Key Lime Pie: When It's Too Hot To Turn On The Oven, But You Need Dessert

So, I'm going to a dinner party tonight, and was asked to bring dessert. It's hotter than fuck out there, and sticky, and gross, and I really don't want to turn on the oven. The last time I supped with this group, I also brought dessert, and that, friends, was my near-famous strawberry shortcake with thyme and balsamic vinegar. Mmm. Mmm, yes, but it ruled out another shortcake option (which, face it, is one of the best options in this nasty-assed weather).

So, what to do? By the time I thought of a puff pastry tart, it was too late to buy and defrost puff pastry. (Note to self: buy puff pastry, put in freezer for just such an occasion.) (Additional note to self: you're 39 years old -- shouldn't you be able to type "occasion" properly the first time 'round?)

Long story short (too late), it came down to a chocolate ganache pie (only heat required: microwave for melting chocolate and butter, as long as you use a pre-done crumb crust), or the ultimate in no-bake goodness: Key Lime Pie.

And Key Lime Pie won the day. 2 crumb crusts, 4 egg yolks, 2 cans sweetened condensed milk, and a scant cup of key lime juice. Plus obscene amounts of whisking. No, really. Right now, I'm sitting barely clad right under the a/c because I'm sweating like a pig would sweat if a pig could sweat which they can't. I'm just saying. If offered a wallow, I'd consider saying "yes."

Anywho. I now have two pies setting up in the fridge. I'm not going to top it off with meringue, because, again, see the "no oven, damn it" stance of hot weather cookery. I will likely pick up some whipping cream on the way to the dinner, just because there's extra head room on the pies, and I like a pie that looks ample, not accommodating.

You're thinking to yourself at this point "Um....are those egg yolks raw?" Well...only as raw as the scallops in your ceviche are raw. The acid in the lime juice denatures the proteins in the eggs, "cooking" 'em. If you've a compromised immune system, you might want to shy away from this, but if you're okay with sushi or ceviche or delicious unpasteurized cheeses, you should be fine with this authentic tasty pie.

Scaled down version of the recipe (for those rare occasions where one pie is deemed enough):

Key Lime Pie
Based on bits and pieces of far too many recipes

2 egg yolks
1 14-oz can of sweetened condensed milk
1/4-1/2 cup key lime juice
1 9" graham cracker crumb crust pie shell

If you have a hand mixer, this'd be a good time to use it. Otherwise, this is a good recipe to work out your whisking arms. Whisk the egg yolks until they are very, very pale yellow and frothy. Add in the sweetened condensed milk, and whisk, whisk, whisk, whisk. You want to keep whisking until it is getting noticeably thickened -- when you pick the whisk up out of the goo, it should come off the whisk in sheets, not in drips. So, whisk some more. If you're using electrics, this'll be at about the 4 minute mark. If you're going by hand, it'll be longer. Whisk away, baby. On a really hot day, you might want to make sure you're sitting under an air conditioner, so you can stay cool.

Once your goo is thick, add in 1/4 cup of key lime juice (preferably fresh, but if your choice is between fresh NON-key limes or bottled key lime juice, go for the bottled). Stir, stir, stir until it's well incorporated. Then, dip your very clean pinky tip into the goo, and taste. Is it tart enough? Is it lime-y enough? If not, add more lime juice, up to another 1/4 cup (so, up to 1/2 cup total. No more, or I won't vouch for the setting-up-ability of the pie).

Pour into a prepared crumb crust, scraping all the gooey goodness out of the bowl and into the pie. Place gently in your fridge, and let it sit there for a good 4 hours before serving.

Garnishing options:

• grated fresh lime zest
  
• candied lime peel
  
• fresh lime wheels
  
• little dabs of whipped cream
  
• great big globs of whipped cream
  
• more Cool Whip than might strictly be considered healthy
  
• meringue made from those 2 egg whites you have left over from separating out your yolks for this recipe (note: this would require turning on the oven)

You could use a ginger snap crust, if you want a ginger-lime pie. You could use a chocolate crumb crust for a black-bottom key lime pie. You could do away with crust completely and just let the goo set up in wee ramekins or custard dishes. I won't judge.

Bonus Post: Ceviche Costa Rica Style

My hands smell like limes, and I don't have a cocktail in front of me. Astute observers might conclude that I've been making something else with lime juice. And, it's true. I've been making ceviche, but if you're used to having ceviche at your local tex-mex place, you might be a little cautious when you see mine.

Ceviche, Costa Rica Style
1 lb bay scallops (sea scallops work, too, but are more expensive, and
need to be cut into bite-sized bits)
4 limes
1/2 bunch cilantro
1/2 red onion (or, you know, any other onion you have around)
1-2 glugs olive oil
salt
saltine crackers
mayo
ketchup

Place scallops in a clean, non-reactive bowl or jar. Cover with the juice of 4 limes -- the scallops need to be covered in the juice. Add cilantro and onion, both finely chopped, salt, and olive oil. Let marinate in the fridge overnight -- it helps to put plastic wrap over the bowl, letting the plastic rest on the surface of the ceviche to make sure there's no air getting in. Serve on crackers, garnished with a mixture of mayo and ketchup.

I say the recipe is mine; it's not. It's really my dad's (that's him in the picture above..handsome devil, no?). See, way back in the 80s, Dad went on sabbatical to Costa Rica, and he ambitiously took my sister and I along. I look back at that and have to realize: I am now two (nearly three) years older now than my dad was when we went. It is a weird feeling. Anyway, long digression short, my grandma came down to stay with us for several months, and with the anniversary of her death this month, I'm all sorts of nostalgic for all things family.

Back to the fish. My dad fell in love with ceviche down there, and when we got back to the States, he worked and worked to recreate it. He had the darnedest time finding cilantro (this was Oregon, in the early/mid-80s, after all), and no one had heard of ceviche. He prevailed, and this is how I know ceviche.

Dad and I would stand around the kitchen counter, spooning the fish out of a tall jar onto a saltine, and then dolloping on a ketchup/mayo sauce (mix 1 part to 1 part).

I know that sounds strange. I know that we're conditioned now to think only of tortilla chips and maybe some salsa when eating ceviche.

The saltines and Marie Rose are authentically 1984 Costa Rica. I will vouch for it. Give it a try. Throw caution cautiously to the wind. If you end up hating it -- and I've never met anyone who does -- you can always rip open a bag of Tostitos and uncap a jar of Jardine's.

I've got a bowl of ceviche tucked into the fridge, and tomorrow evening, I'll be eating it with friends.

Costa Rica style.

7 Rules for Grilling: Controlling Kibitzers & Fire

While I love the recipes in old cookbooks, I really love the non-recipe content. Odd illustrations, weird apostrophes (figure of speech, there, not punctuation) (though there's strange punctuation, too), and tons of tables, tips, and rules to keep you from killing yourself or others in your quest for keeping folk fed.

It's 95°F here in Washington, DC today, so there's no way in heck I'll be standing over a fire. So, it's virtual barbeque time for me. The steak on coals method isn't for me, but Betty Crocker's Outdoor Cook Book has lots of other tidbits to try, and tons of info to help you along the way. This afternoon, let's look into Betty Crocker's fire rules, kicking off with one of Tom Funk's illustrations -- he doesn't exactly put the funk in funky, but his midcentury drawings appeal.

The basic rules for fire building and control that follow will give you a fast start in the right direction, but only by firsthand experience does anyone develop that second sense that tells the expert how to make the outdoor grill produce reliable results.

Rule One: Before you light your fire, collect or have easily at hand all of the fuel you expect to use--and a little more!

Rule Two: Once your pilot fire is kindled and burning well, add as readily as possible all of the rest of the fuel so that it can burn down all at once to an even bed of coals.

Rule Three: Use a little more fuel than actually necessary. Nothing is a wider open invitation to trouble than a fire that is too small.

Rule Four: When necessary to add fuel to a well-established fire--as it sometimes is during a long cooking period--add it at the edges and rake it in when well kindled. Never put the fresh fuel in the center as this reduces heat rapidly.

Rule Five:Allow plenty of time for the fire to reach its proper cooking heat. Half an hour is the minimum for charcoal briquets, and 45 minutes to an hour is safer.

Rule Six: Once your fire is well under way, disturb it as little as possible. Constant poking and raking breaks up pockets of heat and lowers temperature.

Rule Seven: Develop some stern method of kibitzer control. People who would not dream of regulating your kitchen oven seem unable to resist "helping" the oudoor chef by stirring up his fire. They mean well. Indeed, such activity usually shows the first gleam of determination to try outdoor cooking for themselves. But threaten them off with the tongs, if necessary. two firemasters is one too many.

So, the first four rules are Do This; Seriously, Do This; No, Really, Do This; So You Didn't Do What We Told You To....Here's How To Fix. Then, two rules covering Leave Well Enough Alone, Already.

I don't know that I've ever had a small fire be a wide open invitation to trouble before. Large fires, sure. There was a fire pit in Northern Ireland, and that was a wide open invitation to some contemplation. Well, for me, contemplation. For Alex, a teen pilgrim and firebug, I suppose a small fire is in fact a wide open invitation to, if not trouble, at least to a bigger fire.



Here at Take One Cookbook... we like to think thoughts of peace and not of affliction, so I would like you to disregard Betty Crocker's advise to threaten people with tongs. It's not very civil. Plus, you use those tongs on food -- don't muck 'em up on overly eager "firemasters."

Bonus Post: Anna Van Blarcom

It's Restaurant Week here in DC, and I kicked it off by having dinner with my friend Jeannette at Ceiba. Between courses, I asked if she knew about an Anna Van Blarcom.

Oh, boy, did she! Anna didn't marry into the MacCutcheon family; rather, she was a MacCutcheon who married into the Van Blarcoms. THE Van Blarcoms, of Van Blarcom Closures. They made metal bottle tops for soda bottles and the like. Stopped making them when the industry went over to plastics, because plastics factories worked around the clock, and the Van Blarcoms weren't going to run three shifts and never shut for the night. No, not the Van Blarcoms.

Anna was a proper Quaker lady, and always wore simple grey dresses. When she died, in the 70s, her family went up to close up the estate. The found her grey dresses, yes, but the also found what she wore under the dresses.

Nothing but bright red silk underthings.

Go, Anna.

Bonus Post: A Recipe For Getting Thin

The "cute factor" of The Pooh Cook Book runs high. If you are of the sort that finds things Pooh charming as opposed to treacly, I must recommend you go out and buy yourself a copy -- you can find it through Amazon resellers or on eBay.

But, as charming as I find the recipes themselves, sometimes, you need to see a page to truly get it. So, here:

A Recipe For Getting Thin



"how long does getting thin take?" asked Pooh anxiously.
-- Winnie-the-Pooh

Aw. It's a recipe for getting thin. With no ingredients. And a picture of Christopher Robin reading to Pooh, who is stuck in Rabbit's hole.

Aw! I love this book. I didn't think it possible, but I love it even more after this week of sharing recipes. I can't recommend this book highly enough.

Tomorrow morning, I'll cook up one of the recipes, and then we'll move on to whichever cookbook wins the poll in the right-hand column of this blog.

Bonus Post: Handy Tips, And Biscuits

As we finish the first week of Take One Cookbook..., there's still a host of fun things from The Savannah Cook Book that I want to get in to and share. So...a bonus post!

Lots of cookbooks have handy hints and tips. Conversions. Substitutions. Ms. Colquitt doesn't disappoint -- she has a Potpourri section smack dab in the middle of the book. It wraps up this way:

Did You Know That

The secret of good seasoning is garlic -- but that you will be sorry if you take that too seriously?

That aspic made from the juice of pickled peaches or other fruit is an excellent accompaniment for cold meats? One pint of juice to one tablespoon (or one-half package) of gelatine is the proportion?

That the juice from pickled fruits also makes a delicious spiced French dressing?

That the juice from brandied peaches makes a perfect cocktail sauce for any kind of fruit?

That mushroom sauce turns warmed-over lamb or veal into something to write home about?

That if you put a little salt in the whipped cream which you serve on creamed soups, and add a little cut-up parsley, it will make it additionally attractive?

That a little baking powder in your meringues will keep them from falling?

That brown sugar is better than white for all kinds of punch stock, since it makes a thicker syrup, and that some people go so far as to say you should always use it for strawberry sauce?

That cole slaw is a fine accompaniment for fish, if you have no cucumbers?

That shredded lettuce makes a delightful garnish?

Why, no. I didn't know. I don't think I'd ever even considered taking garlic too seriously. Nor considered putting whipped cream on a cream soup. I've never felt the lack of cucumbers when having fish, nor thought of most shredded lettuce as delightful outside of a drive-through taco. And even most times, not then.

But I know things now, many marvelous things...

Doctor Science asked for the recipe for biscuits I mentioned. There are measurements in dry pints. Heck, it even ties in nicely with the discussion on scarcity, and baking powder from yesterday, too. So, a good close to the week, I think.

What? No Baking Powder?
Biscuits To Eat With Terrapin Stew

1 pint flour
1/2 spoonful lard
1/2 tablespoon sugar
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup milk or water
pinch salt

Dissolve sugar in milk. Sift flour and salt, and rub butter and lard into flour and mix with hands very quickly on kneading board. Roll out very thin, almost like paper, and cut with sharp knife. Bake in moderate oven.

If you make some to go with your Terrapin Stew, do let me know. Until then, it's time to put The Savannah Cook Book back on the shelf.