The epitome of longing, no matter howsmall the slice

I amtwo things atmy family’s Thanksgiving party — the designated baker and the designated dessert server, which means I’m responsible for making each piece of pie smaller and smaller so there’s enough to go around. And when it’s cheesecake I’m slicing, the crowd multiplies and I instantly start regretting not making two.

Whenever someone asks me for the recipe, I always preface it with “Oh, it’smy mom’s recipe,” before texting it over or clumsily listing off ingredients. I made one tweak, however, by adding a few tablespoons of sour cream and a tiny scoop of flour. The flour makes it firmer, but it’s still light, silky, fluffy and creamy in theway only a perfect cheesecake can be.

If I’m being honest, it’s the one dessert I knowI’ll never mess up, which is why itwas also the first dessert I made formy inlaws aftermoving toMassachusetts. Itwas such a success that I naturally started showing off and made cheesecake for every potluck and dinner party— Thanksgiving included— my mother-in-lawhosted.

Over the years, my mom’s little recipe has garnered much deserved fame. But nowthat I’ve moved back home to Illinois, the list of people who’ll miss those thin slices of cheesecake only gets longer. It’s such a small thing, yet moments like that really emphasize the notion that it’s not how much of something but rather who you’re sharing it with. And surely that applies to more than just pie.

This year, I’m making cheesecake for justmy immediate crew (including a 2-year-old nephew with a major sweet tooth) and I hope you’ll make it for yours.

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