Contest-Winning Rhubarb Meringue Pie

Thanksgiving Day. Thirty-four ended up coming. The Hernándezes brought a cousin in from Tampa. The day started at 4:30 AM. Turkey on the smoker by 5. James over by 7 AM with two more turkeys (we always do three on Thanksgiving — the big one for show, two extras for sandwiches). By 11 AM the kitchen was a controlled riot. By 1 PM the dining room (which is technically the living room with the table extended and four card tables added on) seated thirty-four people in a configuration that violated every fire code and most physics laws.

Mai gave the blessing. She does it in Vietnamese, then Linh translates. The blessing is simple every year: Thank you for the food. Thank you for the family. Thank you for the country. (The country line was added in 2014 — Mai didn't want to thank America for the first thirty-five years of her time here, but somewhere around the time she became a grandmother she made peace with it.) Mai's voice is thin. Linh's voice is steady. Together they make a chorus that sounds like every Thanksgiving I have ever had.

The food. The smoked turkey was the best turkey of my life. I will say that this year and every year going forward, until I can't. James's jollof rice. Lily's cornbread (Mai's recipe for the cornbread, which Mai has begrudgingly accepted is good cornbread for what cornbread is). Mai's pho gà for the soup course. Spring rolls. Pad thai (which Trang, Kevin's fiancée, brought because Trang is Thai and brings Thai). Pupusas from Mrs. Hernández. Charlie's smoked oysters. The Sudanese family's shata stew. Six pies for dessert: pumpkin (Helen), pecan (me), apple (Mei), durian custard (Lan, the new neighbor — yes durian, yes everyone tried it, yes most of us liked it), banana cream (Marlene), and a Vietnamese coffee tiramisu Lily made because Lily is showing off.

The toast was Tyler this year. Tyler stood up holding Jade and looked around the room and said, "Dad worked his whole life so we could be in this room. Thank you, Dad. Thank you." Then he sat down. Tyler is not a public speaker. Twelve words. They were the right twelve words. I had to look at the ceiling for a minute.

We did six pies that Thanksgiving — and I made the pecan, same as every year. But when I tell that story to people who weren’t there, the one that always stops them is Lan’s durian custard, because of the audacity. That got me thinking about the pies we haven’t made yet, the ones that would turn heads the same way — something with a little tartness underneath all that sweetness, something that looks almost too beautiful to cut into. This rhubarb meringue pie is exactly that. It’s the kind of dish that earns its place on a table crowded with thirty-four people and thirty-five years of history.

Prep Time: 30 minutes | Cook Time: 55 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 25 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 unbaked 9-inch pie crust (homemade or store-bought)
3 cups fresh or frozen rhubarb, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 1/4 cups granulated sugar, divided
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
3 large eggs, separated
3/4 cup whole milk
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar
6 tablespoons granulated sugar (for meringue)
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Fit the pie crust into a 9-inch pie plate, crimp the edges, and set aside. If using frozen rhubarb, thaw and drain thoroughly before measuring.
Make the filling. In a large bowl, whisk together 1 cup of the granulated sugar, flour, and salt. Add the egg yolks, milk, and softened butter; whisk until smooth and well combined. Fold in the rhubarb pieces until evenly coated.
Fill and bake. Pour the rhubarb filling into the unbaked pie crust, spreading evenly. Bake on the center rack for 45–50 minutes, until the filling is set and only slightly jiggly in the very center. Remove from the oven and leave the oven on.
Make the meringue. While the pie finishes baking, beat the egg whites and cream of tartar in a clean bowl with a hand or stand mixer on medium speed until foamy. Gradually add the 6 tablespoons of sugar, one tablespoon at a time, increasing to high speed. Add the vanilla extract and continue beating until stiff, glossy peaks form.
Top and finish baking. Spread the meringue over the hot filling immediately, sealing it all the way to the edges of the crust to prevent shrinking. Use a spoon or offset spatula to swirl decorative peaks. Return the pie to the oven and bake for 12–15 minutes, until the meringue is golden brown on the peaks.
Cool completely. Transfer the pie to a wire rack and cool at room temperature for at least 2 hours before slicing. Do not refrigerate until fully cooled, as condensation can weep the meringue.

Nutrition (per serving)

Contest-Winning Rhubarb Meringue Pie — One More Pie for the Table That Held Everything