My Best Friend’s Cheesecake
Every story has a beginning, and mine starts long before I ever stepped into a kitchen. In the early 1960s, my mom, Sue, and my dad, Norm, moved to San Francisco, where they quickly became inseparable from Kay. Sue and Kay were a force together—stylish hair, cigarettes between their fingers (as was the trend), laughter that could fill a whole neighborhood, and a little saucy sparkle in everything they did. Wherever they went, the good times followed. Their friendship was the kind people talk about for years afterward—warm, bold, joyful, and unforgettable.
Growing up, my mom and I didn’t spend a lot of time cooking side by side. It simply wasn’t something I showed much interest in during those early years in California. But there was one exception: Kay’s cheesecake. It was one of the few recipes my mom passed on to me, and the only one I can still vividly remember from my teenage years. Though I didn’t realize it then, that recipe became a small treasure—a link to my mom’s world, her history, her friendships, and a part of her she wanted me to carry.
Kay passed away when I was ten, over forty years ago now, but her spirit lingers in every memory my mom kept alive—stories of their adventures, their laughter, the way they lit up a room simply by entering it. And somehow, through this cheesecake, I’ve held onto both of them: my mom, who gave me the recipe with love, and Kay, whose legacy lives on in its flavor. Baking it all these years has kept their friendship present—an echo of laughter, a reminder of the women who shaped me, and a way to feel close to my mom long after childhood.
“—that recipe became a small treasure—a link to my mom’s world, her history, her friendships, and a part of her she wanted me to carry.”
So My Best Friend’s Cheesecake is more than a dessert. It’s the story of mothers, daughters, and best friends. It’s a bridge between generations and a tribute to the joy that relationships bring into our lives. By sharing this cheesecake with the world, I’m sharing the sweetness of their friendship, the tenderness of my memories, and the belief that meaningful gifts—like love, legacy, and a really good recipe—are meant to be passed on. With every slice, a little bit of Sue and Kay lives on.
Their song.
Without a doubt, Neil Diamond was the music you would hear if you traveled down our street in California. In honor of Sue and Kay, we’ve added Hello Again to our CakeStory Co. Spotify playlist. Enjoy!