Lemon Meringue Pie
My father came to visit last week. And since I haven’t been posting anything of consequence, I would like to take this opportunity to blame my blog’s dry spell on my Dad. You see, had I not been touring contemporary art museums, imbibing tequila shots (yes, with my father), and generally being the best tour guide known to man, I would probably have been sitting alone in my apartment, writing useful content.
Instead, all I have to show for my lack of posting is this pie. This lemon meringue pie, which tastes of love and summer, that I specifically prepared for the arrival of my father and the remains of which have been heartily consumed by my boyfriend since the departure of said father. People, I whipped this meringue by hand. With a whisk. That’s love. Don’t tell me it’s not until you’ve reached minute forty-five of meringue whipping. It should probably be noted that I don’t own any manner of electric beaters, but that makes no difference. By hand! By hand!
You should make a pie for someone that you love. People love pie. People love the fact that you baked them something. People love you. (Are my daddy issues showing? Just kidding. Kind of.) Either way, here’s what happened.
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