Some obsessions are long standing, like my odd fascination with Adrian Brody. He’s not handsome in the traditional sense and yet the obsession with this man continues. Others are newer like Joseph Gordon-Levitt . . . who knew that the gawky kid from Third Rock From the Sun would turn out to be a handsome and talented actor. But this isn’t about celebrity crushes (although I’m pretty sure we could pull off a month of them). This is about a new obsession, one that has materialized in the past two weeks. One that has the ability to make my life either pretty f-ing sweet or one that could be the cause of my ruin. Not going to lie, It could go either way. And the sad fact is, you already know what it is. Mason jars.
Ah, yes, that whole summer of enrichment bullshit. The humble Mason jar. Never mind the fact that I only own Ball jars. I just can’t bring my self to say, “Hey, I made this delicious salad in a Ball jar,” for fear that I’d never make it through a sentence without lapsing into my best Beevis and Butthead laugh. So I’ll persist in calling the jars I own by another brand’s name. We took our daughters and one of their boyfriends out for lunch on Saturday, and the conversation turned to Mason jars. “Please tell me that you are using them for organization and not because they are cute,” one of them said. “Ummm . . . right. Organization. They really help with the organization. Tell them how organized the pantry is, honey,” I practically begged my husband so that the Girls would see that I’m using them for a variety of reasons and not just because they are cute. But the sad fact is, the damn things are bloody adorable.
The cutest of the bunch? These lovely little quarter-pint jars. I’m mean, seriously, they are so fucking cute that I just about can’t stand it. Practical? Not really. Adorable? It nearly kills me. Last Thursday, I set out to make something for my husband since the next day was our anniversary. After 21 years of marriage, you kinda have a hard time finding something for a gift, so I decided to make some lemon curd for him. The recipe was pretty straight forward, and the quarter pint jars worked perfectly Not going to lie . . . I might have been more motivated to make the curd because of the jars (sorry, honey). But then I faced a dilemma. What do I do with all the lemon curd? I know! I’ll make tiny, individual lemon meringue pies. In the quarter pint Mason jars. Oh, obsession. Thank you for fueling this passion.
So, here’s what I did. I took four Biscoff cookies and smashed the hell out of them. Then I put divided them between the two jars, put a teaspoon of butter on top, and microwaved them for 30 seconds. Then I stirred the mixture, tapped it down on the bottom, and topped it with two tablespoons of the lemon curd. Next, I made some meringue (again, not going to lie: I made salmon cakes for dinner and was left with three egg whites . . . seriously, what was I supposed to do? Throw them away? Make an egg white omelette?) and popped it in a 350 oven for 15 minutes. Voila . . . the perfect lemon meringue piecup. Yes, I’m insisting on calling them piecups because a) I’m also a little obsessed with Pushing Daisies, which never should have been canceled, b) they are the same size as a cupcake, and c) I might have a problem (cough, cough . . . new obsession) with cupcakes.
In the span of about 14 days, I’ve gone from owning zero Mason jars to 36. About 12 to 15 are currently being used in the pantry for organization. Another five are in the frig in the form of salads or storing leftover sugar snap peas. And the rest? The rest are in the bottom drawer of my cupboards just waiting to be used. I’m thinking that this recipe will make a debut during our parent/teacher conferences because we all need a little pick-me-up during those days. But other than that, I’m open to suggestions, so suggest away.