When Her Home Was Destroyed in the L.A. Fires, Molly Baz Found Solace in Soup

Vogue

a day ago

I didn't eat or think much about food during what would become the greatest tragedy of my life to date. Who could? Your whole life changes overnight and the 'what's for dinner' thought exercise doesn't really resonate like it once did.
But then there was the soup.
I'd spent the whole day lying—hiding, really—under the covers, after learning that my house had been one of many taken by the L.A. wildfires. We had escaped to a friend's house across town the night before, and one by one our village arrived to be with us. Nora Singley, my dear friend, and collaborator in work and all things cooking and eating, was one of the first to arrive. She came lugging tote bags filled with food. Food is her love language, and man, can that girl cook.
A few hours under the covers passed, and suddenly the deep earthy smell of rosemary started to waft up. Next came a wave of tomato–not fresh garden tomato, but a deeply caramelized and complex aroma, a tube of double concentrated tomato paste frying in olive oil. I knew she was up to something good.
I pulled myself out of bed and headed down to the kitchen, where I sat watching her cook from the kitchen table. Then came the tears. My house had burned down! But god, it smelled so good. I didn't want to eat. If the soup tasted as good as it smelled, I might feel joy in a moment of total darkness? I had no idea what that would feel like, but I knew I didn't want to feel it. I wasn't ready to hold both of those things at once, because doing so meant I was beginning the process of moving on.
Nora dished up piping hot bowls of soup to a handful of sorrowful, hungry bellies. As she fed us, I sat with my head hanging low over mine. I couldn't do it. On any other day, I'd have been the first one to dive in. On any other day, I would have been at the stove, cooking alongside her, singing the praises of the soup while serving it up to my friends with unbridled enthusiasm. But this wasn't a normal day. This was January 7. A date that will remain burned into my mind forever.