Gloomy, gray days that linger too long make me long for the fleeting treats of summer.
It’s cold here. The skies are gray or almost white, heavy and thick with clouds. The ground is wet, at least those patches that have gathered in whatever warmth has managed to escape the overcast. Mostly, our yard is covered in snow, crusty old snow that fell with the waning year. We live on the wrong side of the street.
It’s been days since we felt the sunshine. Three? Thirteen? Three thousand? I’ve lost count. It seems like forever.
Yesterday, once the road in front of our house looked nearly dry, or at least barely wet, and desperate to see something other than the four white walls of this living room, we decided to go get a warm beverage and a new perspective. Often we drive out in the country or the foothills to look for wildlife or to watch the fields turn green and fill up with baby animals. But it’s not that time of year. Instead, it is simply the bleak midwinter. It’s still a nice respite, however, so we drove through a drive-thru coffee shop for hot chocolate and cinnamon-flavored lattes, and we turned up the volume on the car radio.
Christmas is over, so no tunes about the “moon of wintertime,” but there was this …
“All the leaves are down / And the skies are gray …”
Or was it just my sister humming under her breath:
“California dreamin’ / On such a winter’s day.”
Now I’m thinking about summer and citrus fruit and hot, hot days.
One day, some years ago, I walked up the Spanish Steps in Rome when it was 100 degrees out. One hundred thirty-five steps, nearly shoulder to shoulder with other tourists channeling Audrey Hepburn, past the ugly boat fountain (Fontana del Barcaccia), up to the Trinita dei Monti church and the Sallustiano Obelisk, past brides (lots of brides in Rome) in white dresses and lots of posters of missing women. At the top, there was a magnificent view of the Roman Forum and grand imaginings of civilizations long past.
We didn’t drop our gelato at the foot of the Spanish Steps. We didn’t have to. We were already melting in its stead.
The hottest day I ever lived through, however, was in Washington, D.C., in July. There’s a reason they recess Congress in the late summer. It’s the same reason they call parts of that place Soggy Bottom. Hint: Humidity. Hint, hint: It’s built on a swamp. The day we were there, walking from the Capitol to the Air & Space Museum at high noon, the reading on the hygrometer must have been pushing 1,001 percent. It was, in a word, unbearable. I think they modeled hell after days like that. On the other hand, I experienced pure, overwhelming gratitude when we stepped into the air-conditioned building and found a table in a fast food joint. I guess you take your wins where you find them.
But that isn’t the stuff of California dreams. Driving through our bleak, snow-covered landscape, I was thinking more of lazy days under a high, soft sun, the smell of citrus and hibiscus in the air, a caressing breeze, like a gift, blowing in feelings of freedom and possibility.
My grandmother spent many of her last years in a little gray house in a small town in southern California. When we visited her in that house, she tucked us in at night in cozy, seldom-used guest rooms, made blintzes for breakfast and sent us outside to play in her lush backyard, cool and green and shady. A huge orange tree dominated the yard, the house, the vacation. A kid born and raised in semi-arid Colorado, I had never seen an orange tree before, certainly not one that big, that amazing. It was heavy with fruit. The aroma of oranges filled the house and eased us into the new day. Fresh orange juice always graced the breakfast table, hand squeezed from oranges picked moments before from that great tree.
That — and pie — is the stuff of dreams.
The Pie
'I Can’t Wait for Summer'
Orange Dreamsicle Pie
A couple of weekends ago, a group of friends and I went to see “Waitress: The Musical.” I am a big musical theater fan, but since the pandemic hit two years ago, nights out in the company of madding crowds have been few (only twice) and far between. I’d heard great things about this show and had enjoyed the movie when I watched it (at an honest-to-goodness Cineplex) years ago and again sometime during the COVID lockdown, so I was excited for the night out.
In case you don’t know the story, “Waitress” is about a woman who works at a diner, planning for a way out of her abusive marriage, having an affair with her gynecologist, and making pies. Each day she creates a new pie for the diner menu and, at least in her head, gives the pies names evocative of the turmoil in her life: “I Don’t Want Earl’s Baby Pie,” “Fallin’ in Love Chocolate Mousse Pie” and “Old Joe’s Horny Past Pie.”
So, in honor of Broadway musicals, great friendships and enduring hope that someday the sun will shine again, I made — and named — a “I Can’t Wait for Summer” Orange Dreamsicle Pie.
It did taste remarkably like a Dreamsicle, sweet, a little tart and perfectly creamy. But, full disclosure here, this was not the most successful pie I ever made. It was pretty, but the custard didn’t get quite thick enough and it didn’t set up fully in the refrigerator. The thick whipped cream on the top sort of held it together when I cut it, but by the second day, the custard had planned — and largely accomplished — its own escape. A little longer on the stove (stirring constantly) would probably remedy that.
In spite of that, it was tasty, like a bite of California backyard oranges — and sunshine.
The Recipes
'I Can’t Wait for Summer'
Orange Dreamsicle Pie*
½ cup granulated sugar
½ teaspoon salt
¼ cup packed cornstarch
2 cups whole milk
4 large egg yolks
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 teaspoons freshly grated orange zest
½ cup freshly squeezed orange juice, strained through a fine-meshed sieve
2 to 3 teaspoons orange extract
1 parbaked sweet crust
Homemade whipped cream
Candied orange peel, for decorating
Whisk together sugar, salt and cornstarch in a medium saucepan. Add the milk and egg yolks and whisk together until there are no lumps.
Place the saucepan over medium heat and cook, whisking constantly, until the mixture comes to a low simmer and begins to thicken, about 8 minutes. Continue cooking, whisking constantly and scraping the bottom of the pan to prevent scorching, until the mixture begins to boil, about 1 minute more. Let it boil for a full minute, still whisking. Immediately remove from heat.
Add the butter, orange zest and orange juice. Whisk until the butter is melted and everything is fully combined. Stir in orange extract, adding more drop by drop until mixture reaches desired orange-ness. The mixture should be creamy, smooth and thick. (If it isn’t thick enough, leave it on the heat for a while longer.)
Pour the orange cream into the parbaked pie shell, while hot. Cover it with plastic wrap to prevent a film from forming on the top. The plastic wrap should touch the mixture. Refrigerate the pie until the filling has set, at least four hours.
Make the whipped cream by whipping together thick whipping cream and powdered sugar, to taste, until peaks form.
Remove the plastic wrap and top with whipped cream before serving.
Sweet crust
2 cups all-purpose flour
2½ tablespoons baking powder
½ cup white sugar
¼ cup shortening, chilled
½ tablespoon shortening, chilled
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
This recipe makes two crusts but can easily be halved if you only want a bottom crust for the “I Can’t Wait for summer” Dreamsicle Pie, or freeze half of it for a future creation.
Combine the flour, baking powder and sugar. Cut in chilled shortening until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Mix in beaten eggs and vanilla extract. Divide dough into 2 balls, wrap in plastic wrap and chill for at least 30 minutes.
Roll out dough and line 9-inch pie plate. Do not build the edges above the pie plate, because this tender crust will not hold up on its own in the oven. Prick the bottom of the crust with a fork several times, and then freeze for at least 30 minutes. Line crust with aluminum foil or parchment paper, fill with pie weights and bake in a preheated 350-degree oven for about 15 minutes. Remove the foil and pie weights. Return to the oven for another 10 minutes or until the edges of the crust are golden brown.
Candied orange peels
Using a carrot peeler, carefully peel one orange from top to bottom, making 2- to 4-inch-long segments. Cut the pieces into thinner ¼-inch strips.
Place the strips into a medium saucepan over medium or medium-low heat. Add 2 quarts water, 1 cup sugar and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Stir and bring to a simmer. Allow orange peels to simmer for 20 minutes. Cook until they are just soft but not so long that they lose their color or get brown. Stir in the vanilla extract. Turn off the heat and let the peels rest in the sugar syrup for upto 20 minutes. Stir in 1 teaspoon vanilla extract. Turn off the heat and allow the peels to soak in the sugar syrup for another 5-10 minutes.
Using tongs, remove the orange peels to a cooling rack. (Minimize mess by putting a piece of parchment paper under the cooling rack.) Let orange peels rest for at least 15 minutes; then toss the cooled peels in a bowl of the remaining 1/2 cup of sugar. At this point, you can curl the peels by wrapping them loosely around a straw or other implement. Allow to dry completely at room temperature, for another 30 minutes or longer.
Candied Orange Peels can be stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 2 weeks.
*Recipe adapted from Orange Cream Pie in "Teeny's Tour of Pie" by Teeny Lamothe, 2014.
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