Spackling and Sanding, and Old Fashioned Lime Pie

This week marked my husband's and my ninth wedding anniversary.  It's hard to believe we've been married that long, though then again, it's hard to believe that we have a four year old son and a four month old daughter.  We celebrated by getting a babysitter and slipping away right after N. went to sleep for her first "long sleep" of the night, and we were able to eat dinner -- at a nice restaurant! -- and get home before she started to stir.

I've been doing some work in the kitchen these past two weeks in preparation for new countertops (the old ones are actually mold-filled pressed wood, so we need new ones, despite the somewhat inconvenient timing that coincided with our shift to a single-income household), and I've been thinking that spackling and sanding is a lot like marriage, or really, any long-term committed relationship.  You start out with something that looks pristine, but then, over time, things change, and you create holes that you have to patch up, so you get new drywall, and you spackle and sand.  You probably spackle and sand three times--maybe you even prime it once somewhere in there, hoping that will help--before you realize that you can never smooth the rough patches over entirely; your wall has changed.  Heck, maybe your house was a little crooked to begin with, so you couldn't possibly put the new drywall in without incident.  Still, you put a whole lot of time and energy into this project, and the wall is whole again, and that's what's important, even if it's got bumps and divets.  You take the next step and prime it, and then you paint, knowing that paint will hide a lot of flaws.  And chances are you'll have to go through the whole process all over again more times than you will care to before you leave the house for good.

Part of the sanding and spackling in a good relationship is compromise.  Though it will seem like a silly example: S. loves citrusy desserts.  The more tart and tangy, the better.  I made this pie for him before we got married, knowing that the quickest way to many people's hearts is through their stomachs.  S. lovingly refers to it as "blood lime pie" because I have a tendency to grate my skin when I'm grating lime peel, and I also sliced my finger open the first time when I was slicing limes for the garnish.  It's one of the few desserts I have in my cookbook that I don't much like (I'm sure that it came from someone's church cookbook years ago), but S. likes it ... and so when I have a chance to make it and serve it to more people than our intimate little clan, I do.

Happy anniversary, S.  Here's to many more years of home maintainance.

Old Fashioned Lime Pie

36 vanilla wafer cookies (4.75 oz)
1/4 c. unsalted butter, melted
1/2 t. plus 1 T. grated lime zest
14 oz. sweetened condensed milk
3/4 c. fresh lime juice
2 large eggs
Lime slices or lime peel curls

Preheat oven to 350°F. Finely grind vanilla wafers in processor. Add melted butter and 1/2 teaspoon grated lime peel; process until moist crumbs form. Transfer to 9-inch-diameter glass pie dish. Using plastic wrap as aid, press crumbs onto bottom and up sides of dish (crust will be thin). Bake just until crust begins to turn golden on edges, about 10 minutes. Remove from oven. Maintain oven temperature.

Meanwhile, whisk condensed milk, lime juice and 1 tablespoon lime peel in medium bowl to blend. Whisk in eggs.

Pour filling into warm crust. Bake until filling is set, about 20 minutes. Cool. Refrigerate until chilled, about 3 hours. (Can be prepared 1 day ahead. Cover and keep refrigerated.) Garnish with lime slices or curls of lime peel. Cut into wedges; serve.