As a granddaughter, and there are 6 of us, I don't think any us has truly mastered the lemon pie recipe even close to how Memere made it. Naturally, lemon pie was all my dad wanted for his birthday. The kicker- he wants fresh whipping cream too.
Ok. Game on.
First, before I got cooking, I had to do one thing. Give angelbaby a bath. He was a little stinker. This part of the story comes in critically later on.
Duncan sporting some Soul Glo.
While angelbaby was drying out in the Florida heat, DF made some sun-tea.
Ok, so now it is PIE TIME. Clean dog, check. Moving on:
I gathered all the necessary ingredients. I squeezed fresh lemon juice and I shaved my own lemon zest. I carefully folded ingredient after ingredient. Every time I make Memere's lemon pie, it never "gels" never gets to that jell-o like consistency.
This time however, it WORKED.
I nicked the side of my crust but I got this:
I was beaming with pride. So I set the pie to cool on top of the huge toaster oven, which is on the counter.
Next, I had to make the fresh whipping cream. I figured it was going to be really easy.
For extra help, I put my KitchenAid bowl in the freezer for a few minutes.
Then I added the cream directly into the bowl.
Turned the sucker on:
And.....nothing. I'm serious. I felt like a crazy person. I asked Grammy what I was doing wrong. She told me it was going to take more than one minute to happen and I should just let my mixer work its magic.
Um, no. I was going to watch that thing like a hawk until something happened.
About 6 or 7 minutes later it finally happened! Whipped cream! I tasted it, and it sure did taste like butter, so I threw in some sugar for good measure.
Ok, now things get interesting. I let mooshie lick the spoon. I'm horrible I know, but he rarely if ever gets a treat from a human, so he went after that spoon like Wolverine.
So, I thought I was done. I left the kitchen to go wrap papa's presents.
I was gone about one minute. I realized I was missing scotch tape, so I came back into the kitchen.
My pie was on the FLOOR.
ON. THE. FLOOR.
And there is Duncan. Covered in yellow lemon pie. I was furious. Everyone rushed into the kitchen and I started to cry. Pie was everywhere. It was a mess.
The only comment my dad made was, "Tell me you made two pies...." Uh, no dad, no I didn't. And how the hell did Duncan rocket himself onto the counter to get the pie off the toaster oven in under one minute without anyone hearing anything? What, is he a phantom? Oh wait, he is. The freakin' phantom menace.
Well, folks. Here is what happened next. It was now crunch time. I whipped together the most amazing Italian Mac and Cheese, and I did it in record time. Two huge casseroles.
Then with exactly 25 minutes before company was due over, I threw together ANOTHER lemon pie. It didn't have time to sit and cool, so I put it in the fridge to set-up.
Dinner was a huge success. Everyone said it was great. Dad opened his presents, and then it was finally time for pie. I cut him a huge slice, drop on a heaping spoonful of fresh whipped cream and hand it to papa.
I inhale sharply as he takes his first bite. He rolls it around in his mouth, puckers his lips, and smiles.
I ask, "well? WELL? How is it? Good? Even close to Memere's?"
Papa says, "well, her's was a lot tangier, but good try."
...and that is how my Saturday went. Duncan still needs to have another bath and my pie was close, but no cigar.
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