Years ago, Ruth Reichl wrote about Nepenthe for New West (later California) magazine, a west-coast glossy. She gave us a generous review, praising Lolly’s Roast Chicken with Sage Stuffing, the moody quality of the dining room, and reveled in the simple food, the wine, the views and feeling of place–all still true, in my mind. I reminded her of this when we met, especially as my agent, Carole Bidnick, and Joan Zoloth went on about Nepenthe’s recent 60th celebration, what a smash hit it was, and that I was coming out with a book about the restaurant. Nothing like a shameless plug to a major player in the food lit scene. “And you are?” she asks–my cue to properly introduce myself, which I finally did. “And so, I imagine it’s about your life growing up there?” She was feeding me lines, and I was stumbling through my answers, in my own funny way trying to steer the conversation away from me and back to her. Why?

I realize I’m not so good at this kind of thing, and besides I was there for her reading, not mine. None-the-less, she was gracious, and all ears; such a professional and yet clearly benevolent. After listening intently, she proceeded to tell us what she remembered most about that particular trip. It was not Nepenthe after all (though she recalled it fondly), but her first husband informing her on the drive home, after what she described as a perfect weekend camping under the stars and eating out, that he wanted a divorce. She said it as if it was yesterday, almost misty eyed, and still seemed stunned, as we certainly were. “What?” we all cried in unison, “How could he?” And then Joan, much better at all this than me, piped up, “You have to go again!” She went on to list all the reasons why Ruth must give it one more chance (Joan has wonderful stories of her own about coming to Nepenthe as a young girl, including visits with my grandmother in the log cabin with her parents). “Oh, do come, come to Big Sur again, and sit on the deck at Nepenthe, forget your cares, and enjoy all that it has to offer, ” I managed to say.

And isn’t that what it is all about? As I sit here at my table writing, looking out through sheer, red curtains to a swathe of blue sky, I’m thinking–yes. It is what Nepenthe is about; it’s also for me what writing is about too, finding that center place and losing myself to the work. Sitting at the edge of the beautiful, and capturing the dream; meeting writers like Ruth who are more warm and engaging than you hoped for; about weaving the stories, the memories, the shape of things, onto the page. Ruth gave a fabulous reading; her every word hung in the air as the crowd listened raptly to the weight of her words, at once melancholic and hopeful. Her mother was right. It’s never too late.