What was I waiting for?

How come I've never read any of of Ruth Reichl's books before? How come, after all the years of hearing her name spoken in respectful worship, while knowing who she was, never actually picked up one of her books?

By chance, I bought Comfort Me with Apples on Friday night. I couldn't put it down all weekend (well, I could, but only to eat). I just finished it. It's the first book I've read in eons that I simply didn't want to end. When I came to the last page, I then savored the acknowledgements, flipped to the title page, read the back cover, and even went through the reader's guide questions (who ever does that?!)

A little late to the game perhaps, but I now get it. I join the ranks of respectful worshipers. I'm also in love with Ruth Reichl. Just read this:

The hot-pink soup was dotted with lacy green leaves of cilantro, like little bursts of breeze behind the heat. Small puffs of fried tofu, as insubstantial as clouds, floated in the liquid. I took another spoonful of soup and tasted citrus, as if lemons had once gone gliding through and left their ghosts behind.

Holy cow, that woman can write. Tender at the Bone, you're next.