I have long followed the writings (and recipes) of Molly Wizenberg, on her site Orangette. Her recipes are deceptively simple, with incredible tastes - and they are always a success. Molly also writes a not-to-be-missed monthly column for Bon Appetit. I have to be honest, I've never read something by her that I haven't subsequently tried. This can be difficult when scrolling through her website - but then again, meals don't always HAVE to match.

When I learned that Molly had a new book out, I was elated. When A Homemade Life: Stories and Recipes from my Kitchen Table arrived, I dropped everything and sat down to read. From the beginning, she draws you in.  Her writing style is like sitting down and talking with a friend - a friend who doesn't hide the soulful parts of her life, either.  She talks about life and food, peppers the tale with tiny details that make the story (her dad loving Dixieland jazz; her mother's intrepidness in France) and then shares excellent recipes that will remind you of those small details - a loving, full life. We're lucky to get a glimpse. From stories of growing up in Oklahoma City to love (and heartbreak, and pain au chocolat) in Paris, Molly brings her readers into her life and makes us smile. From recipes and memories from childhood to life with a new boyfriend (and now husband, Brandon), this memoir serves as more than a memoir, more than a cookbook - it is a personal sharing, a communal table, that is rare in the world today.

"When I walk into my kitchen today, I am not alone. Whether we know it or not, none of us is. We bring fathers and mothers and kitchen tables, and every meal we have ever eaten...

Like most people who love to cook, I like the tangible things. I like the way the knife claps when it meets the cutting board. I like the haze of sweet air that hovers over a hot cake as it sits, cooling, on the counter. I like the way a strip of orange peel looks on an empty plate. But what I like even more are the intangible things: the familiar voices that fall out of the folds of an old cookbook, or the scenes taht replay like a film reel across my kitchen wall. When we fall in love with a certain dish, I think that's what we're often responding to: that something else behind the fork or the spoon, the familiar story that food tells."

And so. With each recipe I've made, I've taken Molly's stories, extraordinary writing, and recipe and turned it into a gift from Molly to our family - the French-style yogurt lemon cake that I baked with our 6-year old daughter to celebrate a life achievement; her father's potato salad that graced an early spring picnic on an extremely warm day - we were so happy to be outside without our coats on!; the chocolate ginger banana bread made to soothe after a long day; the Scottish scones with lemon and ginger that were the highlight of a Princess Tea Party (2 six-year old suitably dressed girls, along with a 40-year old mom and a 72-year old neighbor friend with her Scottish terrier), lakeside. See what I mean? Her stories and food inspire more stories and food - your own stories, the recipes making their way into your life.

We were lucky enough to sit down and talk with Molly about her new book, her new restaurant Delancey, Orangette, and more. Here's what she had to say...

WE: Please tell us about your book, A Homemade Life...

MW: I always have a much harder time with this question than I should!  I'm terrible at describing it.  I guess I could start, though, by saying that it's a memoir told through the lens of food, with 50 recipes.  It's about growing up in a family of avid cooks, losing my father to cancer when I was in my early twenties, and the journey of sorts that came afterward, leading me to a career in food and to the man who is now my husband.

WE:Your life of travel and food has always had a special focus on Paris. Are first impressions of travels abroad (places, meals, markets) often lasting ones?

MW: Definitely.  I think we always remember firsts, whether we're talking about travel, or food, or anything, really.  Paris was the first place that I ever visited outside of the US or Canada, so it made a huge impression.  I was ten years old, and I was completely wowed by every little detail, right down to the sugar packets that came with my parents' coffee.  (I thought it was impossibly cool that they said "sucre" instead of "sugar."  I brought them home as souvenirs.)  Paris couldn't have been more different from Oklahoma City, where I grew up, and I was fascinated by it.  My parents also loved Paris and knew it well - my father, especially - so they gave me a wonderful introduction to it.  It was inevitable that I would love it too.

WE: Food is often the window to another culture. When reading of your bouchon enlightenment, I laughed. Can we recreate that, once home? Or does the wonderful food we eat on our travels mostly stay there?

MW: That's a really good question.  I have certainly made the bouchons at home many times now, and I still love them, but the whole experience that they came out of - the feeling of being in my host family's house, the conversations around the dinner table there, the (scandalous!) night when I had my boyfriend over - well, that part stayed in France.  (And that's probably a good thing.)  Most of the time, I don't think it be recreated.  Our experience of food is so much bigger than just the food itself: it's about where we were when we ate it, who we were with, how we felt, all kinds of things.  We can make the food again later, at home, and it may be delicious, but it's missing its context, and it's not quite the same.

WE: Please tell us about your restaurant in the works, Delancey...

MW: Sure!  I'm opening a restaurant in Seattle with my husband, Brandon Pettit.  Actually, I should clarify that: it's his restaurant, really.  I'm just helping.  Brandon grew up in New Jersey, not far from Manhattan, and he has been crazy for pizza since he was a kid.  Seattle has a lot of Neapolitan-style pizza, but there are very few places that serve New York-inspired pies, and he misses them terribly.  So, basically, he's opening Delancey so that he can make the pizza he wants to eat!  Ours will be baked in a wood-fired oven, and in addition, we'll also be doing unusual salads, salumi, and housemade seasonal pickles, as well as rustic desserts, like roasted fruit and ice creams.  The restaurant will be at 1415 NW 70th Street, in the Ballard neighborhood (Seattle), and we're aiming to open in June or July.

WE: Your blog, Orangette.blogspot.com, is beloved by foodies, as is your column at Bon Appetit.  Is it challenging to come up with something regularly, as your readers (and deadlines) expect, all the while living life, creating a restaurant, and eating lots of salads (and doritos?)?

MW: It's a huge challenge right now, when we're so busy with the restaurant.  A lot of nights, we eat cheap carryout, or we make noodles with butter and Parmesan, or scrambled eggs.  And when I do cook more elaborate things, I find myself wanting to rely on old standbys, because they're comfortable and easy.  I'm pretty boring in the kitchen these days.  But I'm hoping to change that soon.  I miss my cookbooks and my stand mixer.

WE: The heart of a place is its food - and people. Your food memories with your family are so joyous that you bring others along with and now the love it, too (I am eating your French-style yogurt cake with lemon right now). Why do you think food memories - and stories, and recipes  -  are so important to us?

MW: Sharing food is one of the most intimate ways that we can be with one another.  Food is a universal - we all have to eat it - and when we share it, we're on common ground, even if it's only for a few minutes.  We're talking and chewing, taking part in the same experience.  That's a pretty profound connection - or it can be, if we let it.  That all sounds sort of cheesy, I guess, but it's true.

WE: Thanks so very much, Molly. I've bought so many copies of your book to pass along it is crazy. Thank you, for sharing so much of yourself and your life with us.

To check out Molly's writings on Orangette yourself, please see: Orangette.blogspot.com

For her columns at Bon Appetit, please see:
http://www.bonappetit.com/magazine/2009/01/molly_wizenberg