Key Lime Pie — The Substitution Was Acceptable

The light at six hours and the city electric in defiance. Pete and I worked the night shift Friday. We talked between codes about the kids — his daughter's wedding planning, my sister's pregnancy. The talking was the keeping.

Lourdes is 75. She is slower. She still cooks. She still tells me to find a husband even though I have one.

I made champorado Sunday. The chocolate rice porridge. The body wanted it.

I drafted a blog post on Tuesday and almost did not publish it. I published it Friday. The publishing was the practice.

The kitchen window faced the inlet. The inlet was silver in the late light. The light was the inheritance.

I took a walk on the coastal trail Saturday. The light was good. The body was tired but moving.

Angela texted me a photo of the kids. I texted back a heart. The exchange took thirty seconds. The thirty seconds was the keeping.

The break room had cake Tuesday. Someone's birthday. We ate the cake. We did not ask whose birthday. The cake was the cake.

Auntie Norma called Sunday to ask if I had a recipe for a particular merienda from Iloilo. I did not. I said I would ask Lourdes. I asked Lourdes. Lourdes had it. The chain.

I cleaned the kitchen Sunday afternoon. I wiped the stove. I scrubbed the sink. I reorganized the spice cabinet. The cleaning was the small reset. The reset was the marker. The marker said: the week is over, the next week begins, the kitchen is ready.

I drove home Tuesday evening and the sun set at three forty-five and the highway was already iced at the bridges and the radio was on a station I did not recognize and I did not change it.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced a fundraiser for typhoon relief in Samar. I committed to making three hundred lumpia. The number is the number. The number has always been the number. Three hundred is what I make. The math has stopped surprising me.

The grocery store had no calamansi. I substituted lime. The substitution was acceptable. The acceptable is the working version of perfect.

The salmon in the freezer is from August. Joseph's catch. The bag is labeled in his handwriting — "for Grace." I will use it next week.

The neighbors invited us over for a small dinner Thursday. They are an Iñupiaq family — Aana and her grandson Joe. We ate caribou stew and rice. I brought lumpia. The kitchens of Anchorage have always been the small UN. The food is the proof.

I took inventory of the freezer Sunday. The freezer had: twelve quarts of broth, eight pounds of adobo in vacuum bags, six pounds of sinigang base, fourteen lumpia trays at fifty rolls each, three pounds of marinated beef for caldereta, and a small bag of pandan leaves Tita Nening had sent me. The inventory was the proof of preparation. The preparation was the proof of love.

A blog reader sent me a photograph of her grandmother's wooden mortar and pestle, used since 1962. The photograph was holy. I wrote her back. The writing back is the work.

I read a chapter of a novel before bed each night this week. The novel was about a Filipina nurse in California. The novel was good. The novel was, in some way, my own life adjacent.

I checked email at the kitchen table while the rice cooked. There were one hundred and twenty unread messages. I closed the laptop. The unread can wait.

Lourdes called me twice this week. The first call was about a church event. The second was about a recipe variation she had remembered from her childhood. The remembering was the gift.

The store had no calamansi that week, and I used lime, and it was fine — better than fine, actually. That small lesson stayed with me: the substitute can carry the intention just as well, if you let it. Key Lime Pie felt like the right thing to make after a week like that one, all night shifts and salmon bags labeled in someone else’s handwriting and light on the inlet going silver. It is tart where champorado is warm, but both of them are the body asking for something specific, and the body usually knows.

Key Lime Pie

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 35 min + 2 hrs chilling | Servings: 8

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs (about 10 full crackers)
• 1/3 cup granulated sugar
• 6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
• 3 large egg yolks
• 1 tablespoon key lime or regular lime zest (from about 4 limes)
• 2/3 cup fresh key lime juice or regular lime juice (from about 8–10 limes)
• 1 can (14 oz) sweetened condensed milk
• 1 cup heavy whipping cream
• 2 tablespoons powdered sugar
• Thin lime slices, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

1. Make the crust. Preheat oven to 350°F. Combine graham cracker crumbs, granulated sugar, and melted butter in a bowl and stir until the mixture looks like wet sand. Press firmly into the bottom and up the sides of a 9-inch pie dish. Bake for 8 minutes until just set, then set aside to cool slightly.
2. Make the filling. In a large bowl, whisk together egg yolks and lime zest for about 2 minutes until the yolks lighten slightly in color. Add the sweetened condensed milk and whisk until smooth. Slowly add the lime juice, whisking constantly, until fully incorporated.
3. Fill and bake. Pour the filling into the pre-baked crust. Bake at 350°F for 15 minutes, until the filling is set at the edges but still has a slight jiggle in the center. Do not overbake.
4. Chill. Remove from the oven and let cool to room temperature on a wire rack, about 30 minutes. Transfer to the refrigerator and chill for at least 2 hours, or until fully set.
5. Make the whipped cream. Just before serving, beat the heavy whipping cream and powdered sugar together with a hand mixer or stand mixer on medium-high speed until soft peaks form, about 2–3 minutes.
6. Serve. Slice the chilled pie and top each slice with a dollop of whipped cream and a thin lime slice if desired. Keep leftovers covered in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 52g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 190mg