On the first Monday of the month, I perched amidst fishermen and “Deadliest Catch” fans on a chair in the Leif Erikson Lodge for Sig and Edgar Hansen’s free-wheeling talk. The following Monday night, I crawled in the side door of the Ballard Library’s meeting room and found floor space in a room overfilled with mostly women.

The common theme was adoration, in this case for the rescheduled appearance of Molly Wizenberg, author of “A Homemade Life: Stories and Recipes from My Kitchen Table.”

The May 10 event was cosponsored by Secret Garden Bookshop and marks the conclusion of Wizenberg’s book tour for the paperback release.

Sig Hansen’s work life is available on cable. Likewise, through her very popular blog, "Orangette," "Spilled Milk" podcasts and "Bon Appetit" column, Molly Wizenberg’s life would appear to be an open book.

Yet for all the access afforded by cable television, the Internet, social media sites and hardcopy and paperback books, people still want to meet someone in person. They want to be in the presence of the writer, hear the unfamiliar voice speak familiar words. Holding books to be signed, each person has paid for the privilege of a minute with someone they admire because of how they have crafted their life, their words and their French toast.

In this day and age, there is little that I could share with you about Molly Wizenberg that she hasn’t shared first. (Okay, she’s very petite, looks like she’s a teenager and has a particularly perky, reddish ponytail).

First on the Internet, then hardback book and now paperback, millions of readers all over the world have delighted in Wizenberg’s writing about connections created through food, starting with her late father’s potato salad and through the mediocre waffles she claims to have served her mother on Mothers Day.

Likewise, her courtship with husband Brandon, their journey to the opening of his restaurant Delancey on Northwest 70th Street and her book tours have all been revealed through photographs and weaving of day-to-day life, memories and recipes. What Molly’s appearance at the Ballard Library revealed was more about her readers, although in person she was as gracious and accessible as her writing suggests.

Unlike a menu filled with obscure references and ingredients, Molly’s writing is accessible. She’s not a restaurant critic or a food snob. She’s seemingly the friend who has the recipe for that yogurt cake that happens to be warm from the oven when you drop in.

She’s probably the daughter that many women wish they had and the blogger who speaks to people who aren’t ashamed to miss their father’s meatloaf as palpably as they miss their childhood dog.

Although raised in Oklahoma, Ballard gets to claim Wizenberg now, or vice versa. To the full house that included her husband in the back row and podcast partner Matthew Amster-Burton near the front, Wizenberg spoke about her somewhat circuitous path to food writing, by way of a Ph.D. program in Cultural Anthropology and unpaid experience at Greens in San Francisco.

She read from the first chapter of her book, took questions and then sat to sign books. Although everyone seemed delighted by every word, this was the moment for many attendees already holding copies of her book: their audience with Molly.

Wizenberg seems very approachable to her readers online, responding to comments, seemingly sharing her table with strangers, who in turn feel like they are friends – but, these readers and listeners also want to connect in person. They need to tell her they made her whole wheat apricot scones, and they were delicious.

Without so much as a cookie at her side, Wizenberg interacted with each person in the line, suggesting a certain cupcake recipe if “the icing is not your thing,” thanking each person for attending the event, recognizing a woman who had been to the restaurant.

“It’s more about people than food,” Wizenberg had said about her path to doing what she loves.

Her writing has helped people to recognize their own connections to one another through food, the memory of sharing raisin bread with a beloved grandmother, an afternoon bicycling with a friend for ice cream, shared experiences.

Wizenberg’s writing has in turn created an online community, but the turnout for her reading proved once again that people are also hungry for face-to-face connection.

“Thank you for sharing that,” she said several times as people mentioned recipes such as her basil-shallot vinaigrette or their own food blog.

No, Molly. Thank you for choosing to live in Ballard and end your book tour here.