Yesterday I read an article in the Wall Street Journal about how to make the perfect baked meringue, which the author assured me was both simple and effective. I was intrigued, but extremely skeptical.
Let me back up. These days I'm a reasonably accomplished cook. Although I'm far from an expert, I would estimate that only 5% of my attempted dishes end in failure. That is a significant accomplishment, given that I never really learned how to cook when I was young (I was raised on a steady diet of Hot Pockets).
In fact, in my 20s I attempted a lot of new dishes, and many - maybe most - of them were failures. Put it this way: I had to beg a friend to teach me how to make a grilled cheese sandwich.
One of these most spectacular failures was a lemon meringue pie. The pie crust didn't bake, the filling didn't set, and the meringue didn't crisp up. Overnight in the fridge the pie crust soaked up a lot of liquid from the filling, and floated up towards the top. The lemon filling slid underneath. The meringue formed a slimy coating.
But I, ever the starry-eyed optimist, fed it to my friend C anyway. She, being a good sport and pretty much the best friend ever, tried her hardest to eat it. But I quickly had to admit defeat, and she set down her slice (it was more of a plop than a slice) with relief.
So yes. I was skeptical. So skeptical that I didn't even make any plans for the filling. I figured I would try making the meringue, fail at it, and then go on with my life.
First I separated four eggs, let the egg whites come up to room temperature, and fixed myself an egg yolk omelet (which was gross, if thrifty). Next I threw the egg whites, pinch of salt, and cream of tartar into my blender. Because I don't have a mixer, and because the blender's own instructions SAY THAT IT CAN DO THIS. Whip eggs into stiff peaks. THE INSTRUCTION BOOKLET SAYS SO.
Yeah, so… guess how that turned out. Luckily I was able to kind of cobble it all back together, so I didn't completely ruin my blender. But as for the meringue, I had to finish whipping it by hand, with a whisk. I queued up an episode of Archer on Hulu and went to it. I found it worked best to roll the whisk's handles back and forth between my hands, like a Boy Scout trying to start a fire.
I also didn't have any parchment paper, so I used a few sheets of printer paper instead. Paper's paper, amirite?
But despite all these setbacks, five hours later I had an absolutely gorgeous baked meringue. IT LOOKED JUST LIKE THE PICTURE.
I rummaged through my cupboards and finally decided to make a simple chocolate sauce by melting chocolate chips with a bit of butter in the microwave, then stirring in some sweetened condensed milk. I poured this over the meringue and discovered that I had essentially reinvented the Violet Crumble.
AND IT WAS GOOD.
So to sum up, baked meringue: A++++++ WOULD BAKE AGAIN. I mean, after I buy an eggbeater, obviously.
Let me back up. These days I'm a reasonably accomplished cook. Although I'm far from an expert, I would estimate that only 5% of my attempted dishes end in failure. That is a significant accomplishment, given that I never really learned how to cook when I was young (I was raised on a steady diet of Hot Pockets).
In fact, in my 20s I attempted a lot of new dishes, and many - maybe most - of them were failures. Put it this way: I had to beg a friend to teach me how to make a grilled cheese sandwich.
One of these most spectacular failures was a lemon meringue pie. The pie crust didn't bake, the filling didn't set, and the meringue didn't crisp up. Overnight in the fridge the pie crust soaked up a lot of liquid from the filling, and floated up towards the top. The lemon filling slid underneath. The meringue formed a slimy coating.
But I, ever the starry-eyed optimist, fed it to my friend C anyway. She, being a good sport and pretty much the best friend ever, tried her hardest to eat it. But I quickly had to admit defeat, and she set down her slice (it was more of a plop than a slice) with relief.
So yes. I was skeptical. So skeptical that I didn't even make any plans for the filling. I figured I would try making the meringue, fail at it, and then go on with my life.
First I separated four eggs, let the egg whites come up to room temperature, and fixed myself an egg yolk omelet (which was gross, if thrifty). Next I threw the egg whites, pinch of salt, and cream of tartar into my blender. Because I don't have a mixer, and because the blender's own instructions SAY THAT IT CAN DO THIS. Whip eggs into stiff peaks. THE INSTRUCTION BOOKLET SAYS SO.
Yeah, so… guess how that turned out. Luckily I was able to kind of cobble it all back together, so I didn't completely ruin my blender. But as for the meringue, I had to finish whipping it by hand, with a whisk. I queued up an episode of Archer on Hulu and went to it. I found it worked best to roll the whisk's handles back and forth between my hands, like a Boy Scout trying to start a fire.
I also didn't have any parchment paper, so I used a few sheets of printer paper instead. Paper's paper, amirite?
But despite all these setbacks, five hours later I had an absolutely gorgeous baked meringue. IT LOOKED JUST LIKE THE PICTURE.
I rummaged through my cupboards and finally decided to make a simple chocolate sauce by melting chocolate chips with a bit of butter in the microwave, then stirring in some sweetened condensed milk. I poured this over the meringue and discovered that I had essentially reinvented the Violet Crumble.
AND IT WAS GOOD.
So to sum up, baked meringue: A++++++ WOULD BAKE AGAIN. I mean, after I buy an eggbeater, obviously.