Lemon Chiffon Pie

A lemn chiffon pie with 2 lemons and a pie server

Today’s Musings:
An undeserved firing, a cheating partner, a false accuser, a friend who never pays back money lent – why is it nearly impossible to let go of the injustices we have endured at the hands of others?  Why do we waste time ruminating on people who don’t deserve another minute’s thought – the liars and the cheats and the backstabbers? We fixate on and revisit these feelings of betrayal because we wholeheartedly believe in the rules of balanced and fair conduct.  When someone deceptively tips the fairness scale in their favor, we want repercussions for the cheaters’ and charlatans’ duplicity.  Once we have recognized their deceit, we desperately attempt to rebalance the fairness equilibrium.  Becoming consumed by our efforts to uncover their motivation, we endeavor to understand the why, feverishly seeking justice in a situation that is intrinsically unjust. Haven’t we all, at some point, been incapable of spitting the betrayal bit from our teeth, even though we know it’s causing us further anguish?

This unrelenting quest for fairness, sadly, puts our own precious life on hold.  Unable to move forward, we spend hours rehashing the details with our friends and therapists, conjuring schemes to rebalance the scales by stooping to the betrayer’s level or questioning if we somehow deserve what happened to us. To step off this hamster wheel, we need to move past our inherent need to comprehend these injustices. Squandering minutes contemplating motives or reliving the injustice merely exacerbates our wounds and is ineffective in moving the scales.  How do we begin to rebalance?


In spite of what you may believe, forgiveness is not proclaiming, “I forgive you because I didn’t warrant being treated any better” or “I am releasing you because it is okay that you did this to me.”  It was NOT okay – it was NEVER okay.  Forgiveness is saying, “I release you because you are incapable of giving anything better, whether through your ignorance, intolerance, mental defect, or circumstance.”

So, how do we unearth forgiveness for the undeserving? By sending that shithead all the love we can muster.  Whoa, I know; it’s not easy.  There’s a Buddhist meditation called Metta meditation (Lovingkindness meditation) that encourages the meditator to first focus on someone they love deeply and meditate on the words, “May you be well, may you be happy, may you be free from suffering.” Next, they focus on someone they feel neutral about – the barista, the dog walker, the person jogging down the street – and repeat the same words. Finally, the meditator choses someone who deserves their anger. They gather up all the bits of love in their heart and send that loving energy towards the undeserving, feeling the words, “May you be well, may you be happy, may you be free from suffering.”  The meditator continues with the practice – days, weeks, months, years – until they can truly muster lovingkindness towards this person.

Once we can find love in our heart for an undeserving asshole, we can find love for anyone and everyone.  It’s a sense of mastery – and then we are free.

I’m still practicing.

**Inspired by Phil Stutz…and Betty Broderick

Today’s Recipe:


  • Servings: 8-10 slices
  • Print

Spring captured in a pie. This light and airy pie doesn’t skimp on tart, mouth-watering, fresh lemon.


  • 1 ½ cups graham cracker crumbs (about 11 graham crackers)
  • 7 Tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
  • ¼ cup cold water
  • 2 ½ teaspoons (1 envelope) unflavored gelatin
  • 1 cup sugar, divided in half
  • 4 large eggs, yolks and whites separated (room temperature)
  • ½ cup fresh lemon juice
  • ½ teaspoon salt
  • 1 Tablespoon lemon zest
  • Freshly whipped sweetened whipped cream


  1. Combine graham cracker crumbs and melted butter. Press along bottom and sides of a 9” pie plate. Set aside.
  2. Pour cold water into a small bowl. Stir in gelatin until fully mixed and let stand while you make the custard.
  3. Meanwhile, whisk ½ cup sugar, yolks, lemon juice, and salt together in a medium saucepan. Cook over medium-low heat, stirring constantly, until it is the consistency of custard, about 10 minutes. Add lemon zest and softened gelatin and stir until fully incorporated. Pour into a large bowl and set aside to cool while you make the meringue.
  4. In a stand mixer, beat egg whites on medium speed until foamy. Gradually add remaining ½ cup sugar, one tablespoon at a time. Increase speed to high and continue beating until firm peaks form. Fold ⅓ of meringue into custard to lighten and then fold in remaining meringue until no large blobs of white meringue remain, but do not knock all the air out.
  5. Spoon filling into crust and refrigerate until firm, at least 2 hours. Garnish with sweetened whipped cream.

Today’s Tips: 
By adding about ⅓ of meringue to the lemon custard first and then adding the remaining, the two textures blend without overly deflating the meringue.

This meringue is uncooked. If salmonella is an issue in your area, use pasteurized egg whites. 


Mom’s Easy No-Bake Strawberry Pie

Strawberry pie with recipe and old poloroids

Today’s Musings:
I left my mother in her home town of LaPorte, IN, safely nestled at the foot of her parents’ graves.  Yes, my heart still aches with loss, but it is tempered by the feeling of “rightness” in our actions of bringing her home, participating in a ceremony of honoring, and closing out her life’s final chapter.

Perhaps this is what is meant by “closure.”

In the airport, waiting for my flight home, I began thinking about ritual and why it’s an important vehicle to help transport us through life.  How can the simple process of taking someone’s ashes to another location, placing them in the ground and saying a few words (or, in this case, singing a song) make the world appear to realign itself?  It felt like I sent forth a giant mantra of “let all be well” to my mom and the earth and all the mysteries of life.

Still, I’m left asking, “why does it work; why is it important?”  Donna Henes says, “Ritual practice is as old as humanity, developing from people’s compelling need to understand and connect with the infinite, archetypal, unexplainable mysteries of life. Rituals offered our ancestors a glimpse of the divine order as well as a sense of belonging to something bigger. It’s a ceremony of sorts which begins with thought, purpose and an identified aim. Also, it’s not passive, but participatory. There is no way to benefit from a ritual by just watching it, or by reading or hearing about it. It must be experienced to be affective, or effective, for that matter.”

Maybe that’s why it works.  It allows us to take a bit of control. We are no longer solely being buffeted by the uncontrollable events around us; we are able to take this small ceremony and manage it, focus our attention to it, set an intention and participate towards its fruition.  I cannot control life and death, but I can control this.

The other ceremony that comes to my mind is one I participated in 25 years ago.  Up to that point, I had struggled with the repercussions of an abusive childhood. I had read books about forgiveness, I had journaled my anger and bitterness in hopes of releasing them, I had made excuses for the abusive behavior and I tried repressing the memories as well.  Nothing seemed to alleviate my pain until I found myself, during a vacation in Sedona, participating in a medicine wheel ceremony.  During that ceremony, I was given the gift of allowing myself to leave one large piece of “baggage” behind within the wheel.  At that spot, in the middle of Boyton Canyon, on the hot dusty ground, I set down my bag of anger, hurt, bitterness and grief  – and I never looked back.  I left my baggage in Sedona, the best luggage I could have ever lost on vacation.  Could I have done it without the medicine wheel, without the burning sage, without the ritual, without the intention? I hadn’t been able to before.

Rituals and ceremonies with honest, sincere intention seem to somehow place our personal, spinning world back on its axis. They are a bit of control in the uncontrollable world.

Today’s Recipe:
In general,  I’m known for multi-step, slightly complicated desserts.  Today, I’m sharing an easy one with you.  For each family-member’s birthday, another ritual, mom would make us our favorite dessert. When I was young,  I always requested this pie.  I remember “Happy Birthday” spelled out in slivered strawberries across the top.  Lucky for me,  my birthday falls around the beginning of strawberry season, ensuring peak flavor.

Mom’s Easy No-Bake Strawberry Pie

  • Servings: One 9” Pie
  • Print

This is an easy, no-bake pie to make in Spring and Summer when strawberries are at their peak of flavor.


  • 1 ½ cups graham cracker crumbs (about 10 graham crackers)
  • 7 Tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
  • 8 oz. mini marshmallows
  • ¼ cup whole or 2% milk
  • 4 cups (about 1 ½ lbs.) cleaned, hulled, and thickly sliced strawberries
  • 2 cups (1 pint) heavy whipping cream


  1. Combine graham cracker crumbs and melted butter. Press along bottom and sides of a 9” pie plate. Set aside.
  2. In a large microwave-safe bowl, melt mini marshmallows and milk in the microwave for approximately 2 minutes, stirring every 30 seconds, until marshmallows are completely melted.
  3. While marshmallow mixture cools slightly, whip heavy cream until stiff peaks form.
  4. Stir sliced strawberries into marshmallow mixture. Fold in whipped cream in four additions. Spoon filling into crust until pie is generously filled. Chill for at least 4 hours before enjoying.

Swedish Apple Pie

Swedish Apple Pie on a blue background with pie cutter

Today’s Musings:
I first visited Mt. St. Helens in 2000, 20 years after the devastating blast in May, 1980.  The landscape didn’t appear substantially changed from the stark images I saw in Life Magazine immediately after the eruption.  Except for the blue sky,  it was as if we had driven into a black and white photo; shades of ash and smoke surrounding us.  Waves of fallen monochromatic grey tree trunks remained scattered across the somber mountainside, reminding me of images I’d seen of the civil war dead.   The area appeared decimated, lifeless.  But once we parked at the visitor’s center and started to stroll along the paths,  signs of life became apparent – dun-colored grasses,  knee-high alder saplings, purple lupine, fuchsia fireweed flowers, all punctuated by a few scurrying squirrels.   Slowly, life was reemerging from the destruction. 

My mother died, her adult children around her, in late August 2010; my former Love, and man who still possesses a chunk of my heart, ended his own life two days later.  Two people torn from my life in the span of 48 hours.  In the weeks and months following these losses,  I numbly went about my routine, elbowing waves of grief into the periphery, feeling as obliterated as St. Helens’ landscape.  I met Jake two and a half months later.  Opening myself up to a new relationship was like the first violet lupines popping their heads above my ash-covered earth.  I was tentatively taking the first steps towards reawakening, acknowledging I’d likely be hurt in the end, but possessing an optimistic soupçon of impetus to try.   

When I arrived at the wine bar for our first date,  the afternoon sun shone directly through the front windows, blinding me and obscuring Jake in shadow.  As I turned around to finally see him, my back to the window,  I felt like the bachelorette on The Dating Game when bachelor #3 rounds the corner and she can’t wipe the tinge of disappointment from her face.  He was shorter than I imagined – about 5’ 9”– and his teeth were in a terrible state, with a prominent chip in the front.  I later learned that was a result of an unfortunate run-in with a fork.  His eyes were a pale sky blue; his complexion ruddy. I noted and approved of his style – Vans, Levi’s and a rockabilly plaid shirt.  I glimpsed a tattoo on his wrist, a sneak peek of the ones I’d discover later. I’m a sucker for a tattoo.  His hair reminded me of Rob Thomas of Matchbox 20.  In fact,  he resembled Rob Thomas – after a bender.  I didn’t fall for him until our second date; I remember pulling up to the Oaxacan restaurant, finding him waiting for me outside and thinking, “Yeah, he’s cute.”  I almost didn’t agree to that second date.  By our third, I was enamored with that adorable, weathered, chipped-tooth face and found myself, sated and lying naked in his arms, tracing the tattoos on his chest with the tip of my finger.

Time heals,  we survive, and eventually poke our heads above life’s greyness, renewed.

Today’s Recipe:
How did I not know about Swedish Apple Pie?  Thank you to my friend, Joan, for turning me on to the easy-to-throw-together “pie.”  Of course,  true to form, I zhuzhed up the recipe a bit. If you over-fill the pie plate, be prepared for a butter pool in the bottom of your oven. 

Swedish Apple Pie

  • Servings: One 9” Pie
  • Print

Apple pie on the bottom, giant cookie crust on top. A winning combination.


  • 3 – 3 ½ large tart apples, peeled, cored, cut in half, and thinly sliced
  • 1 teaspoon lemon zest
  • 2 Tablespoons sugar
  • 1 ½ teaspoon cinnamon
  • 1 cup all-purpose flour
  • ½ cup sugar
  • ½ cup brown sugar
  • ¼ teaspoon salt
  • ¾ cup butter, melted
  • 1 egg, beaten
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla
  • Freshly whipped cream (optional)


  1. Preheat oven to 350° F. Butter a 9” pie plate. Combine apples, zest, 2 Tablespoons sugar, and cinnamon. Arrange in pie plate.
  2. Stir together flour, sugars, and salt. Combine melted butter, egg and vanilla and stir into flour mixture just until combined. Spread batter over the apples.
  3. Bake at 350° F. for 50 minutes until top is fully cooked and crisp. Serve warm or room temperature with freshly whipped cream (optional).

Key Lime Tart

Today’s Musings:

“I can’t.”
“I’ll fall.”
“I’m afraid.”
“I don’t know how.”
“I’m not a jumper.”
“Others can jump further.”
“Who am I to think I can jump?”

“We will steady you.”
“You’re so close!”
“Trust us; We will catch you.”
“You’ll be great at it.”
“Be Brave!”
“We believe in you.”
We’ll jump with you.”

Thank you for requesting baking demos until I said, “yes.”  Thank you for telling me when my words on the page move you. Thank you for giving feedback on my recipes. Thank you for believing I can write a book worth reading.  Thank you for reminding me I’m worthy of love. Thank you, to all my friends, who support, encourage, and push me just a little further.  I’m better for knowing you.   

Today’s Recipe:

Key Lime Tart

  • Servings: One 9-inch tart or six tartlets
  • Print

Mouth-puckering Key lime custard in a shortbread cookie crust garnished with raspberry coulis sauce.


  • 1 ⅓ cups all-purpose flour
  • 5 Tablespoons sugar
  • ½ teaspoon salt
  • 9 Tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
  • Filling
  • 28 oz. sweetened condensed milk
  • ½ cup full-fat Greek yogurt
  • ¾ cup key lime juice
  • 1 ½ Tablespoons grated lime zest
  • Raspberry Coulis (optional)
  • ½ cup sugar
  • 3 Tablespoons water
  • 12 oz. frozen raspberries, thawed
  • 1 Tablespoon raspberry or orange liqueur (optional)


  1. Preheat oven to 350° F. In a medium bowl, combine flour, sugar, salt and melted butter. Pat dough on the bottom and up the sides of a 9” tart pan. Bake about 20 minutes until beginning to brown. Remove from oven and cool 30 minutes.
  2. Meanwhile, in a medium bowl, combine condensed milk, Greek yogurt, lime juice, and lime zest. Stir until combined and pour into crust. Bake in preheated oven for 10-12 minutes, until tiny pinhole bubbles burst on the surface of pie. Do not brown. Chill tart thoroughly before serving. Garnish with raspberry coulis, whipped cream, shaved white chocolate or grated lime zest.
  3. To make coulis, combine sugar and water in a heat-proof liquid measuring cup. Microwave on high power for two minutes and stir to ensure all sugar crystals are dissolved. Combine simple syrup with thawed raspberries in a blender. Blend until smooth. With a rubber spatula, stir and push puree through a fine-mesh strainer to catch the seeds. Add liqueur, if using. Store in the refrigerator up to a week.

Rocky Road Pie

Today’s Musings:

It’s a new year.  It’s time to shove 2020 out the window and welcome a fresh start.  The following handful of posts are a series, written a lifetime ago, that track my journey from a painful breakup with a man I adored, to the shock of discovering the truth behind his mask, to glimpsing the depths of his depravity, and finally acknowledging my own error in blindly trusting him.  This tale ended long ago, but only now am I ready to disclose it – and perhaps help others who find themselves in a similar situation. Thank you to those who shared evidence and convinced me to tell my story.

 Chapter Three

 “You dodged a bullet,” they said.

Lying flat on my back in the dirt, my affection, my commitment, my trust slowly oozing from the crater in my gut, I dodged nothing.  He smiled, looked me in the eye even, as he pulled the trigger.

I could have dodged a bullet – in the early days, when I was left questioning.  I could have walked away then, unharmed and unscathed by knowing him.  I didn’t.  I faced him, unprotected, unafraid – and unarmed. 

The bullet has done its damage, and I convalesce, waiting for the disbelief, sadness and, now, humiliation to abate.  “Don’t poke the wound; let it heal,” I remind myself, yet the damage, both tangible and intangible, festers from new injuries inflicted in succession, even now:

Things I don’t want to know;
Things I must know. 

His aim was true, precise, heartless.  I am gun-shy now; gun-terrified and flinching.  I didn’t dodge a bullet, but I will survive this one. I’m done being his victim.

Today’s Recipe:

This isn’t your kid’s rocky road.  I developed this pie because I wasn’t sure what to do with the remainder of my oh-so-tasty, soft and fluffy homemade marshmallows.  I highly suggest making your own marshmallows for this recipe, if you have the time. The chocolate mousse isn’t overly sweet and, if you replace the 5 tablespoons of water with strong coffee, this becomes a very adult pie, indeed.

Rocky Road Pie

A chocolate-almond crumb crust with a rich chocolate mousse dotted with marshmallows turns rocky road into an adult dessert.


  • 40 chocolate wafer cookies
  • ¼ cup toasted sliced almonds
  • ¼ teaspoon kosher salt
  • ½ cup (one stick) unsalted butter, melted
  • 6 oz. semisweet chocolate, chopped
  • 3 Tablespoons unsalted butter
  • 5 Tablespoons water, divided
  • ½ teaspoon vanilla
  • 3 large eggs, separated
  • ¼ cup plus 3 Tablespoons sugar, divided
  • ¼ teaspoon cream of tartar
  • ½ cup heavy whipping cream
  • 1 ½ cups mini-size marshmallows (I used homemade)
  • Mini-size marshmallows
  • Toasted sliced almonds
  • Chocolate shavings


  1. Preheat oven to 350⁰. In a food processor, pulses chocolate wafers, roasted almonds and salt into crumbs. Add butter and process until clumps form. Press crust along the bottom and up the sides of a pie plate. Bake for 10-12 minutes until set and fragrant. If crust puffs up, push back down with the bottom of a glass.
  2. Combine chocolate, butter and 2 Tablespoons water in a heat proof bowl and melt over a simmering pot of 1-2″ of water. Set aside.
  3. In another heat proof bowl over simmering water, combine egg yolks, remaining 3 Tablespoons water, and 3 Tablespoons sugar. Whisk constantly until thick, 7-9 minutes, remove from heat, and whisk into melted chocolate. Cool to room temperature.
  4. In the bowl of a stand mixer, whisk egg whites until foamy. Add cream of tartar and beat until soft peaks form. Gradually add sugar, one tablespoon at a time, increase speed to high and beat until stiff peaks form. Gently fold ¼ of egg whites into chocolate mixture to lighten, then gently fold in the remaining egg whites.
  5. In the bowl of the stand mixer, whip heavy whipping cream until soft peaks form. Fold whipped cream into the chocolate mixture. Add marshmallows and fill cooled pie crust with chocolate mousse. Decorate with marshmallows, toasted almonds, and chocolate shavings. Chill at least three hours before cutting.