The best gift I’ve ever gotten came from a friend about two weeks after Hurricane Irene ripped through the Hudson Valley. We’d lost the bridge to our home and were schlepping everything over a small walking bridge my husband had strung for us. The gift was delivered in a small cooler. Nestled inside were six cooked waffles, a pound of perfectly crisp bacon, a pint of local maple syrup. There was a loaf of warm bread from Bread Alone, a jar of chunky peanut butter and some homemade peach jam. A glass container with a large, cooked piece of salmon,…
