Lemon Meringue Pie

Since I'm married without children and younger than 72 years old, people tend to ask when/if I'm having kids. The answer: I don't know, maybe? Well, today I had a practice run, hanging out with Amber's little girl Emma while the baby mama took a little time to relax. Emma and I ended up being pretty good buds. I took her for a walk, she spit up on my arm. I fed her, she farted on my leg. You know, all the stuff girlfriends do.

But who can resist spit up from a cutie like this?

Last week I saw the movie Waitress with Keri Russell as a pie-making guru. She sings a little song during the movie:

Baby don't you cry

Gonna make a pie

Gonna make a pie

With a heart in the middle

So while folding socks with Emma at my side, I was thinking about that movie, that tune, those pies. I thought about those fresh eggs I got this week from the egg lady for $1 a carton. I thought about that lemon juice from Arizona that I still had in the freezer. Hmm. Lemon. Eggs. Pie.

Lemon meringue it is.

Lemon meringue is the retro kitsch queen of pie. Bright yellow filling, the jellied consistency, fluffy topping to show off the fact that you have a kitchen appliance that will whip egg whites that high. And y'all know I'm a sucker for kitchen kitsch. I had visions of pulling this pie out of the fridge, with its huge pile of lightly toasted meringue crowning a bright yellow lemon filling, perhaps wearing pearls and heels with my hair in a elegant twist, a la June Cleaver.

So I made the pie, cooled it, put it in the fridge to set, and then this is what happened:

Shrinkage. I didn't push the meringue close enough to the edges. Pie 1, Beth 0.

But the pie still tasted fine and the baby survived my novice babysitting session, so all is right with the world.

And in case you are wondering, there are no babies in my immediate future, but it's always good to know I can borrow this giggling gal for an afternoon.