I couldn't believe it when I found this in the charity shop yesterday and pounced on it in glee.
And then I opened it and felt sad.
It is inscribed in curly black writing, To my sweet EJ. Love always, D.
(Or maybe that's M. No, I think it's D.)
Who was sweet EJ ... Elizabeth Jane? Emily Jessamine? Was it love always from her D for Dad or from Damian, Daniel or David? If he loves her always, how come his lovely gift ended up unappreciated in the charity shop (it was only published about two years ago)? And there's no splodges and stains to show that she ever made Molly's mother's blueberry-raspberry pound cake or the French lemon yogurt cake that brought about a blog romance and then a wedding. (If you're not familiar with Molly's blog Orangette, she met her curly-haired husband - who was one of her readers - when he e-mailed her after discovering her yogurt cake recipe, and their long-distance romance blossomed from there. I have to remind myself that this is extremely unlikely to happen twice.)
Anyway, I've been engrossed in Molly's family reminiscences and recipes all morning until they made me so hungry that I had to make pancakes for lunch.
Don't you think that her book has found a much better home with me? EJ is probably a thin person who watches cookery programmes on television and doesn't know how to make pastry.
I'll let you know how that lemon yogurt cake turns out.