Meringue

I am not a chef, cook, or gifted culinary artist, but I have recently diagnosed myself as a food enthusiast.


A couple of weeks ago I learned that “foodie” is an actual title which can only be achieved. And apparently before one achieves it they must have obtained extensive knowledge on various aspects of food, dining, wines, and terminology. I’m just stabbing in the dark here, but I doubt a foodie would insert the word “crock-pot” in normal food conversation.

You see now why I prefer food enthusiast.

I love reading cook books and it’s not uncommon for me to have my favorite one (Better Homes and Gardens, naturally) laying on the coffee table, or to hide out in the cooking section of bookstores. My favorite channel? That’s right. Food Network.

I regularly try out new recipes and feed the outcome to my husband. I have three basic questions I ask him as he bravely eats:

1. Do you like it?

2. Would you eat it again?

Before I proceed to the third question, I have to tell you something about dear Todd. He’s really, really nice. I’ve only been able to nab him on one food that he absolutely dislikes eating (beans...what is wrong with him?!), and the rest he just eats. “Opinion” is not a concept he grasps...a characteristic that surfaces at non food-related times as well, but I digress. The point is that even if he answers “yes” to the first and second questions, he might still not be sold on the dish. He “likes” most things he eats. Therefore, the third question I ask is:

3. Would you be happy about it?

Once the third question is answered in the affirmative (as it often is, bless his heart) I pronounce the dish a “keeper,” and we eat it again...which is actually quite fortunate. My recipe repertoire at the onset of our marriage was pitiful.

The recipe I offer today is for a very unique little cookie called a meringue. I decided this morning that Meringue would be a lovely name for a little blond headed girl, but as I doubt I will ever mother a blond child (or--perhaps more importantly--convince Todd that Meringue could be a name), I’ve ruled it out as an option.

Anyway.

The recipe looked simple enough; only four ingredients that are all combined and plopped (I’m afraid I really did plop it) on a cookie sheet. Here’s the link to the recipe.

After I added all of my ingredients (egg whites, cream of tartar, strawberry extract, and sugar), the recipe said only to “beat on medium/high until stiff peaks form.” That sounded pretty descriptive, but forty-five minutes later, I had a hot hand mixer, deafened ears, and a pan of little glossy plops (told you). “Beat...until...” is a relative phrase. I’m still not convinced I did it right.

Regardless of the correctness of my strawberry meringues, they really are a tasty, low-cal (my favorite!) little pillow of joy. The outside is like a delicate shell while the inside is reminiscent of something between cotton candy and marshmallows. It just kind of melts in your mouth.

My advice: add a little more sugar than the recipe says. I’ve heard that the general ratio for meringue is 1/4 cup of sugar per egg white. And when it says to add the sugar in small amounts, it means it. This is a corner you don’t want to cut, as it will mean either a) a longer mixing process or b) gritting meringue, for those of us who lack the patience. A free standing mixer is the best option. That way you’re not glued to the counter for the better part of an hour and, as free standing mixers are usually much quieter than hand mixers, you won’t suffer from ringing ears.

Here’s a look at the finished product. The recipe recommends that you put the meringue in a plastic or pastry bag and then squirt it decoratively onto the parchment, but it admits that you can simply spoon (aka plop) it on as well. :)