Refocused: With the library to thank

I think our local public library rules.

Sure, I've had my issues when I tried to volunteer there this summer, but all that nonsense aside, well, it rocks. It's like there's a personal book buyer somewhere in that great huge building who knows me personally. Like we've talked before and they know what I want before I want it. (Or in this case, remembers that I pinned a book that I wanted to pinterest and then forgot about it. But the library book buyer remembered and put it in my path during my visit on Tuesday.)

Have you read "A Homemade Life" by Molly Wizenberg? You ought to. I picked it up by chance--I was peeling my two year old from the tallest shelf in the "new nonfiction" area and it's cover, resplendent in its green background with a little neat row of coffee cups suspended midair, caught my eye. I brought it home, happened to log in to my Pinterest account and saw I'd pinned it this summer. Coincidence? Methinks not!

So I've been reading it. And reading it.  And they way she writes, I realized once I got over my insane jealousy that she's my age and this freaking brilliant and successful, is flawless. Her book is a collection of essays that end with a recipe that is relevant to her story. Her recipes are beautiful, but her words drive the book. They make you care about her chocolate cake that "wins hearts and minds" or the fragrant soup friends of the family brought over when her father was dying (a particularly poignant and heartbreaking few pages).

It reminded me of what I love about food blogs. It's not necessarily the recipes, it's the stories behind them--the whys and the hows that make me care about a peanut butter fudge frosting or a cabbage-based soup.

I'm not a great cook. I'm not the best baker--but there's some reason behind everything that comes out of my kitchen and on to my table and that's what people seem to be most interested in. They can crack open any old cookbook in their possession for the peanut butter fudge details--what they want are the nuances and the life that surrounded your peanut butter fudge.

Beautiful, right?

It's the whole reason, despite my hiatuses and stalls, that I've never given up on this blog the entire year I've been slaving away at it. (Did you know September marks the one year anniversary of The Hungry Little Blackbird? 'Tis true! Happy anniversary to us!)

In the past 48 hours, I've immersed myself in Wizenberg's life and sat at her kitchen table. I stood in the back when her father passed, and I sat in a row at her wedding. I tasted what she offered and I loved it. And it helped me get back on track with what I set out to do here at the Hungry Little Blackbird last year.

Happy eating!