The Best Pineapple Cake in the World

--For Laura Ivan

 

     Laura was my neighbor before she was my friend.  She’d send me the occasional cow or packet of gold coins and sometimes invite me to her farm to see how her lettuces were doing.  We might have harvested each other’s crops occasionally if one of us had a lunch date or hair appointment when they ripened.  It’s hard to remember life in Farmville ten years ago.

    When I joined Facebook at the urging of a cousin who later unfriended me for my “radical” political views, I didn’t see much purpose in it.  The games were fun until the day I heard myself tell Donald I’d be down to help him weed our living, growing garden as soon as I harvested my digital tomatoes.  That was a wake-up call.  I let my farm go to ruin, even at the risk of losing “friends” I’d made playing the game.

    In the meantime--as I lived two very distinct lives in AZ and BC--Facebook helped me bridge the distance between wherever I was at the moment and whomever I was missing at the time.  It’s how I knew my grown daughters had a nutritious breakfast, watched people’s babies and kittens grow up, picked up advice on how to cook an exotic vegetable that turned up in my Bountiful Basket, and connected with local activists in time to paint signs before the next march or vigil.

     Most of my Farmville neighbors moved on to those who were still playing, but Laura and her sister Ruth stayed.  Well, Ruth vanished pretty quickly because I was too edgy, but Laura stayed . . . for the same reason.  We resonated in so many ways—our leftward leanings, our love for decadent retro recipes, our enjoyment of each other’s holiday décor.  So many laughter emojis between us I couldn’t begin to count them.  Sometimes one of her daughters would post that Laura was undergoing urgent heart surgery and would be away for a while.  I wrapped that family in all the digital love I had, and it felt real.

     Two days ago Laura posted a retro recipe for pineapple upside down cake, and that got me thinking.  I hadn’t made a pineapple upside down cake since I gave up gluten last year.  Baking gluten-free is more like a chemistry experiment than a culinary coup.  But I live by these small rituals of sharing with friends, so I did a little research, a little mixing, and voila! The best pineapple cake I’ve ever baked!  The edges are crispy-chewy with caramelized brown sugar, the cake is delicate, and it practically drips with butter.  (The secret is almond flour.)  

    Last night between dinner and dessert, I got a text from someone I didn’t recognize at first.  It was Laura’s sister, Ruth: “Hi Linda, i just wanted to let you know that my sister Laura passed away today during emergency surgery. She's had a tough life with all the problems that she was born with but was one tuff little lady. She's now pain free n for that im grateful.”

     I took a few deep breaths and wrote back a few lines of heartfelt sympathy, wondering if I should tell Ruth about the cake Laura had inspired.  It was so trivial in the face of her loss, but I wanted to convey how much I had enjoyed Laura’s friendship for the ten years I knew her.  How true to character for Laura to leave something sweet for others to savor.  So I told her.  And she replied, “Thats my favorite cake.”

     In early days of social media, I was a skeptic.  How could people we would never meet qualify as friends in any meaningful way?  What could we share of any lasting value?  It seemed the palest imitation of life, a shortcut to a false sense of intimacy.  But over the years I’ve learned better.  I have new sisters closer to me than the ones I was born with.  We are in each other’s lives daily.  Behind the scenes, we share things far too tender to broadcast on Facebook.  We might as well be sitting at each other’s kitchen tables.

     I have friends who read, friends who quilt, friends who think, friends who travel, friends who sing, friends whose writing and art take me everywhere in time and space.  Friends whose stories I can make a safe space for--a different kind of living, growing garden.  Friends I can share another blurry photo with and say, “Look, I saw this for you today.” 

     The 2:00 AM friend who asks, “What’s wrong?  Do you feel defeated?” and waits for an answer.  

  We need them like air right now.  They give us something sweet to counteract the bitter, to steady the shaky foundations of places we once thought rock-solid. I am going to miss Laura for a long time because parting is a sweet and lingering sorrow.  For the sake of her memory, though, this will always be the best pineapple cake in the world.