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January 24th, 2010

Notes on Key Lime Pie

Pie Crust

Every perfect pie begins with a perfect crust. And there’s no such thing as a single perfect crust, no matter what anyone might tell you. Each crust has to complement the pie it supports, and only the eater can really know for sure what the perfect combination is.

Well, the eater and me, of course. Because I have a “thing” for pie. A sixth sense. It’s just a little quirk I have.

My sister says I’ve had it all my life. Maybe she’s right. She remembers a time when I made her cry for a week because I baked her a birthday pie right after I found out my boyfriend was cheating on me. I was upset when I made the pie, so my sister became upset when she ate it. According to her, she cried inexplicably for a week. I actually don’t remember that. The her crying part, I mean. I remember the boyfriend. His name was Bryan. With a “y”. I should have known he would be trouble.

Pie Filling

Honestly, I think it’s cheating to use Cool Whip in a homemade pie recipe, but sometimes you have to cheat. Like the time in college I was too brokenhearted after a devastating car accident to finish a term paper and had to ask a friend to finish it for me. My professor found out, but she took pity on me and didn’t report me to the dean. I’m sure I would have been expelled. Instead she failed me in the course.

But it worked out all right. You don’t need a degree in sociology to become a pie baker.

Though having a knack for people helps.

Directions:

  1. Preheat the oven to 375.
  2. Combine the ingredients for the crust.
  3. Spread the crust mixture into a 9 inch pie pan. (I prefer metal. You can use glass. If you’re not a purist.
  4. Bake for 20 – 25 minutes. (This is a guesstimate. The crust should hold its form and not release crumbs when touched. But honestly, this isn’t how I know my crust is ready. I know the crust is ready when I can smell it from thirty paces and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, but I realize this isn’t a useful measurement for most bakers.)
  5. Remove from oven and let cool completely. On the porch if you’ve got one.

My mother didn’t bake. Doesn’t bake. She drinks a lot, which I guess has always been her hallmark. She didn’t bother too much with my sister and me, preferring to leave the child rearing to Matola, our housekeeper-cum-nanny. But I don’t resent my mother for that. Her inattentiveness and self-absorption is just who she is. She left Tiny and me to far more loving hands than hers, and Matola’s kindness taught me to love myself, to care for myself, and to be the woman I grew up to be. Could my mother have offered me the same stability and self-assurance? I doubt it. Those weren’t her strong suits.

No, I don’t resent my mother for the things she couldn’t help. I resent her for the things she could have helped but didn’t. I resent her for never once trying to be a better mother. I resent her for making alcoholism look glamorous. I resent her for turning Tiny out of the house when all she did was get pregnant too young and out of wedlock.

Which was stupid of her, yes. Every modern woman knows about birth control. And it’s not like she couldn’t afford it.

But what do I know? I haven’t had a man, or a reason to use birth control, in years. And it’s not because of my thighs.

Directions for the filling:

  1. Combine all the filling ingredients in a mixer.
  2. Pour the cream cheese mixture into the crust.
  3. Refrigerate for at least an hour or until the cream cheese is firm.

“Firm thighs,” my mother said in her evaluative tone as I descended the steps in my prom dress. It was black and A-line with fluttery sleeves and a flattering V-neckline. I had preened and primped in the mirror for 30 minutes before trusting myself to come downstairs. I was brimming with confidence and joy until my mother stopped me dead in my tracks with an analytic stare that blatantly read, “Does not measure up.”

“That’s all your dress is missing, darling. Firm thighs.” My mother sighed, brushing her platinum blonde hair from her eyes. “Why you couldn’t spend a few hours at the gym I just don’t know. Boys don’t like fat girls. That’s probably why you’re going stag.”

The idea that I was fat at 16 should have been ridiculous to my ears. I was a size 10, and at 5’6 that was perfectly normal and healthy. I was a pretty girl, and in that dress I looked like a million dollars. Besides, the dress came just to my knees. You couldn’t even see my thighs. I was going stag because I’d caught my asshole of a boyfriend making out with Meaghan Florence who wore a size 6 and had firm everything.

My mother would approve.

I should have told my mother to go jump in a lake. But teenaged girls are not models of self confidence, and my mother’s words rang like a bell inside my head, sending me into a downspiral of self doubt and insecurity.

The thing is, I don’t think she said it to be cruel. She really, truly, thought it was the appropriate thing to say.

Lime Curd

Directions for the lime curd:

  1. Cream the butter and the sugar until fluffy
  2. Add the eggs one at a time, scraping down the bowl as you go. Ensure each egg is fully absorbed before adding the next.
  3. Add the lime juice
  4. In a double boiler, gently heat the lime curd mixture. Whisk constantly until the curd thickens.
  5. When the curd is nice and thick, pour into a ceramic or glass bowl, cover, and refrigerate.

I was in college when my father died. It isn’t much of a story. He died unexpectedly of heart failure. I was sad, but not overly so as a daughter should be, because my father and I were not close. I would love to tell you that we had a classic Daddy’s Little Girl relationship, but the truth is he wasn’t around very much. Though when he was around, he clearly preferred Tiny to me. That was okay, as most everyone preferred Tiny to me. It was hard not to. Conventionally beautiful, smart, and brimming over with personality, Tiny could wrap anyone around her little finger, and did, most of the time. Give her and inch and she’d take a mile. But you couldn’t hold it against her. It was just her way.

Baking key lime pie always makes me remember the more sour parts of my life.

I’m working on it.

Whipped Topping

Directions for topping:

  1. Beat the whipping cream with the sugar on high speed until it holds stiff peaks.

Putting it all together:

  1. Once the cream cheese is firm (unlike my 16 year old thighs) pour the lime curd over top of the cream cheese layer.
  2. Spread the whipped topping over the lime curd.
  3. Garnish the whipped cream with the lime zest.
  4. Refrigerate at least 2 hours but preferably over night before serving.
  5. Be prepared for comments about your delicious pie’s unconventional coloring.

“This key lime pie isn’t green,” Mama said, her eyebrows drawn together like curtains on a too warm day. “Why on earth is this key lime pie yellow?”

It was Thanksgiving, the last Thanksgiving Daddy was with us. “Real key lime pie isn’t green, Mama,” I said, my voice even. I was used to her criticisms by then. “If a key lime pie is green, it means they added food coloring. Real key lime pie is the color of butter and egg yolks,” I said, sliding a hefty slice onto Daddy’s plate. I was proud of myself for knowing these things, and excited to be able to share my knowledge with my family.

But Mama wasn’t impressed. “I don’t know why you’re wasting your time in college if all you seem to be learning is how to bake unconventional pies,” she said, pushing her slice away from her without even taking a bite. “I grew up eating key lime pie and it’s always been green and quite good, too, I might add.”

If that was a test, I’d failed. Tiny and I had exchanged looks, finished off our slices, and gone in for seconds.

I should have taken the whole pie and shoved it in Mama’s face. I wonder what Daddy would have done. Would he have laughed? Would the laughter have relieved the pressure that was building up in his heart? Could shoving my mother’s austere face into a whipped cream covered pastry perfection have saved my father’s life?

Pie can do amazing things. It can make people laugh, or sing, or purr. But I don’t know if pie can save a life.

But I’d be willing to try.

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3 Responses to “Notes on Key Lime Pie”



  1. amber simmons says:
    January 25th, 2010

    Key Lime Pie was actually one of the first four Love & War stories I wrote. I had intended to post it earlier in the project, but the other plot lines seemed more pressing. Then, when out of nowhere Gracey gets disowned (I didn’t know that was going to happen. Sometimes stories veer off in directions completely unforeseen) I decided this was a good time to delve a little into Gracey’s past.

    And this is one hell of a key lime pie recipe, too.






  2. Sooo hungry now, and I don’t have all of the ingredients for a Key Lime Pie. :(

    “Give her and inch …” should probably be “an”.

    Enjoying the story so much I don’t have the inclination to stop an comment on each post. :)






  3. Errr, that should have been “and” in my last sentence, not “an”!!




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