Nineteenth between Fifth and Sixth after work. I was, of course, still excited. I had waited for the day to arrive since it was announced. I even gave Wendy my opera ticket so I wouldn't miss it.




I carried a small Bon Maison bag with me. In it was a tiny present for Molly along with a bottle of maple syrup from our own trees at the farm. It is soooooooo delicious that I thought it might make up to Brandon just a little for his giving Molly up to us for a few days (especially if she makes him a Dutch Baby to pour it on).

My mood lifted immediately upon arriving at Idlewild, and even though I had that nagging little elf sitting on my shoulder telling me that something was not quite right, I must admit, I had a wonderful time.

Molly was pretty, and eloquent, and generous. Better than I even imagined she would be. (And that's saying a lot.)




She had a bright smile on her face, and as she talked, her hands darted here and there like the red wing blackbirds outside my kitchen window.



Then she turned to Page 161



and read Summer of Change and answered questions before we all queued up





for her to sign our own copies of A Homemade Life. Stories and Recipes from my Kitchen Table by Molly Wizenberg.



Walking out into the dark night, I looked up at Molly and realized that at the same time New York had lost one radiant being, it welcomed another with open arms.

Cream-Braised Green Cabbage, Page 186