Three layers, three textures, three ten-minute jobs at the bench. Short pastry under bright lemon curd under glossy meringue, the peaks blowtorched gold. The patience between each step is what makes the pie.
Ingredients
The pie is the assembly of two component recipes plus an Italian meringue made fresh on the day. For pastry and curd, the methods, swap-outs, and storage notes live in their own posts:
- Pastry: Pâte Sucrée – one 23cm tart shell. Make a double batch and freeze the spare disc.
- Curd: Lemon Curd – about 600g. The pie wants the whole batch.
For the Italian meringue topping (made fresh on Sunday)
- 5 egg whites, room temperature (the curd uses 4 yolks; separate all five eggs together and the whites land here)
- 1g cream of tartar (about ¼ teaspoon), or a squeeze of lemon juice
- 250g caster sugar
- 100ml water
You’ll also want a 23cm tart tin with a removable base, baking beans or rice for blind baking, a sugar thermometer, a stand mixer (or hand whisk and patience), and a small kitchen blowtorch.
Saturday evening: pâte sucrée
Make the pâte sucrée: blender pastry, scented with the zest of two lemons, into a flat disc and into the fridge for at least an hour. The shell uses one 23cm-tin’s worth.
Saturday night: blind bake, lemon curd
I roll the chilled pastry out between two sheets of cling film to about 3mm thick, ease it into the tart tin, and trim. Prick the base, line with parchment and baking beans, and blind bake at 180°C for 15 minutes – baking the empty shell first so the wet curd doesn’t make the bottom soggy. I pull the parchment, brush the inside with a little egg white (it seals the pastry against the curd), and put it back for another 8 minutes until the base is golden and dry. Cool completely.
While the shell cools, make the lemon curd (the recipe makes about 600g, the right amount for this shell). Strain it warm through a sieve straight into the cooled tart shell.
Into the fridge to set. Minimum four hours; overnight is best. I press a sheet of cling film against the curd’s surface (not floating above it) so a skin doesn’t form. Before topping with meringue tomorrow, I check the curd is properly set: a finger pressed gently into the surface should resist and spring back, with no curd sticking. Soft curd under meringue collapses; if it isn’t there yet, leave it longer.
Sunday morning: Italian meringue, blowtorch
I weigh the 250g sugar and 100ml water into a small saucepan and warm it gently. Italian meringue is the most stable of the three meringues – a hot sugar syrup poured into whipping egg whites – and it holds its shape under a blowtorch without weeping.
While the syrup is climbing toward 118°C (soft-ball stage on a sugar thermometer), I whip the 5 egg whites with the 1g cream of tartar to soft peaks. The moment the syrup hits 118 I take it off the heat and pour it down the side of the bowl in a slow steady stream, the mixer running. I keep whipping until the bowl is cool to the touch and the meringue is glossy, stiff, and holds a peak that curls over on itself.
I scoop the meringue onto the cold tart and style the top with the back of a fork – a few sweeping drags from the centre out, enough to give the flame something to catch.
Then the blowtorch in short passes, painting the high points gold and leaving the valleys pale. Blowtorching in bursts gives the contrast: dark on the peaks, cream in the troughs. Don’t dwell. Meringue goes from unblemished snowfield to apocalyptic burned hellscape in about two microseconds – short bursts, keep the flame moving, stop a beat before you think you should.
When serving
A warm wet blade. A properly set curd cuts cleanly with a long sharp knife dipped in hot water and wiped dry. The heat melts a thin layer of curd and butter against the blade so the slice goes through without dragging or smudging the layers. Run the knife under the hot tap, wipe with a tea towel, cut. Repeat between every slice – residual curd from the previous cut will smear the next.