Welcome to issue #3 of Susanality. Today’s newsletter is all about lemon meringue as a state of mind.
But first, a little business to attend to. Just after I started writing this newsletter, I was approached by Substack about starting a paid newsletter. What is Substack you ask? It is a platform that helps writers and creators get paid for the work they do. And it can help you develop direct relationships with writers you love — like me! I spent twelve years as a magazine editor at Martha Stewart Living, but writing this newsletter is the first time I have freedom to write about what I want without the constraints of working for a big publication. So, no more editorial We; this is going to be editorial Me. You can be a big part of this by telling Me what You like, what You want more of, want less of. More on that later.
So much has changed this year. I am doing less of the work I used to do, less being a food stylist, less developing recipes for major print publications (which continue to dwindle.). As soon as I started writing this newsletter, a dormant part of me woke up. Somehow this act of writing directly to You, Dear Reader, has helped me find my true voice. I remembered how much I liked to write long letters to friends and lovers. I realized how much I missed this form of communication.
I am inviting you to support me in this effort by paying for a subscription to Susanality. Though the weekly newsletter will always be free, soon, I will be adding bonus recipes, Q & A’s, product recommendations, maybe video or audio features, and other fun stuff. Those you will only get with a paid subscription. Growing this paid version of Susanality will enable me to devote more time to it and to bring you fresh content on a regular basis.
Let’s get back to the food. As I was considering what recipe to share this week, I got to thinking about where my love of lemon meringue pie came from. I started dredging up some old memories, which also sent me down an internet rabbit hole. When I was nine or ten years old, my family and I would travel from suburban Philadelphia to Litchfield County, CT, where my older sister was going to boarding school. I didn’t relish these trips, because they were kind of weird and uncomfortable. There was a highlight though, which was stopping at a little diner in Woodbury called Phillip’s where I remember having the best lemon meringue pie I’d ever tasted. I found myself looking forward to these visits because I knew I was going to be able to taste that pie again. I remember so many details about this diner. I remember the gritty feeling of the tiles under my shoes as we walked past the gleaming pie case, before settling into a booth. I recall my mother’s regular order: a Western omelet. Apparently, that was something else they did well at Phillip’s.
After a little sleuthing, I learned that Phillip’s was a family business that had expanded over many years, eventually closing all locations. The one in Woodbury was on the way to my sister’s school; that was the original vintage diner that I remembered. I also learned that they were indeed renowned for their homemade pies, and even had a location that sold only pies. The owner himself baked every pie. The building, a classic dining-car style diner, is now in a diner museum (!) in Ohio, which makes me happy.
All this reminiscing made me realize very clearly that cooking is almost always about trying to recreate an old memory or trying to create a new one. This recipe does both. The reason I included this recipe in my book, was because of my true love for lemon meringue pie. But I made it into something new, too. These lemon bars require less commitment to eat than a whole slice of pie. Cut them small — they’re rich! The ratio of filling to topping is just where I want it to be. The meringue is super creamy and pretty stable. These keep quite well for a few days in the fridge, because it’s Swiss meringue — don’t worry about what that means, follow the recipe and you’ll find out. The taste has a slightly bitter edge from the whole lemon (yup, skin and all) that you throw in a blender to whizz up like a smoothie along with the other filling ingredients. This time I went a little light on the sugar for the filling, just to see what would happen, and it was fine! I used Carr’s whole wheat crackers instead of graham crackers for the crust and it was fine! My Meyer lemon was huge, and it was still fine!
I hope you’ll try the recipe, and I hope you’ll enjoy it. Let me know what you think in the comments!
WHOLE MEYER LEMON MERINGUE BARS
click here for a printable version
MAKES 12 TO 16
As a kid, and still, my favorite pie always has been and always will be, lemon meringue. This easy little bar uses a whole lemon and all the yolks and whites, which makes it pretty near perfect for me (or anyone else who likes lemons). Because you will be using the yolks first and the whites either hours or a day or two later, make sure you separate them carefully, store the whites in an ultra-clean glass or metal bowl or jar, and refrigerate until needed. I find the flavor is best using a whole Meyer lemon, which has a milder and thinner rind, with a little regular lemon juice to amp up the acidity.
FOR THE CRUST:
9 whole graham crackers (1 package), broken into pieces (or 1 1⁄2 cups crumbs)
1⁄4 cup sugar
Large pinch of salt
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
FOR THE FILLING:
1 whole (preferably organic) Meyer lemon, scrubbed
Juice of 1⁄2 regular lemon (1 tablespoon)
4 egg yolks
1⁄2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted and cooled
1 cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Pinch of salt
FOR THE MERINGUE TOPPING:
4 large egg whites
1 cup sugar
1⁄2 teaspoon vanilla extract
Pinch of salt
1 Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line an 8 by 8-inch baking pan with two pieces of parchment trimmed to fit, going in both directions, with some extra hanging over for easy removal of the bars later.
2 To make the crust: Place the graham crackers, sugar, and salt in bowl of food processor and process until fine crumbs form. Add the melted butter and pulse until well blended. It should look and feel like wet sand. Transfer to the prepared pan and mix it up with your hands to make sure the butter is well distributed. Press into the pan, going up the sides a bit, and bake for 10 minutes, or until just golden. Let cool while you make the filling.
3 To make the filling: Trim the stem end of the whole lemon and cut it into 8 pieces. Remove the seeds. Add to a blender jar (preferably of a high speed blender) along with the lemon juice, egg yolks, butter, sugar, vanilla, and salt and blend until very smooth. Pour over the crust (it’s OK if it’s still warm) and bake for 30 minutes, or until it is bubbling and browning around the edges. It won’t look at all set, but it will set up as it cools. Place on a cooling rack. After about 10 minutes, run a small, sharp knife around the edges. Cool completely, then chill until cold. When completely chilled, carefully remove the parchment and, using a spatula, transfer to a small baking sheet (you can do this just before adding the topping).
4 Up to a few hours before serving, make the topping: Combine the egg whites, sugar, vanilla, and salt in the metal bowl of a stand mixer (or just use a metal bowl if using a hand mixer) and set over a pan of simmering water. Keep the mixture moving hand-holding the whisk attachment until the sugar is completely melted and it’s hot to the touch, 1 to 2 minutes. Transfer to a stand mixer and beat on high speed until glossy and very stiff, 2 to 3 minutes. Transfer to the top of the lemon bars, smooth out, and use a large serving fork to create a pattern in the meringue.
5 When you’re ready to finish, preheat the broiler and position a rack in upper third of oven.
6 Place under the broiler briefly, watching carefully (or, alternatively, use a kitchen torch), to brown the meringue. Refrigerate until ready to serve. Cut into 12 to 16 squares, depending on how large you want them.
These are so good Susan - and really not fussy to put together! A favourite in our house for sure. Love this newsletter - I will sign up for paid subscription soon xx
Loved this recipe! Bars were delicious. But can I make a plea for weight measures. Graham crackers are unobtainable in New Zealand, so I’m subbing in digestive biscuits. I found it awkward to keep making crumbs until I had 1 1/2 cups. If I could have weighed out the quantity of biscuits, it would have been a bit easier. Cheers from New Zealand, Karen Brown