When I was little, my mom was in a quilting club. The women in the club took turns setting up quilts at their houses. Every Tuesday night, they’d stitch and gossip from 7 till 11, then they’d gather at the dining room table for dessert and coffee. I loved those few weeks every year when a huge quilt was set up in our basement. My brothers and I would have board game marathons underneath it when the ladies weren’t there.
But my favorite part of quilting club was dessert time. Although I went to bed at 8, the buzz of the quilters would always wake me at 11 when they brought the party upstairs. And what a party it was! Laughter, stories, teasing—for an 8-year-old girl curled up in her bed, it sounded like the most fun anyone could have. Plus, my mom and her friends really took pride in their desserts—all homemade, usually things they were “known for.” Bananas Foster, flames and all. Cream puffs, eggy and light, like eating a cloud. Fresh blueberry pie.