YUM!!!

I love this recipe!  Love, love, love it!!!  My sister make the best fruit pizza!!  Even though I make this recipe, it's always better when she makes it.  I think that's true of all recipes.  I used to love to cook.  Used to.  Everyone told me I was a great cook, but I thought my food was so so.  I reckon we love the cooking of others simply because we don't cook it ourselves.  My mother was a fabulous cook.  She no longer cooks because she has horrible arthritis and has trouble getting around, but back in her day, she was the best.  People would "drop by" our house at supper time just to eat her food.  Of course, they were eating my food, too, but somehow there was always enough  food at our house.  She grew up with 4 best friends and they all double dog swore they would live near one another when they grew up.  And they did.  Mom and one of those sworn friends were ALWAYS cooking and baking.  One would bake a cake and call the other and say, "I just baked a ______ cake.  Would you run over and try it for me?"  There was always someone in our house eating something.  Food was central to any entertainment that went on in our house.  Mom was in a bridge group that met once a week.  When she entertained at our house, the cooking would commence about 3 days before the appointed bridge day.  She would whip up some reeeeeely good dishes. She always laid out a spread worthy of her girlfriends.  And we would reap the benefits of the leftovers.  She always made enough for the family.  When they had parties, there was an abundance of food.  My parents were also in a group of friends who played cards just about every weekend night, so we rotated with them from house to house on the weekends and the food was out of this world!!  Actually, this group of friends was the same girlfriends, but included huzbins.  I guess huzbins are crucial to a good poker game.  In case the wimmenfolk start fist fighting.  There was never anything that exciting happening at these games.  The interesting thing about my mother's cooking is that when she married, she couldn't cook a lick.  My dad's mother and his sister taught her to cook.  They, too, were fantastic cooks.  Another memory - my sister and I would plead with Mom to buy us store bought treats.  Mom baked for us cookies, pies, cakes and the best sweet rolls, but we wanted Oreos.  Proves how stupid kids can be.  Somewhere along the way, my sister also turned out to be a fabulous cook.  Odd, because we weren't allowed in the kitchen, except to wash and dry the dishes.  Mom's OCD.....  Enjoy my sister's recipe and do it soon - summer fruits are on the wane...