The Things We Do for Love, Part I: Life of Pie

Can we please discuss this Cloud of Confusion more fondly known as "Meringue" for a minute? Ok, I guess it's partially my fault; I made the grievous error of 1. attempting a meringue 2. by hand 3. without waiting for the guidance of Tante Rochel. The word Tante is Yiddish for "Aunt" and while she's not my blood aunt, she may as well be. She certainly has a way of making me feel like a beloved niece. I like to think we all have a Tante Rochel in our lives. THIS Tante Rochel promised to show me how to make lemon meringue pie and especially how to whip up the perfect meringue. I was excited to have a real live teacher. We even made plans for me to bring all the ingredients to her house one night and she'd show me. I should have waited. Now, before you think poorly of me, my efforts didn't amount to a total disaster. I DID end up with meringue and I DID manage to heap it atop a delicious lemony custard BUT not without some minorly catastrophic events of note.

WHY is making meringue so darn difficult? For something so uber simplistic in its makeup it seems to cause a lot of angst. Sugar + Eggs. That is IT. You know something, I take that back. Let's not discuss meringues yet. Let me start from the very beginning. My husband's birthday was coming up. I KNOW how much he loves lemon meringue pie. I've known for quite some time. I know this because the poor soul has only ever wanted a lemon meringue pie for his birthday and for one reason or another I always either forgot or was too busy and the poor soul ended up buying his own lemon meringue pie from a bakery so he could have his pie and eat it too. This year was different. This year I remembered AT THE RIGHT TIME. I didn't even bother surprising him. I figured if I committed enough to tell him, I'd actually end up doing it. This Pie was a real undertaking, and took 2 days to make. I know. Ridiculous. But I had a good reason for that: I have an almost four month old who was just three months old at the time and his behavior was so unpredictable I had no idea when I'd be called upon to stand before His Royal Highness, so I had to make this thing in shifts. It was crazy, but it somehow pulled itself together.

Just a word about this dessert: We all know Pie makes the Food World go round. Practically anything- and I mean ANYTHING- can be Pie-ified. From fruits and veggies in so many forms, meats and poultry and eggs and cheese there is so much potential in a pie crust, or even just free-form pie dough! There is also something so wholesome about pie. It's unassuming, it doesn't care about frills, it's your bff and never ever judges. Pie loves unconditionally and will always be there for you when everyone else has abandoned you and your favorite Game of Thrones character has been given the axe. Pie is BAE. We turn to Pie when we want something quick and easy, fun and fresh and reliable, of course. Pie takes us back home. It's an understatement to say that it holds an important place in so many of our lives.How else do you explain why ALL SUMMER my instagram feed was exploding with Pie pictures? To be honest, I didn't grow up with Pie. My mom didn't bake at all. But over the years as a married person, I've seen the beauty in Pie. Its wisdom resonates with me. It brings people around the table and represents a connection between baker and eater. Oftentimes, as in my case a lot, they are one and the same person. Connecting with oneself is no less a remarkable feat.

Back to my story: To start, a couple of afternoons before my husband's birthday, I opened up my trusty, like-new copy of Williams-Sonoma's "Baking Book" where I had already bookmarked the recipe for classic Lemon Meringue Pie. I don't bake nearly as often as I cook, which explains the "like-new" part. I also don't cook with most of the recipes in my cookbooks, which explains why I could open up a curated cookbook shop with all my "like-new" cookbooks. What? I just really really like cookbooks... Anyhow, I nearly balked at the picture of the perfect slice just on the opposite page of the recipe, hoping secretly that some magical fairy would sweep into my house and conjure up a majestic pie before my eyes and then stay to chat over some coffee. Yeah... I didn't linger on that fantasy for long. That afternoon I sent my husband a shopping list. It wasn't very long. Mostly lemons. And eggs. I'm preeeetty sure I had just about everything else. Flour, check. Shortening, check. The Husband detests butter, did I mention THAT? It was like a knife to the gut, I tell you, the moment he told me he doesn't like the taste of butter. Who doesn't love butter??? I wept, softly, and then I comforted myself with buttery chocolate chip cookies.

Now where was I? Oh yes. Salt, sugar, cream of tartar, check, check, check. And then surprise surprise! The Husband came home in the middle of his work day just to hand me some eggs and lemons. Pie takes precedence, of course. Pie above all things. Surely that's a meme somewhere... Anyhoo, you better believe I immediately juiced those lemons! And then I continued on with my day. That evening after The Husband returned from work, after the three-ring-circus likewise known as "Dinner, Baths and Bed" and after my aforementioned infant decided to close his little eyes and slip into dreamland, at around 10:00 PM I combined some sugar and eggs in a large bowl and whisked. That's it, I told myself. There's no going back now. You can't un-egg that sugar. Then I remember adding the lemon juice and thinking something is not quite right, but I quickly dismissed it as being nothing and continued.

It was only when I finally combined flour, salt and shortening in the bowl of a food processor and blitzed did I finally realize my mistake: There was absolutely NO WAY I was going to be able to make the pie crust from scratch. I needed to make the dough, shape it, let it firm up in the fridge for at least a half hour and then bake it all before I could even fill it...Yikes! Who knew when the baby would wake up (he would eventually) and I'd have to just stop whatever I was doing... This would not work. I sent The Husband to buy some pre-made pie crusts and I continued making the lemon filling. I felt defeated slightly, like I had somehow cheated, but when The Husband returned with the pie crusts and I had finished whipping the filling and the baby had woken up I knew I had made the right decision. I wasn't going to be the tragic hero. I tended to baby again and in the meantime told The Husband to please par-bake the crust as per package and recipe instructions.

When I was done with baby I emerged from the darkness and picked up where I had left off. It was now 12:45 AM and I was in full-on "Midnighting Mode". (Midnighting. Def. Taking advantage of the just before and or through past Midnight period of peacefulness and serenity to fuel the creative process.) I was ecstatic to realize that I was nearly done! I poured the filling mixture into a saucepan and began to cook it. I watched the little bits of shortening melt into the curd as it thickened, forming little wispy white, creamy tendrils in the bright yellow liquid which was suddenly thickening super quickly. At this point, my eyes were closing slightly; I was so incredibly exhausted. I pulled it off the heat and ran it through a sieve. I can't explain the particular thrill I got while doing that. Pushing the cooked curd through the fine mesh, watching the incredibly smooth lemon concoction drip into the bowl below leaving the unwanted pulpy mess behind...it was magical. I felt like I had finally gotten something right. Something simple, but right.

I poured the pulp-free curd into the waiting pie crust and this is where my memory of the events gets a little hazy. Remember, it was already passed 1:00 AM in the morning. All I know is I was holding a dangling infant in one arm while trying to wrestle with some plastic wrap in the other. I don't know how I did it, but I managed to one-handedly cover that pie with plastic wrap without killing myself, nor my infant, but more importantly without accidentally shrink wrapping us both in clingy plastic. The Husband is a very intelligent man and couldn't for the life of him figure out how I managed to cut such a clean piece and neatly cover that pie with one hand, especially knowing my history with plastic wrap and how much I loathe it. BUT The Pie was covered nicely and tucked into the fridge where it would await the next phase: The Meringue.

To Be Continued...