Okay, so last year a friend of mine requested the recipe for my Famous-In-My-Own-Mind Lemon Meringue Pie that I serve up every Thanksgiving for the folks on the home front. I don't generally plagiarize myself, but this week is already uber jacked up with all the excessive happy holiday horse shit, that I thought I'd do myself a favor and repost this gem from last year. Don't judge me. Besides they're real, and they are SPECTACULAR! The pies aren't bad either. Hey Ooooo!
or Yes. They're real...and they are SPECTACULAR!
Okay, so every year at Thanksgiving I am asked, nay required, to bake two homemade lemon meringue pies for mass consumption at Big Mar's holiday table.
It's not that hard--that's what she said! You, too can wow your drunken, lame-ass family and friends. Fire up your printer, because I'm about to blow your mind by sharing our top-secret, passed from one generation to none, Luscious Lemon Pie recipe:
Lemon Meringue Pie
1 bottle of chilled Pinot Grigio or frozen bottle of Limoncello
¼ Cup Cornstarch
1/8 Teaspoon Salt
1 ½ Cup Sugar
¼ Cup Flour
1 ½ Cup Boiling Water
2 Tablespoons Butter
½ - ¾ Cup Lemon Juice
2 Teaspoons Lemon Peel
First things first, one must always be in the proper frame of mind when one is cooking or baking. This is key if your culinary treat is to come out at all edible. Ergo:
1. Load up your CD player with your favorite tunes of the moment. Crank it up to eleven or just until your ears start to bleed.
2. Uncork the wine or Limoncello. Pour a healthy glass full. Consume. Repeat as needed.
Bake pie crust as directed on package, unless you're a Martha Stewart wanna be and just HAVE to make your own crust, then you're on your own. Show off.
Separate eggs (they're notorious for not getting along), squeeze juice. (I said squeeze JUICE, not Judy! Sheesh!) In a non-stick pot, mix together sugar, cornstarch, flour and salt over medium high heat. Stir in boiling water gradually. Cook over direct heat, stirring constantly until thickened.
Refill your wine glass. Consume.
Beat yolks slightly (they don't seem to mind. eggs are kinda kinky that way) and stir in at least 1/2 of the hot mixture. (I usually only put about two spoonfuls in the egg yolk mixture because seriously, whose going to do this step. Really. I know, I know. This is so the yokes don't get all scrambly in the hot, sugary ooze. Yeah. Yeah. Whatever.)
Add yolks, juice, peel and butter. (I usually pour less than half of the juice in at first, then gradually add more as it is cooking. because honestly, sometimes there's just too much juice--That's what she said!!) Continue to cook, stirring until it is clear and thick. Add to cooled pie crust.
Time to Mering-gay, Baby!
Egg whites from the four eggs above (a reminder just in case you've been hitting Step 2 listed above an extra time or three and forgot)
1/4 tsp Cream of Tartar (whatever the hell that is. Really. What the heck is that? Tartar is, like plaque, isn't it? WTF?!? Who wants plaque in pie? Uh...you do, round eye.)
1/4 tsp of vanilla extract
8 tbsp of sugar
Beat egg whites (Holy Crap! ova are apparently the masochists of the food world) and the mysterious Cream of Tartar in your fabulous Kitchen Aid mixer.
Oh. You don't have one. So sad for you, Loser. You'll be working that hand mixer while the rest of us Kitchen Aid owners will have our hands free to refill and enjoy another lovely chilled glass of vino, chat on the phone and flip through a magazine while the mixer works its magic.
Add sugar, one tablespoon at a time until stiff peaks form. Add vanilla. Real vanilla. Not that cheap imitation crap. Mix one last time to infuse the essence of the individual flavors into the delectable white, sugary cloud of confectionery awesomeness known as Meringue. Slather onto previously constructed pie.
Bake for 10-12 minutes in a 400 degree oven. Voila!!
That ought to keep the little bastards all sugared up and happy.
There you have it. Nothing left to do, but fill your glass of hootch, unbutton your pants, grab a fork and dig in. You've earned it.
Happy Thanksgiving y'all!!