Marshmallow Lime Chiffon Pie

If you live Stateside, then today is Pi Day (3/14). But over here in the UK, the date is written 14/3, so it's not really a holiday that anyone here celebrates.

Never to be foiled by being in a country that doesn't celebrate the same holidays as I want to (and never one to miss an opportunity for pie!) here's a double-whammy holiday recipe for you: it's a pie for Pi Day but it's also green for St. Patrick's Day later this week!* And it's also terrible.

Oh, sorry-- did that come as a surprise to you? Maybe you didn't read the title, which includes both marshmallow and lime. Or perhaps you ignored that photo up there. Or maybe you didn't scroll straight through to the ingredients like I always do to see that this recipe includes lime jello, egg yolks, and marshmallows, and also that it is a nearly-glowing shade of green.

Anyway, I tried to keep an open mind about this recipe, I really did. It's been at least a decade since I had Jello, and even longer since I've had lime Jello, so I was hoping maybe it wasn't as bad as I was thinking it would be. From the second I opened the packet of Jello powder, the entire kitchen smelled like Pine-Sol, and it was hard to stay optimistic after that. But still I persevered. I dissolved the Jello in water, set it aside, and then scrambled some egg yolks. The instructions say to heat the egg yolks slowly with sugar and lemon juice, but, not wanting to scramble the egg yolks by heating them too quickly, I turned the heat as low as it would go so I'd keep a nice smooth custard.

But I didn't count on what happened when I added the lemon juice: it curdled the egg yolks instantly. No matter how much I heated them (or didn't heat them), the egg yolks were curdled, lumpy, and not going to come back together. So I strained out the curdled bits and tried to proceed. But then trying to stir the custard mixture into the still-warm Jello also didn't work (the egg mix floated on top), and then adding whipped egg whites just made the entire thing frothy. Plus, I live in a country with no mini marshmallows, so I had to snip up full-sized ones, which didn't dissolve and took up way too much space in my pie tin. What I'm saying here is this: this is a terrible recipe and you shouldn't make it. Unless you really like lime Jello (or marshmallows), in which case you should just pour some Jello into a pie crust, let it set, and then top it with marshmallows, because this is just not worth it.

*Technically, Scots don't celebrate St. Patrick's Day either... but since the holiday has its origins in the British Isles, I'm counting it. Though I promise a better St. Patrick's Day recipe later this week, so stay tuned! 

The verdict:

0 spoons out of five. I reserve the zero spoons ratings for things that legitimately didn't work, and, based on the picture that accompanies this recipe, which shows a tall, fluffy, pale green concoction with the marshmallows sunken into a single layer at the bottom... well, in comparison, this didn't work.

one year ago: French pudding (another disaster!)

The recipe:

Marshmallow Lime Chiffon Pie

the directions:

Dissolve gelatin in boiling water and set aside.
Combine egg yolks, 1/3 c sugar, lemon juice, and salt.
Stir over very low heat until slightly thickened (this will take awhile).
Remove from heat and blend in gelatin, stirring well.
Chill until slightly thick, meanwhile, beat egg whites until they form soft peaks.
Beat remaining 1/3 c sugar into whites, then fold into gelatin mixture.
Add marshmallows and stir well, then pour into pre-baked pie crust.
Top with shredded coconut and chill until firm, then serve... or don't.

the ingredients:

3 oz lime gelatin (this is one standard-sized US box)
1 c boiling water
2 eggs, separated
2/3 c sugar, divided
¼ c lemon juice
¼ tsp salt
2 c mini marshmallows or regular marshmallows, snipped into small pieces
1 prepared pie crust
½ c shredded coconut

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

Lime-Glazed Pork Chops

Pork chops are the stupidest food. I challenge you to come up with a stupider food, truly. You would think a pineapple would be stupider, on account of how dumb they look, but they're not. Only a pork chop is that stupid. And I'd be willing to bet even Eleanor would agree with me (especially based on how few pork recipes I've found in the box so far.

Here are all the reasons pork chops are stupid:

1. You have to cook them until they have the texture of a shoe in order for them to be safe to eat.

2. They taste like leather (see above).

3. They're so thick and so dense that, no matter what you marinate them in, they're never going to soak up the flavour the way a steak or fish does.

4. Also, somehow the awfulness of pork chops is magnified because of how good all the other cuts of pork are. I mean, bacon and lardons come from the same animal! Why would you bother with a pork chop when you could have those?!

When Judson and I had been dating about a year and had just started to learn how to cook together, I moved into an awesome apartment in an old schoolhouse. But when I moved in, the studio I had paid for wasn't ready and so I had to live in a giant unit twice the size of the one I was supposed to be in. Because the unit was so much bigger than I had anticipated, I had no furniture for it except my bed, so the living room was just a giant empty space with hardwood floors and floor-to-ceiling antique windows. It was basically a dance studio and I got to live there for three months at an unreasonably cheap rate until my smaller unit was ready.

Anyway, my first week there, Judson and I decided we'd make ourselves some pork chops. It was about this time of year, and Judson had just learned to cook and was feeling ambitious. So we bought a butternut squash, some pork chops, and some plums and kumquats to cook with the chops. I, however, had not yet unpacked my kitchen, so we had to cook the chops in a disposable pie tin, and halfway through the cooking process, Judson jabbed a hole in the dish with a sharp knife, and we leaked meat drippings all over my fresh clean oven. Unfortunately, we had no idea what we were doing, and it somehow took us over two hours to cook the meal. When it was finally finished (around 11pm on a weeknight), we realised that I had nowhere for us to sit to eat, and so we sat on the floor of my living room, criss-cross applesauce, leaning against the bare walls, drinking cheap beer and eating too-done pork chops off of our laps. That may be the best memory of pork chops I have, and it's not even a great one.

Nonetheless, I find myself with pork chop recipes and a husband who loves nothing better than pig. Luckily, this one involved lime peel, cloves, and grated lime zest, so I thought maybe those ingredients would overcome #1-4 above. Alas, I was wrong.

Maybe it's the lack of a grill (though I feel like any recipe that can't be tweaked to account for the lack of such a rudimentary cooking implement isn't worth it anyway), but we failed at this recipe miserably. I'll say this: it was easy, and cooking these made our entire house smell amazing for an entire day. But the sauce burned in the pan, and even though the chops weren't burned, they still tasted like the burned sauce. Plus, the chops were tough and the flavour didn't really soak beyond the exterior of the meat. I recognise that making these with a grill would keep the sauce from burning, but it wouldn't fix the toughness. Clearly, though, not everyone shares my opinion, so if you love pork chops and own a grill, then this recipe might be right up your alley. And, like I said, your house will smell like a Hawaiian paradise while you're cooking these.

The verdict:

2 spoons out of five. We managed to eat the ones we made, but only because there was nothing else in the house and we've already survived worse in my unending quest to tweak impossible recipes into possible ones in my own kitchen.

The recipe:

Lime-Glazed Pork Chops

the directions:

Preheat oven to 176C/350F.
Mix together all ingredients except pork chops, whisking well to blend.
Baste the chops, then place them in a searing hot pan for 5 minutes on each side.
Baste again, then move them to the oven for another 10 minutes.
Chops are done when there is no pink in the middle.

the ingredients:

1/3 c dark corn syrup (or 1:1 black treacle and golden syrup if you live over here)
1/3 c lime juice from 2-3 limes
1 tbsp soy sauce
1 tsp lime zest, grated
¼ tsp ground cloves
2-4 1-inch thick pork chops