Hot Pineapple Side Dish

Independence Day approaches, and James is home from Columbia for the long weekend, bringing with him the particular energy of a young man who has spent four weeks in a law firm and has opinions about it. "It's interesting," he says carefully, the way a lawyer-in-training says interesting when he means "I have discovered something complicated about the world of adults." I do not press. James will share when he is ready. The readiness is his to determine.

The fireworks this year were watched from the piazza again — our tradition now, the distance-fireworks, the ones that boom over the rooftops and color the sky without assaulting the ears. Mama was asleep by nine. Joy was not here — she is still at Pathways, still painting, still happy in the way that does not require fireworks or holidays or any of the structures that the rest of us build to organize our happiness. Robert and James and Carrie and I sat on the piazza with sweet tea and watched the sky bloom and burst, and the blooming and bursting was beautiful in the way that things you see from a distance are beautiful — contained, unthreatening, someone else's responsibility to clean up.

I have been writing in the "Parsonage Kitchen" journal every morning — fifteen minutes before the household wakes, when the kitchen is mine and the light through the window is gray and the coffee is strong and the words come with the reluctant willingness of something that has been waiting to be said. The words are not the cookbook yet. They are the approach to the cookbook — the path through the underbrush that leads to the clearing where the book will be built. I am clearing the path. The clearing will take years. But the path is mine and the clearing will be mine and the book, when it comes, will be mine too.

Mama had a moment on Saturday that I want to record here because it was perfect and because perfection, in the context of this disease, is both rare and fleeting. She was sitting in the kitchen while I made ambrosia for the holiday, and she said, "Naomi, do you remember when you were little and you helped me make ambrosia for the church picnic?" And I said, "I remember, Mama." And she said, "You ate all the marshmallows." And I said, "I did." And she laughed. And the laugh was Carolyn Simmons's laugh — full, warm, the laugh of a woman who remembers her daughter as a child eating marshmallows in a parsonage kitchen. The laugh lasted five seconds. It was the best five seconds of my week.

I made the ambrosia — Mama's recipe, the one with the coconut and the mandarin oranges and the marshmallows I no longer eat (but still buy, because the recipe demands them). The ambrosia was sweet and absurd and perfect for a holiday that celebrates independence, which is the thing I am trying to give Joy and the thing I am trying to keep for Mama and the thing I am slowly discovering for myself.

The ambrosia I made for the Fourth came out of a deep instinct for sweetness—the kind that isn’t really about sugar at all, but about holding something familiar close when everything else feels uncertain. This Hot Pineapple Side Dish carries that same spirit: warm, a little unexpected, the sort of thing that makes people ask for the recipe and then look slightly surprised when they hear how simple it is. Mama would approve. She always said the best holiday food is the kind that doesn’t try too hard.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 30 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

2 cans (20 oz each) crushed pineapple, drained (reserve 1/4 cup juice)
1/2 cup granulated sugar
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted
1 sleeve (about 40) buttery round crackers (such as Ritz), crushed
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon (optional)

Instructions

Preheat. Heat your oven to 350°F. Lightly butter a 9x13-inch baking dish and set aside.
Mix the filling. In a large bowl, stir together the drained pineapple, reserved pineapple juice, sugar, and flour until well combined. Fold in the shredded cheddar cheese.
Transfer. Spread the pineapple mixture evenly into the prepared baking dish.
Make the topping. In a separate bowl, combine the crushed crackers with the melted butter and stir until the crumbs are evenly coated. Sprinkle cinnamon into the crumb mixture if using.
Top and bake. Spread the buttered cracker topping evenly over the pineapple filling. Bake uncovered for 25—30 minutes, until the topping is golden and the edges are bubbling.
Rest and serve. Let the dish rest for 5 minutes before serving. It is best warm, straight from the oven, alongside ham, roasted chicken, or any holiday spread that welcomes a little sweetness at the table.

Nutrition (per serving)

Hot Pineapple Side Dish — The Sweet, Absurd Thing That Made Mama Laugh