Finding Yvonne by Brandy Colbert

Author:Brandy Colbert
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2018-08-07T00:00:00+00:00

Meringue is a bit of a bitch.

The first one I made collapsed, and I had to start over. The second one came out perfect, and I’m even proud of the way I was able to brown the peaks on top.

“Looks beautiful,” Lou says the next day, carefully turning the pie so he can admire it from all angles.

It does look nice, but when he cuts into it, there’s a layer of liquid between the meringue and the filling. I sigh and look at him.

“It’s okay,” he says, sliding a piece onto my plate first, then my father’s and then his. “It’s called weeping. Happens all the time. Was the filling hot when you layered on the meringue?”

I can’t remember. I was so exhausted by the time I finally got the meringue right that I stopped paying attention to all the little details I’d read about before I started.

“If you make sure the filling is hot, the meringue will cook all the way through and won’t weep,” he offers.

I nod and hold my breath, and both Dad and I watch as he takes the first bite.

Lou chews thoughtfully. Slides in another forkful and swallows before he looks at me. “This is an objectively good attempt at your first lemon meringue pie, Yvonne.”

But.

“It tastes great and I’m impressed with your meringue. This was the first time you’ve made it?”

Across the table, my father finally bites into his piece, as if he needed Lou’s approval before he dug in. It hurts my feelings, but I try to ignore it and focus on Lou.

“Yeah. The one you’re looking at is my second try, but this is my first time making it.”

“My other critique is the crust,” he continues. “It should be flaky, but this is a little tough. Almost chewy. That usually means the butter you used wasn’t cold enough or you didn’t let the dough chill long enough before you put it into the oven.”

I think back to yesterday, when I set out all the ingredients first—including the butter. Then I had my coffee. I push my plate away.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Lou smiles. “This is nothing to be embarrassed about. Right, Sinclair?”

My father nods. “It’s a noble effort.”

“Your father presented me with some less than impressive dishes when he was starting out,” Lou says. “It comes with the territory. Cooking isn’t easy, and baking is even more precise.”

I am embarrassed, though. I didn’t think I was a baking prodigy, but it felt right—up until this point. Like maybe it would give me something to focus on besides violin. An activity I like and feel good about—something to occupy my time.

“I want you to try this again,” Lou says after he’s finished his whole piece. My father cleans his plate, too, but neither of them goes back for seconds. “And then, when we’re satisfied with this, we’ll move on to something else. People think pastry chefs have it easy, but I thank my lucky stars for mine each day. She’s not perfect, but she works her butt off to make sure it looks like she is.

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