That Was a Flop!

I enjoy trying new recipes in the kitchen (as long as I don’t have to clean up the mess). I especially enjoy baking. Since Sunday was Father’s Day, I decided to try my hand at a lemon meringue pie on Saturday. Lemon pies have long been Pop’s favorite dessert — and since it would just be me and the Geriatrics together on Sunday, this was the perfect opportunity to try out a new recipe.

Saturday morning began with squeezing LOTS of lemons in order to use fresh lemon juice in the curd. As Mom and I began to beat the sugar and eggs together, it became obvious that this recipe was going to create a massive batch of curd. This was our first attempt at making a fresh curd, so we really didn’t know what to expect. How hard could it be to cook the mixture until it became thick, right? The recipe said the mixture would thicken after 4-5 minutes of heating. By that point, the concoction had slightly thickened, but I feared it wasn’t enough. Still, you have to trust the recipe the first time, right?

As we poured the “curd” into the pie shell, it became clear that it wouldn’t set. Then we convinced ourselves that baking the pie in the oven for 15 minutes (as directed by the recipe) would solve the problem of the texture. Fifteen minutes later, our pie had a golden brown top — not at all what I expected for a lemon meringue pie — that looked as though an ocean was rolling just beneath the surface. There was nothing that could be done now but to continue following the recipe and allow the pie to set in the fridge overnight.

On Sunday morning, Mom and I moved to the meringue itself. I’ve made traditional meringues many times, so I wasn’t overly worried about this part of the process. The difference, however, came in the addition of a sugar syrup that would be cooked on the stove before it got added to the egg whites. Nothing too difficult here. Combine water and sugar, insert candy thermometer, and cook to soft ball stage. This weekend, we used a new thermometer. I’m still not sure what happened to this part of the process. The bottom of the thermometer was in the liquid, but did not touch the bottom of the pan. The heat was set to medium. The temperature barely registered 200 degrees. The mess in the bottom of the pan had passed soft ball and moved to hard cracked and burned. I attempted to pour any of the sugar mixture into the meringue, but there was nothing flowing from the pot. My lemon meringue pie would now be served as a lemon pie.

After Father’s Day lunch, it was time to cut into my science experiment. The first cut suggested a fate far worse than it actually was. Lemon juice began to flow on top of the pie. I was certain that no part of the pie had managed to set. Yes, there was a substantial amount of liquid in the pie plate after I removed the first slice, but it wasn’t a pool. And somehow the crust had managed to avoid becoming soggy! The taste was a different story. Tart does not sufficiently describe this lemon pie. “Pucker-inducing Face Slap” might be a better description! Needless to say, the experiment was put out of its misery and immediately made its way to the trash. Luckily, the rest of the meal had been a tremendous success!

Will this be my last attempt at a lemon meringue pie? Not on your life! I hate the feeling of being defeated in any endeavor. I’m just taking a little time to let my taste buds recover from the lemony shock before I begin searching for a new recipe that will hopefully lead to a more successful result.

The Whipping Winds of West Texas

Happy 2021, everyone! I took a much needed break from everything for the past few weeks — including my blogging. Now that I am back in Texas to begin another semester of teaching, it is time to resume my writing. I have a plan to be more consistent in my posts, but we all know how “the best laid plans” sometimes turn out. Anyway, I thought I would kick things off by sharing a funny moment from my life that happened this week.

On Wednesday afternoon, I made my way to my bank. I don’t visit the branch very often because I handle most of my banking electronically. Recently, the banking app on my phone has been possessed and won’t let me in. (That’s an entirely different story.) I had received a gift for Christmas that I needed to deposit as well as the December pay check from my church gig. The gift check was safely tucked away in my wallet. I removed the church’s large check from the envelope, detached the stub, put on my mask, and prepared to get out of my car and go inside.

Winter in West Texas can change on a dime. It had been chilly most of the day, so I was wearing my winter coat. The wind had blown earlier that morning, but nothing too outrageous. I had even noticed on my drive to the bank that the light breeze that was blowing at the moment was gently swaying the trees and looked rather refreshing.

All of that changed in a moment. As I got out of the car, a HUGE gust of wind came out of nowhere. The car door was forced shut when I noticed something flutter by my face. That’s when I looked at my hand and saw that I was holding a tattered corner of the check — and nothing more! The parking lot was fairly empty, but I didn’t see the check anywhere. I looked under the car, under the wipers, and in the door itself. No check! That’s when I started to look around the edges of the bank, in the shrubs, anywhere that I thought the paper might have gotten caught. I’m sure the employees inside thought I was casing out the joint.

I went inside to deposit the Christmas gift that was in my wallet. (Thankfully, it was the larger of the two checks and made it safely into my account!) The teller had noticed me outside and asked what I was looking for. As I told her the story, she just shook her head and told me that other customers had shared similar accounts in the days prior. So somewhere in Plainview, it appears that there are a few checks floating around that have been ripped from unsuspecting hands.

Looking back on it now — it is humorous. In the moment….not so much! I dreaded telling the church staff that the check would not be clearing their account any time soon. As I shared the story, they laughed with me. Graciously, the check will be re-issued (which I did not expect at all and am most appreciative about).

From now on, I’ll keep my eyes peeled for unexpected gusts of winds and make sure that I have a firm grasp on those things that are of greatest value! Hopefully, I’m done with unexpected gusts overturning my apple cart for a while. (I’m not sure that we’re still talking about a lost check anymore….) It’s time for some calmer weather here on the “Plains of Texas.”

~Kennith

Things That Never Go Away

We all have things in our past we would like to forget. Missteps. Poor choices. Fashion blunders. If you’re like me, you also have friends to make sure that your past never truly goes away.

While at Pepperdine, I was beginning to dress like a young professional. But I didn’t want to fall into the boring realm of only wearing white and blue oxfords. I like wearing vivid colors. They make me happy…..and I am really a happy guy!

On a certain shopping trip — I honestly don’t remember the details — I decided to be a little more adventurous than normal and bought a “dusty rose” shirt. I must place that term in quotation marks because my housemates quickly informed me the color was more appropriately described as “pink.” My conservative Southern roots at the time could not come to grips with the idea that a man could wear pink and maintain his manhood. I tried passing it off as “peach” — but that didn’t work since it hung near another shirt in my wardrobe that could only be described as the color of the fuzzy Georgia fruit. So…the harassment began because of my pink shirt.

It has been many years since that questionable shirt has hung in my closet — although I am certain you could find other offending items there now. The harassment never ends. Like clockwork, my college friend will frequently make mention of THE shirt in our conversations. I still attempt to educate her on the fine line that exists between “rose” and “pink.” My efforts fall on deaf ears and I find myself once again reliving the misguided mistake of my youth that seems to be destined to follow me for the rest of my life.

And the taunting reminds me that I am loved…and I wouldn’t have it any other way!

 

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