Some time within the past couple of years (how’s that for specificity?) I spotted Molly Wizenberg’s book at a trip to the downtown branch of the Denver Public Library. (A truly beautiful place, by the way.) I’d never heard of her and was attracted solely by the adorable cover. (You may remember my post on her second book, Delancey, and our trip there when we visited Seattle this past summer.) Although the descriptions and reviews of this book usually say that it’s written about the death of Molly’s father, there’s a lot more to it than that. I guess it could be classified under the dreaded “coming of age” heading, but the writing is so good and so free from sentimentality, and there’s so much about food and cooking in it, that the teenage and young-adult angst woven throughout is tolerable. Even funny at times.