Dear Unfriended Facebook Friend,
It isn’t you.
Please believe me when I tell you that. I thought long and hard before hitting the “unfriend” button, and the fault is entirely my own.
You see, I had forgotten what I tell my mother during our weekly telephone calls: Facebook isn’t for meaningful relationships. It’s a fast-and-dirty, whatcha-doin’ snapshot of life’s moments. An easy way to keep up on long-distance friends, old high school buddies and former colleagues. A fast way of filling folks in on important (and not so) happenings in your own life.
I pride myself (when talking with my mother) on my Facebook savvy. But I forgot when I found you lurking in my “People You May Know” feed that Facebook can’t rekindle a relationship by itself.
It can help. Social media has let me reconnect with a number of beautiful women I’d lost through the years. Friend requests have led to telephone calls and hours of catching up with some of the smartest, funniest, kindest ladies that time and I let slip through our fingers. Facebook helped me get these women back.
It didn’t with you.
I forgot you never liked looking back. (At least, not with me.) Our initial friendship burned hot but fizzled once I moved. We rekindled for awhile when fate put us in the same city again, but another move meant another silence.
I really thought Facebook might change that. You chat with mutual acquaintances; tag folks in TBT photos; post daily Bible verses, pictures and family updates. But other than the initial, “Hi! You look great!” …
And — brutal honesty, here — that hurt my feelings. I remember how disappointed I was to lose you after our first parting. How I used to wonder, “Did I do something wrong? Do you not approve of my choices? Am I not good enough?”
Silly and self-indulgent. And too much adolescent angst for a woman my age.
So I freed myself. I pushed “unfriend.”
It isn’t you.
It’s for me.
So Sorry Pie
Unfriending anyone is a tough decision. To lighten the mood, try this pie: With its load of fruit, crusty top and buttery crust, it’s my go-to dessert for friendly cheer. The recipe (courtesy of a very old Bon Appetit issue) calls for apples, but I’ve made it to great effect with fresh peaches.
For the crust:
- 1 1/3 cups all-purpose flour
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/2 teaspoon sugar
- 4 tablespoons cold, unsalted butter, cut into dice
- 4 tablespoons shortening, cut into dice
- 3 tablespoons ice water
- 1/2 teaspoon apple cider vinegar
For the filling:
- 3 1/2 pounds apples (use a variety of types or use peaches)
- 2/3 cup sugar
- 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
- 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
- 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
For the topping:
- 1 cup all-purpose flour
- 1/2 cup sugar
- 1/4 cup brown sugar, packed
- 1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 6 tablespoons cold butter, cut into dice
Preheat your oven to 400 degrees.
Make the crust by whisking the flour, salt and sugar together. Using a pastry blender or your hands, mix in the butter and shortening until you have a coarse meal.
Mix the water and vinegar together and sprinkle it over the flour/butter mixture. Toss gently with your hands until the dough comes together, adding a bit more water as needed.
Gather the dough into a ball, flatten it into a disk and refrigerate it while you make the filling and topping (about 30 minutes).
For the filling, mix all the ingredients together in a large bowl.
For the topping, whisk together the flour, sugars, cinnamon and salt. Add the butter and cut it into the dry ingredients with your fingers, until the mixture is the consistency of wet sand.
To assemble the pie:
Roll the dough out into a 12-inch round. Place it in a 9-inch pie plate and crimp the edges.
Sprinkle a bit of flour and sugar on the bottom of the crust to keep it from getting soggy, then spoon the apple mixture into the pie shell. (Leave any excess liquid in the bowl.) Mound the topping on top of the apples, pressing firmly so everything is covered.
Place your pie plate on a rimmed baking sheet. Bake for 40 minutes, then reduce your oven temperature to 350 degrees. Continue baking 45 minutes longer, or until the top is brown and the juices bubble thickly. (Cover the pie loosely with foil if it browns too quickly.)
Let the pie rest for an hour before diving in.