Key Lime Pie

Judson and I started dating in 2009, and it was early in 2015 before we realised that we were planning each other's birthdays based on what we ourselves want for our own birthdays. That is, for years I made him a cake every year because (to me), a birthday is not a birthday if you can't have cake (with frosting). And for years, he suffered through slices of cake in which he had no interest*, because he didn't want to hurt my feelings.

I, on the other hand, suffered through years of birthdays with no cake (my birthdays were, obviously, much worse than his cake-filled ones) because he hates cake, and so it never even occurred to him to buy one, much less make one. It wasn't until I turned 29 last fall that I realised I would have to do something about my cakeless birthdays because they were bumming me out so badly, and when I mentioned to Judson that cake was kind of central to my birthday experience, he hesitated for a brief second before suggesting, “Ok, I'll make sure to handle cake on your future birthdays... But do you think you could stop making me cake on my birthday?”

At least it only took us five years instead of thirty to figure this out, I guess?

Oh well, I took my mission seriously this year and successfully made NO CAKE for Judson's 35th birthday this year... but when I found this 3 ingredient Key Lime Pie recipe in the box (handwritten in pencil on the back of a class schedule), and remembered that key lime pie is the only dessert Judson will put up with (besides root beer floats), I knew I had to make it anyway. And it got two thumbs up from the birthday boy, so I think I chose wisely.

We had a busy weekend celebrating Judson's birthday with friends on Friday night, with my dad on Saturday (who happened to be in town), and with an amazing dinner high over the city at a fancy restaurant on Saturday night, so I only had a few minutes to make this. Thusly, I chose to use a pre-made crust. But before you judge, keep this in mind: I've probably made more pie crusts in the last two months than most people have in the last five years, and I've discovered something important: pie crusts taste roughly the same whether they are homemade or store-bought, but they are infinitely more difficult to make than they are to buy. Making a good one is a skill that everyone should have, but this time around, I didn't particularly feel the need to do so. If you, like me, need an amazing summery dessert but don't have the time to make an elaborate one, try this. It's delicious.

So if you're celebrating the birthday of someone you love as much as I love my amazing, supportive, bearded, silly, video-game-playing, song-writing husband, make this quick and easy pie. Even if your dearly beloved doesn't like birthday cake, chances are they'll still love this pie.

*HOW does someone have no interest in cake, and WHO is this man who I have committed my life to?

P.S. I recognise that this pie is, strictly speaking, a lime pie, since it's made with Persian Limes (the only kind I can get my hands on over here), but if you can access key lime juice (or, even better, key limes), you can make it the way it should be, and it would be even more delicious. But don't feel bad if all you have is regular limes. No one will know the difference.

The verdict:

5 spoons out of five. I grew up in Florida, I love key lime pie just as much as Judson, and we had a blast celebrating his birthday with this amazing pie. If you're feeling ambitious, make this with a homemade crust (might I recommend this one?). But if you're like me and need a corner to cut, this is the perfect recipe on which to use a pre-made shortcrust or graham cracker crust (if you're in the US). You know, I think I'll go have a slice right now.

The recipe:

(Key) Lime Pie

the directions:

Preheat oven to 176C/350F.
Mix all ingredients together and pour in pie shell.
Bake 15 minutes until just set but not yet browned.
Serve chilled.

the ingredients:

1 can condensed milk
½ c lime juice
4 egg yolks
1 pre-made pie crust

Chocolate Soda

Remember last week when I made chocolate banana milkshakes and tried to claim that Eleanor must have saved the recipe (which was included in a Quik advert) so that she could make the shakes with her grandchildren? Yeah, I was wrong.

Upon further inspection, I realised that the second recipe included in the pamphlet is, in fact, basically an egg cream.* ('Ah, an egg cream!' says everyone over the age of 50. 'what the hell is an egg cream?' says everyone else).

An egg cream, as I learned the only time I ever visited Queens, is a drink containing neither eggs nor cream and sold mainly at soda fountains, mainly in Brooklyn, mainly in the mid-twentieth century. When I was in New York a few years ago, I met up with a friend in Queens and he took me to an adorable coffee-shop-cum-soda-fountain, and I knew I had to get an egg cream because it was the only drink on the menu I hadn't heard of. Honestly, it was a little disappointing. Kind of water-y and strange (because you never expect milk to be fizzy), and somehow not super flavourful. I didn't blame the restaurant: I just figured egg creams weren't for me.

But then I remembered that they involved milk and soda water, and I thought I'd better look them up again before I made any big-time declarations about how Quik had invented this weird drink. Sure enough, this recipe is just an egg cream with a scoop of ice cream, and now I'm pretty sure Eleanor actually saved that silly Quik advert so she could make herself an egg cream anytime she wanted it (she was, after all, a Brooklyn native who lived there throughout the heyday of the egg cream in the 1930s, 40s, and 50s).

Now, before you're turned off because the phrase 'egg cream' sounds like a thick, custardy drink, know this: the great thing about egg creams is that they're really light-- perfect for summer. I daresay you could even drink one of these on the beach without worrying about going into an ice cream coma.

As for the recipe: If you happen to be the one person in one thousand who owns a set of parfait glasses, now is definitely the time to use them. Pop one of those suckers in the freezer, find yourself a pretty straw, and go to town. Allegedly, when egg creams were invented, you could get a chocolate or a vanilla one-- but I have no idea what the vanilla one had in it to make it vanilla. Just the ice cream, maybe? Or some kind of vanilla syrup reduction (yes, please!), but either way I think this is a question that demands more research... if only I could find a bottle of Quik.

*Here's a fun egg cream fact: when I looked them up to find out the recipe, I learned that no one actually knows why they are called egg creams (seeing as how they contain neither of those ingredients). Explanations vary from 'maybe they used to be made with all those ingredients?' to 'maybe they were (inexplicably) named in French as chocolat et crème, and Americans misheard it?' I'm unsatisfied by both of those explanations, but I do like the idea that even back in the 1800s, naming something in French immediately made it more desirable.

The verdict:

4 spoons out of five. This is a surprisingly refreshing take on the milkshake-- one that doesn't require me to get out my food processor, UK power converter, and all the accoutrements that go along with it. Plus, it's less filling and won't leave you feeling like a beached whale after you drink one. Make one tonight and then phone up your favourite honey for a date to the sock hop-- you're practically re-inventing the 1950s after all.

The recipe:

Chocolate Soda

the directions:

In tall glass, combine milk and chocolate syrup, stirring briskly until blended.
Add club soda, pouring gently.
Top with a scoop of ice cream and enjoy!

Yields 1 generous soda.

The ingredients:

¾ c milk (I recommend semi-skimmed/2%)
3 tbsp chocolate syrup or more to taste
½ c club soda
1 scoop ice cream

Under the Wire Cheesecake, or, Quick and Easy Cheesecake

I'm tired of cheesecake. It's never been, like, my favourite dessert (looking at you, chocolate cake with vanilla frosting), but I've always been pretty ok with it. Making one a month is a bit much, though. Especially when they're all plain.

But here we are in June, and it's time for the next installment of The Cheesecake Saga. As I've explained in previous entries, there is nothing that says 'friendship' to me quite like cheesecake. Maybe it's the influence of The Golden Girls, maybe it's the fact that you couldn't eat a whole one by yourself unless you're going through a terrible breakup, and even then it would probably take you a few sittings... maybe it's just the successful marketing campaigns of casual dining chain restaurants like Olive Garden and Red Lobster (which were, unashamedly, my favourite two places to eat as a small child), but regardless of what causes it, cheesecake to me sings of girlfriends, sleepovers, late night chats and long laughs over silly memories and ridiculous stories.

So when I realised it's the last day of the month and I still haven't made my June cheesecake, it was pretty appropriate that I just parted ways with my best friend of the last ten years, Emily. Emily and her fiance were in the UK for work-related reasons, so of course we made some time for fun-related things and explored the Scottish Highlands all weekend together. We stayed in a castle, ate cullen skink and full Scottish breakfasts, drank a lot of whisky and coffee, and explored a lot. But most of all, I got to spend three amazing days with my best friend, less than a month before her wedding. She's on her way back to the US now, so I won't get to share this cheesecake with her, but if she was here, we'd make a gluten-free version, pour ourselves another cup of coffee, and tease each other mercilessly over all the stupid things we've done, stupid boys we've loved, and stupid ideas we've had. Can you tell she's my favourite?

Emily lives in the California Bay Area now, so we're 8 time zones apart, but it doesn't stop us from regular Skype dates and endless email chains. Maybe that makes it even more appropriate that this recipe is from The Stars & Stripes, a magazine published for expat military families living a world away from all of their friends and family.

In fact, the introduction reads:

'And here's one especially for Mrs. R. Fruda of Holiday. It's guaranteed good by Mrs. Howard Black of St. Petersburg, who discovered it published in the Stars and Stripes while she was in Germany. She baked it, saved it, and now it's yours.'

Emily started her own bakery last year (making desserts far more delicious than mine), so the idea of friends sharing recipes is something that will always bring her to my mind. But where I treat cooking like a choose-your-own-adventure novel, substituting ingredients at will, trying things to taste instead of by measurement, and combining recipes when I can't find one that satisfies my whims, Emily believes baking is a science: her cooking experiments follow strict instructions and are carefully calculated, planned, and meticulously recorded so that they can be re-created (or avoided) anytime. I should really take some cues from her.

This cheesecake is already my favourite one from the box, and here are all the reasons why: it doesn't require a springform pan, it doesn't involve ricotta or sour cream or milk, the ingredients don't have to be brought to room temperature, there is no water bath, and it cooks in less than half an hour. None of which have been true with any of the first four Recipe Box cheesecakes I've made.

The verdict:

5 spoons out of five. A toasted graham crust, a filling just lightly sweetened, permission from the recipe to top the cake with cherries, and a perfect, creamy texture without leaving you feeling like you ate a brick of cream cheese; this cheesecake is the easiest and best cheesecake you'll make this year. Make it, bring it to work or share it with your best baking friend and enjoy.

The recipe:

Quick and Easy Cheesecake

the directions:

Preheat the oven to 162C/325F.
Whiz the crackers in the food processor until they are a fine crumb.
Mix crumbs with melted butter, 2 tbsp sugar, and a sprinkle of salt to form a loose graham crust.
Pat this gently into the bottom and up the sides of a pie pan and set aside.
Beat eggs until pale yellow and thick, then set aside.
With the same beater, beat the rest of the ingredients until smooth and uniform, scraping sides frequently.
Add the eggs and beat well until smooth.
Pour over crust and smooth top.
Bake for 20-30 minutes until the middle jiggles only slightly when the pan is nudged.
Let cool and top with pineapple or cherries before serving.

the ingredients:

1 ¼ c digestive biscuit or graham cracker crumbs
2 tbsp melted butter
½ c + 2 tbsp sugar, divided
2 eggs
3 packages cream cheese (I used 540 grams, and it was the perfect amount to fill my standard-size pie pan)
1 tsp lemon juice
½ tsp vanilla
Cherry pie filling or 'Thickened pineapple' for garnish