The Things We Do for Love, Part II: Meringue-Utan

It was at the point where my hands and parts of my face and clothing were covered with meringue, my right arm was a painful appendage that seemed to be about to drop off my shoulder at any moment and my baby was again a prominent feature in my escapades, being dangled in my left arm, that I realized I probably had bitten off more than I could chew. Why hadn't I waited??? I kept asking myself regretfully. It was too late now, obviously. Although the situation became so desperate that I had to enlist the help of my 5 year old to whip the egg whites every now and then because I had to take an extended break to nurse an infant who'd reached his max.

In order to fully appreciate my epic mistake, there is something you need to know: There isn't only one or even two official methods of making meringue. There are three. The common way, otherwise known as the French way, where egg whites are beaten to soft peaks and then sugar is beaten into them, the less common but preferred method by bakers, the Italian way, where hot sugar syrup is added to beaten egg whites and the Swiss way, where sugar and egg whites are whisked together in a bowl over hot water until the sugars dissolve and then the mixture is beaten to stiff peaks. With me so far? Awesome. Here's where the fun really starts.

It all started out fine. Eggs were separated just fine. Spotlessly clean metal bowl. I got it into my head that I just HAD to whip these babies by hand, not with a HAND mixer, oh no! BY HAND, with a whisk. Yeah. I know. Eggs were in the bowl and I began to gently usher the eggs back and forth as I was guided to do by the good people of the internet (So far, we were using the French method). Minutes went by and before I knew it the stuff was foamy. What did my book say?? I checked the recipe in the Williams-Sonoma Baking Book and there was something about corn starch and different stages of foaminess about the eggs and I was a little confused. Did I think for a second "Girl, maybe you don't got this?" Nah. Onward! Soft peaks, stiff peaks. I'd figure it out later. I added the sugar when it was still at the foamy stage (like the Swiss method) and then I realized that the eggs were COLD and were most definitely supposed to be WARM (definitely not part of ANY method). Ahhhh...Too late! There was nothing I could do. For the next TWO HOURS- and that is NOT in any way an exaggeration- I whipped these whites. My arm. Oh, my poor arm. It felt like at any second it would literally just fall right off. Never had I given it such an endless workout. "What were you THINKING, woman?" It kept asking me, "Seriously?? What demon took hold of your consciousness and willed you to suffer through this???" AAARRRGGGHHH! In retrospect, it was most definitely a form of madness, but I would definitely choose to do it again. WUT?

No, really. I whipped those whites so painfully slowly that I was really able to see the steady, gradual and even subtle changes in the egg whites as they went from bubbly to slightly foamy to very foamy to creamy and then several more stages of soft peaks. But stiff peaks? Nah, I never actually made it there 100%. Are you stunned?Don't be. I know, I know. Even after all that I still couldn't manage to get there. Just as the stiff peaks would come into being, my arm would slow down and remind me that I'd been doing this for over 2 whole hours and it needed a break. I had even employed my left arm at some points BUT even so it couldn't get us past that threshold. The Husband wouldn't be home for another hour at least. There was nothing more that could be done. I knew that if I left it for the ambiguous "later" there would be no "later" and definitely no more meringue. That much I'd learned at least. I would end up watching the entire two hours of muscle building simply collapse unceremoniously into a weepy mess. (Sigh) Almost stiff-peaks would have to do.

I realize at this point I should probably tell you about the slurry, which is what that corn starch mixture was for. A slurry to add to the meringue at some unclear point in the process. "When the egg whites are foamy and can form a ribbon that folds back on itself". I can't tell you how many times I lifted the whisk to see how the egg whites would behave and to catch the elusive ribboning in action. Never happened. Or, if it did, it pulled some ninja moves and kept completely out of sight. Regardless, I forgot about the warming slurry on the stove and before I knew it I had bubbling slurry (totally not what you want, btw) and then bland and tasteless corn starch jell-o. Ugh. And then I thought "For real, though. Why do I need that slurry anyway???" I tossed it quite happily and proceeded with retrieving my pie from the fridge.

"Check this out!!" I yelled to my girls as I used a spatula to scoop the egg whites onto the pie, "It's actually happening!!" The five year old came in and ooh-ed and aah-ed. It was way cool. I heaped it all top and then got busy making swoops and horls in the meringue. I put it into the oven FINALLY!! And then like a mother hen I just kept dodging into the kitchen and into the oven to babysit The Pie and make sure it was looking okay. And then it was done. And I was taking it out of the oven. And I was placing it on my stove to cool. "GUYS!!! COME SEE!!!" I was giddy. The first thing my six year-old said when she saw was "Wow! It looks like a real lemon meringue pie!" I laughed at that. "It IS real!" I said. "Can I have a piece??" was the next thing she said and to that I told her we'd have to wait until her father got home.

You'd have thought I would have learned my lesson. Many many of them, in fact. But no. Instead of refrigerating that pie as soon as it was cooled I plum forgot and it sat in my warm kitchen. I think you know what kind of ending this story has... The curd softened and when we cut into it later that day it ran straight into the empty wedge of space the removed slice had created. I was heartbroken. All that work and it wouldn't even cut nicely enough for me to take a decent picture??? BUT there was definitely a silver lining: because of the way I had whipped the egg whites, adding the sugar all the way at the beginning before getting them to soft peaks, the meringue was more stable and didn't weep very much. After spending a night in the fridge the curd firmed up again and I was actually able to cut a decent slice (because there is NOTHING more important than getting that picture, amiright?).

Heeeelllooo Gorgeous!! Look at those sexy curls!

In this one you can actually see how the lemon curd ran. But it turned out okay in the end.

How did it taste? Pretty darn good, actually. The meringue was pillowy but held up well too. It was crispy in places and melted in my mouth. The curd was smooth and silky, very lemony, tart and sweet as it should've been and only slightly grainy from the vegetable shortening. All's well that ends well, as they say. The Husband was incredibly grateful. I wish I could've gotten a picture of his open-mouthed face as he stared lovingly at The Pie when he walked in the door after work. "Wow! That looks like a lemon meringue pie!!" And yeah. I'd probably throw my arm out for him again if I had to, although he honestly thought he married a crazy person when I told him I whipped them by hand. Still, somebody should have warned me that Meringue was definitely a whole different animal. Wild, carefree and yeah, kinda fun. Like some sort of ape. A Meringue-utan.

#pie #lemon #fall #autumn #dessert #desserts #meringue #yellow #birthday #love #baking #bake #life