Last night, Mrs. Kravitz and Mrs. Cleavage were baking and bitching in preparation for the building’s first BBQ of the season. Mrs. Kravitz was rolling dough for her pies. A pecan blend and bright red and pink cherry halves in a sugary mix waited in white bowls.

The scene was was like something out of a quaint Southern kitchen. Two southern girls (one from North Carolina, the other from Texas) transplanted to a tiny Brooklyn kitchen channeling their southern childhoods spent in kitchens baking pies.

Or so I imagine.

Mrs. Cleavage’s also prepared a delicious looking pasta salad with snap peas; she wasn’t happy when people wanted previews.

"I’m going to have to make another one tomorrow if people don’t stop taking bites," she threatened.

The conversation moved seamlessly from one juicy topic to another (husbands, ex-husbands, children, parents, neighbors, friends provided friendly fodder). But mostly it was food talk—a running commentary on what was being prepared.

In the dining room Mr. Kravitz and a friend were trying to figure out how to make a proper mojito. After much trial and error—and probably too much to drink—he settled on a recipe he deemed perfect. He plans to make a pitcher for Memorial Day.

Mrs. Kravitz sliced up one of the pecan pies. It didn’t look like any pecan pie I’ve ever seen.

"it needs more sugar," Mrs. Cleavage said.

"Too many eggs. It’s too eggy," Mrs. Kravitz said tasting the pie.

"It needs more sugar," Mrs. Cleavage said again.

"So eggy. It’s like a pecan quiche," Mrs. Kravitz said chewing slowly.

"It needs more sugar," Mrs. Cleavage said one more time.

"I forgot the sugar. I forgot to put sugar in," Mrs. Kravitz gushed.

"What do you think I’ve been telling you," Mrs. Cleavage told her seriously.

Don’t worry. Mrs. Kravitz’s Memorial Day pecan pie will have plenty of sugar. Lesson learned. Bitching, baking and drinking Mojitos…