3 Food-imonies

I think about these stories often (and they are probably warped and folkloricly large from years of steeping in my mind not being told): An Apple Pie Story, A Brownie Story, and...there's a third...

First, The Apple Pie Story

Picture a thirty-ish year old mother of three, of supple strength and brown shoulder-length hair, and anxious over list-loads of plans, tasks, and ornate self-imposed expectations always. Three children. It is snowing outside hard.
It originated in her mind to make a pie. Two even. This is strange.
That second pie should go to ____, who we don't know so well, who lives behind our house. But, these wintry Salt Lake City blocks are big.
She bundles up her three not-so-bundly children, baby remains in one hand, pie in the other, and then she - in lieu of trekking with handcart and crew around the block, hoists herself, baby, and pie over tall white fence and lands at the back door of said neighbor-stranger woman pie recipient.
Answering the back door, ____ gives a strange face to thirty-ish year old mother with baby and pie at back door, but quickly gets over it in Mormon neighborly fashion. Mom-supple-strength says "I felt like I should bring you a pie." The pie is hot and _____ woman takes it quietly grateful and calmly quiet.
3 days.
"Julie, did you know that I had a miscarriage the morning that you brought that pie over?"
"No-"
"I had prayed for comfort from the Lord."

2nd story:

AND ONCE, my mom felt impressed to bring brownies to a sister in the branch. Not there, mom put the circle paper plate of brownies into the square mailbox. Sister X was in diabetic shock in the upstairs hallway inside above, groping down the stairs bannister holding, she felt God say "Go to the mailbox!" And stumbling reaching into the mailbox felt squishy soft brownieness to which she sucked inhaled sugary body freedom.

What is that third story? I think it has to do with pineapple. Pretty sure am I.