So, I took the bar. And yes, it is as stressful, terrifying and fraught with uncertainty as everyone says. But as difficult? I think that completely depends on how well you’ve prepared yourself. For those who didn’t start studying until 3 weeks beforehand? Probably a lot harder than for those who started the day of graduation and went for a grueling 2 months on a 6-day-a-week, 12-hours-a-day schedule.
That would be me.
Although, to be honest, I had nothing better to do with my time. I’m not sure what that says about me, and we won’t go there today. Or ever.
But I’m pretty sure I’m in a better place than the girl who had a mental-and very vocal-breakdown in the middle of the exam, or the guy who pissed his pants rather than take the 5 minutes to go to the bathroom.
All that aside, the past three weeks have been a whirlwind:
- Moved from St. Petersburg to Fort Myers for a job at a firm in Bonita Springs
- Adopted two new kittens (still pondering whether that was a mistake…I kid. I love them despite all of the cloth-related casualties and one collapsed shelving unit)
- Punched in the face with ALL THE CASES
- Have no idea what I’m doing
Aside from all that, my co-workers are all the most awesome people ever. All of them. There’s not one who is in the category, “He/she just needs time to warm up.” You know those people, where it’s 75/25 they’ll actually interact with you on a more than the-only-reason-I’m-speaking-to-you-is-because-you’re-in-the-way-of-the-coffee-pot? Well, there’s no one like that here. I definitely hit the jack-pot of antiassholes-which was a very real fear of mine going into such a big firm. Also, there’s a cappuccino machine in the break room.
And the new place? It’s awesome. Despite being in a gated community, the likes of which I never thought I’d be living in. I mean really. Who endeavors to live in a community with a gate? Do you need the extra protection from the 55+ riffraff in the area? It’s like a house club. A club for people who live in a house with a gate. I can feel the comradery. But aside from the “I’m better than you because I live in a neighborhood where all of the houses and landscaping look the same” attitude, the actual house is really pretty and on a la-…large pond. But the pond has alligators, so it’s almost a lake.
What’s also great? I’m an hour out from our place in Boca Grande. I say “our” like I made any contribution to purchasing that house. I didn’t. I’m just shamelessly benefitting from the monetary success of my parents. I’ve promised to buy them sports cars once I have money.
In the meantime, Ryan and I are enjoying our impromptu “dining room.” Read: a futon and an end table-both donated from Ryan’s very gracious parents.
But back to the beach house, and as such the topic of today’s post: Key Lime Motherf**king Pie.
Originally, the recipe contained 4 egg yolks, 1 14-ounce can of sweetened condensed milk and 2/3 cup Key lime juice. The recipe originated in the Keys (duh) by one “Aunt Sally” who, lacking proper refrigeration and in need of (1) something sweet and (2) something to do with all those damn Key limes, birthed this pie. It is traditionally “uncooked”, per se. There’s no oven involved, but there is cookage. Much like ceviche, the acid in the very acidic Key limes cooks the raw eggs and helps congeal the sweetened condensed milk to make a firm, yet custardy-silky pie. You know what I’m talking about. Everyone’s had Key lime pie.
Or so I thought.
Enter Cindy, a New Yorker who’d never. Had. Key lime. Pie. What in the actual F**k?
I mean…I knew, intellectually, these people existed. But I’d never met one.
Anyway, I changed the original recipe up a bit. I found that 4 egg yolks made it a bit too creamy and prevented the pie from properly firming up. I mean, if you wanted Key lime pudding, this is the recipe for you. I wanted a pie that could stand on its own and be structurally sound enough for the amount of whipped cream I intended to assault it with. So I added egg whites. I used to know why the addition of egg whites contributed to firmness, but have since forgotten. It has something to do with the higher amount of protein in the white and its reaction with acid.
For the Key lime juice, you have to squeeze an entire bag of key limes. With your hands. After having deliberately given yourself papercuts.
I may be both vindictive and bias.
But you could also just get this:
1 14-oz. can Sweetened condensed milk
1/2 cup Key lime juice
1 Graham cracker crust (or if you want to be fancy make your own
1. In a large bowl, add the sweetened condensed milk, eggs, and egg yolk and whisk until thoroughly combined
2. Add the Key lime juice and whisk until thoroughly combined (I could have taken the trouble to go to theasaurus.com for a more varied series of words, but I didn’t because you’re doing the same thing and I didn’t feel like playing into your insatiable need for a rich and diversified written masterpiece. It’s a recipe. Deal with it.)
4. Adulterate with copious amounts of whipped cream.
*Fun fact: in the 1800’s, Sally and her ilk used meringue because they didn’t use whipped cream for the same reason they didn’t use fresh milk.
½ ounce Malibu Coconut rum
½ ounce Disaronno Amaretto Liquer
1 ounce Captain Morgan Special Reserve (or other dark spiced rum)
3-4 ice cubes
Thank you, Mr. Dael!