Jewish Apple Cake In Remembrance Of A Dear Friend

Just recently I had posted a book review for Handwritten Recipes by Michael Popeck for work.  Popek is a used book seller from New York who has rescued recipes found in various books that have found their way into his shop.  In his book, snapshots of these culinary bookmarks are arranged with a photo of each book in which it was found, telling a story of things forgotten between the pages.

At the library, where I work, we are constantly finding all kinds of documents and forgotten scraps deposited between book pages. There are photographs, loving notes signed from Gramma with love or cards from a special aunt.  Medical appointment memos, bills yet to be paid and yes, sometimes we have even found cash.  All the before mentioned are returned to their rightful owners.

Sometimes things get missed at check in and they remain in the item long after a previous user can be found.  These things go to lost and found, other personal information that is unclaimed is always shredded and the orphaned photographs are saved by a staff member with the hopes of someday recognizing the person in the library.  So far, not one of her growing gallery of pix has not been successfully reunited with their kin.

I mentioned in my review, that I was thrilled to discover a recipe for Jewish Apple Cake in the book that was like the one I had gotten from a dear friend while living in Northern Virginia during the latter part of the 1970s.  I had made my friend Chris's recipe many times over the years and always thought of her and old times when I did.  I decided that I would bake the book version of the recipe to share with my library coworkers and was not surprised when it  received rave reviews.  The price for my culinary fiction and cookbook test experiments is always a comment, rating or review from the taste testers. This prompted a remark from a co-worker who mentioned that she had gotten a similar recipe for the Jewish Apple Cake when she lived in Northern Virginia, also coincidentally during the 70s.

I couldn't help wondering what bit of magic was at work here.  Had it really been the six degrees of separation?  I thought surely if Noreen didn't know my friend Chris, she must have at least had some mutual friend that had shared recipes with her.  Maybe it wasn't coincidental that Chris's husband Thom worked for United Airlines and my coworker Noreen had been a flight attendant back in the day.  Could that be the common denominator and their paths had crossed or mutual friends might have existed from that connection?  Or perhaps the recipe had simply been featured in a local newspaper or magazine of the day and the two had independently seen it.

I couldn't help myself.  What else is a library information specialist to do but try and locate my long ago friend and find out where Chris had gotten the recipe from since Noreen couldn't remember exactly where she encountered it?

I first did an internet search for Chris and Thom and New Jersey, where I knew they had moved to sometime in the 80s before I lost track of them.  I found nothing that was concrete.  I then looked for her brother Jimmy but was not sure of the spelling of her Italian maiden name, again no solid lead.  Undaunted, I then looked for her daughter and low and behold, there she was with a relative named Christine.  Yes, she'd be the right age, had a relative named relative Christine and yes, there was name of the town, to which they had moved, that my foggy memory had not remembered.  Bingo... a phone number!  After all my sleuthing, it was too late in the evening to call.

The following day I couldn't wait to get home after work to phone.  As the phone rang, I nervously racked my brain for something to say that would not make me sound like I was some kind of nut job.  As no one answered, I started my best at rambling on to the answering machine about my long ago friend that I hoped to find.  How I had lived in the apartment above them in Reston and other details that I hoped she'd recognize.  She would only have been about 3 when we were transferred and moved away.  Then suddenly someone picked up and said hello.

It was Thom.  I was so thrilled to hear his voice and even more delighted that he had remembered us.  We talked briefly, at first, about old times and he said he "had dreamed of the coconut cake I had made so long ago."

Thom's remark confirmed my feeling of the power of food and family traditions.  Sharing recipes, like Chris had done, linked us still after so many years have passed.  The Coconut Cake recipe was my grandmother's  and I promised to send it to them.  Not long into our conversation I was deeply sad to learn my beautiful friend, who had always been so gracious, hospitable and vivacious- had suffered a brief, seemingly routine illness and passed away unexpectedly.

Deep sadness does not adequately describe how I felt.  I felt like someone had dropped a ton of bricks on me but I was trying to not give myself away over the phone.  I could tell Thom still, after many years, had been freshly wounded by having to put it into words.  I can not be sorry enough for this wonderful family and feel the weight of their loss.

I suppose this will be my way of repaying a debt to Chris and her family.  I need to honor her memory and celebrate the marvelous person I was lucky to have known.  She kept our son Robert the night our daughter Laura was born.  Chris was a marvelous cook and had a flair, like no one else I have known since, for hosting an impromptu afternoon tea.  She had a love of life and family that was brilliantly evident to everyone.  I will forever remember her kindness and friendship!  I credit her for having passed along a sense of style and hospitality I have tried to emulate over the years. Thank you, with much love... dear, dear friend!