Flavors of Summer
The long spell of hot weather that was hovering over the Pacific Northwest has broken now. The skies are bright and brushed with wispy clouds and the morning air feels cool against my skin. That cooler air beckons me back into the kitchen. Still the heat is simmering in my mind as I stir my kitchen memories on a quiet Monday morning.
When I was a child something was always happening in the kitchen, no matter the ambient temperature. Even on the hottest summer days there was food to prepare and people to be fed. Fried chicken takes a skillet of hot grease to transform it into crisp tender mouthfuls of southern perfection. Corn on the cob takes a kettle of boiling water to bring out its bright color and juicy sweetness. Even summer salads made with pasta or potatoes must be prepared on the stove top.
Many a dreamy summer dessert that is regarded as “cool” or “tart” also spends some time in a hot oven. Think of Baked Alaska, or the mountains of foam piled invitingly high on top of a Lemon Meringue Pie. Even these refreshing desserts need some heat to set those golden peaks. The alchemy of the kitchen is almost always hot work! To delight and nourish family and friends, someone has to do it. When I was a girl that someone was Aunt Hen.
Kitchen Alchemy
Of course there are dishes that can both feed a family and avoid the heat. These days if you can’t stand the heat there is no shame in getting out of the kitchen. Times have definitely changed.
Back when I was a girl those options were fewer. Produce from the garden needed to be cooked or preserved. Having grown up on a farm during the depression, and ever thankful for its abundant produce, Aunt Hen was reluctant to let any food go to waste. What’s more, relying on what are now common alternatives to cooking an evening meal were then thought to reflect a lazy character or a lack of thrift. Besides packaged foods and deli selections were pricier than home cooked, and take-out was harder to come by.
I think my aunt considered those options beneath her dignity for much of her life. My uncle worked hard and when he was alive Aunt Hen saw it as her responsibility to feed him well. To her that meant preparing hot home cooked meals, regardless of the season. She took pride in her skills in the kitchen and the pleasure others took in the food she prepared.
Later in life she had my brother, my dad and I to feed. Despite those changes in circumstances, she still took her role as the family cook seriously. Even after my brother and I moved away from home, summer visits to Aunt Hen’s often found her standing in her fragrant, steamy kitchen. There she would be stirring something over the hot stove, sweat rising on her brow as a box fan at the periphery of the room blew a scant breeze her way.
Avoiding Tears
On one hot summer morning she offered to make a pie for me to take to my grandfather’s house later that day. As she cooked she carefully showed me how she made a meringue topped pie. We cooked the filling and smoothed it into the waiting pie shell. Then we beat the egg whites until frothy and followed one of her favorite recipes to create an impressive meringue that she confidently told me, “Would Not Weep!”
Back then, I wasn’t even aware that meringue could tend toward weeping. Pies were not my favorite dessert and I didn’t give much thought to their personal problems, to what made a pie perfect or what caused it to be a disaster.
Now I understand that weeping meringue is an age-old problem. No one likes sticky beads forming on top of their pie, or a damp sticky layer between pie filling and topping, especially after making the effort to create something special. No, weeping meringue can be a real challenge to bakers, especially when it is humid. And believe me, there are few places more humid than Aunt Hen’s kitchen, near the banks of the Ohio River, on a summer’s day.
While weeping meringue is a real problem, Aunt Hen had a solution. She had discovered a No-Weep Meringue and she loved to share the recipe well into her eighties. Even after she had moved to a nursing home, Aunt Hen would call me and ask me to look up the recipe for her. She would direct me to her cookbooks and have me pull out the blue one. With my heart melting in my chest, I would lovingly open her old cookbook and read to her the carefully handwritten recipe that she eagerly wanted to share with a new friend:
From page 13 of Aunt Hen’s “Favorite Recipes” (the blue volume)
A Recipe Aunt Hen loved to share.
Ingredients
Directions
- Place cornstarch, sugar and water in a small saucepan. Cook over medium low heat until clear. Set aside.
- Beat egg whites until foamy and beginning to peak. Add cooled cornstarch mixture.
- Continue beating the egg whites while gradually adding 6 Tablespoons of sugar. Beat until very creamy.
- Pile meringue on pie spreading it to touch the edge of the crust all around.
- Bake 30 minutes at 325 degrees, or until the top is kissed with a golden brown color.
- Serve with confidence and enjoy!
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