sugar on wheels

I gave my last $20 to a taxi driver and asked him to take two-thirds of a lemon meringue pie to Hanover. it's too late and i'm too drunk to drive. Geo was going to haggle the driver down on price, but i met his eye and asked him to make sure it got there. people are hungry, you know. but maybe he is too.

it takes muscle, what with wrestling the ghosts of old meringue makers who peer into this 1850s Fitzroy kitchen. tut tutting as my cornflower glugs and then goes sloppy. Lemon too tart. Pastry stuck to the dish. And keep whipping that meringue chunder. more. that's not a peak ... they put all that sugar in it to give you the energy to keep going with the hand whipping.

hanover called. it got there.