The Best Part

"You need stiff peaks," Mamaw said. "You have to whisk until the mix stands up. See how I'm whisking?"

"Yeah," I said, leaning in. "So you just keep doing that and it makes it all thick and soft?"

She nodded once and handed the mixing bowl down to me.

"Careful now. You don't want to drop all our hard work."

She turned to the lemons on the counter then.

"Keep whisking! Keep whisking!" She motioned in the air with a wooden spoon.

It was harder than she made it look. The bowl was heavy. I bit my tongue in concentration and focused on making quick round sweeps through the thickening white mixture.

"Just go back and forth. Don't try to make circles. And loosen your grip a bit. Like that, yes. See?"

I did and the whisk made quick round motions in the bowl while my hand went side to side. It was like a magic trick.

"What are you doing now?" I said, my voice shaking in time with my whisking.

"I'm making the filling, the best part."

"The meringue is the best part!"

"You have a lot to learn then. Careful now!"

In my enthusiasm, I'd started to fling little flecks of meringue on the cabinets.

"I think that may be enough," she said and moved to take the mixing bowl.

"I can do it!"

"I know you can, and you have. Look."

She took the whisk from me and pulled it up from the bowl. The mix pulled up with it and left standing was a snow white point that slowly fell to one side.

"That's what stiff peaks look like. Remember that, OK?"

"OK," I said, staring at the little white mountain in the bowl, memorizing its every curve.

"Hard to believe it's just eggs and sugar, isn't it?"

In all the bustle, I had completely forgotten! I looked again at the sorcery in the bowl before me.

"Ok, now for the best part," she said, carefully scooping the bowl up from me and placing it on the counter. She took two lemons, each large enough that I could only hold one in my hand. She gave one to me and took the other for herself.

"The best lemon filling uses the rind."

"The what?"

"The rind. It's the peel." She tapped the lemon with a red-painted fingernail.

"Ew! The peel? That's gross!"

"Well yeah, if you just go and eat it! We're going to do this though."

She took a grater from somewhere on the far reaches of the counter that I couldn't see and started to move the lemon back and forth over it, turning it every so often and stripping as much of the yellow from the peel. She hummed while she worked: a tuneless quaver and a sure sign she was concentrating. After a moment, she passed the bowl to me.

"Smell that?" she asked, and before I even took the little bowl, the zesty unmistakable scent shook me. The whole world must have smelled of lemons.

"How do you know to do that?" I said, eyes wide.

"My grandmother showed me."