Grandma Chapin’s Favorite Lemon Pie

Grandma Chapin always claimed it "wasn't fit to eat," but we knew better. Her modesty was as legendary as her desserts, and this lemon pie was the crown jewel of childhood memories. It’s sweet, tangy, and downright irresistible—just like Grandma herself.

Software (a.k.a. Ingredients)

1 cup sugar sweetness for the soul
1/4 cup cornstarch pie glue, if you will
1/4 teaspoon salt just a pinch, don’t get salty about it
1 1/2 cups boiling water careful, it’s HOT
2 egg yolks reserve their fluffy cousins for meringue
1/3 cup fresh lemon juice none of that bottled nonsense
1 tablespoon butter for that silky finish
1 pre-baked pie crust store-bought or homemade—no judgment here

Procedure (a.k.a. The Magic)

Mix the Dry Stuff: In a heatproof bowl, combine sugar, cornstarch, and salt. Think of this as the foundation of pie greatness.
Bring on the Heat: Pour in the boiling water while stirring like your life (or pie) depends on it. Set the bowl over a double boiler because we’re fancy like that. Stir constantly until the mixture is smooth and starts to thicken. No lumps allowed—Grandma wouldn’t approve.
Patience is a Virtue: Cover the bowl and let it cook for 15 minutes over the simmering water. Don’t wander too far, though—pies wait for no one.
Egg Yolks Join the Party: Beat the egg yolks in a small bowl like they owe you money. Slowly—SLOWLY—stir them into the sugar mixture while whisking non-stop. This is how you avoid scrambled eggs in your pie. Cook for 5 more minutes, stirring constantly. Your arm workout for the day: complete.
Lemon Love: Remove the bowl from the double boiler. Stir in the lemon juice and butter until the mixture is smooth and glossy, like liquid sunshine. Let it cool slightly—you don’t want to melt your crust.
Fill ‘Er Up: Pour the luscious lemon filling into the pre-baked pie crust. Spread it out evenly and marvel at your masterpiece.
Cool Off: Let the pie cool completely. This is the hardest part, but trust me, warm lemon pie is not the vibe.
Top It Off: Finish with meringue, whipped cream, or whatever topping makes your heart sing. Grandma would want you to make it your own.

Notes

Slice, serve, and prepare to channel your inner Grandma Chapin as you humbly tell everyone it’s “not fit to eat.” Spoiler: they’ll know you’re lying. This pie is chef’s kiss perfection.