I’ve started drinking caffeinated coffee again.

And what does this have to do with pie, you wonder.

I drank two whole mugs of regular before my husband left for work in a hurry yesterday, muttering to himself “Aren’t I glad I’ll be out of here by the time the crash comes.”

Harrumph. In the meantime, I’ve got a HUGE spike in productivity. If you have any things you need me to do, just pass ’em on over.

I’ve been trying to write about Disney trip, and I’ve drafted something, but I’m finding it awfully complex for reasons you might understand soon. Meanwhile, I bought some nectarines yesterday, and I realized that I have some important seasonal information to share.

The sign above the nectarines at Fairway says “Nectarines are the best mutation ever: even more delicious than mules!”

Perhaps that should not be in quotes. I may be paraphrasing. Still, even if the sign said that exact thing, it would be a true sign. Fairway would not get sued, even by the mule community, if they had put up that sign.

This morning I offered Henry part of a nectarine. I referred to it as a treat, which is admittedly a subjective term, and one that we debate with some frequency. It was an especially hot topic of argument during a recent spate of days when I was lacing everything I served him with creamy, foul-smelling, ear-healing amoxicillin.

He liked the nectarine though, and raced around begging for more. I asked him if he knew what this magical substance was called, and he stopped and whooped “BABY TREAT!” as he stomped his feet, because that is how enthusiastic nectarines, the less hirsute and sterile cousins of peaches, can make people feel.

Today I will share with you the recipe for the best pie I have ever tasted.

Yes, the best pie ever created is my mom’s / grandma’s / aunt’s pie.

I may have relied on hyperbole to get your attention in the past, but this is a winner. Plus, you don’t have to cook the fruit. You don’t have to sweeten the cream. You will be blinded by desire once you taste this pie. Not for your spouse, or for someone else’s spouse, but for the whole rest of the pie.

When I recently wrote about Pavlova, my mom pointed out that the fruit / acid / meringue / cream combo is certainly very well-loved in our family, and cited this pie. I hadn’t thought of it, but she’s totally right.

You can also make this with berries, or use almonds (which complement peaches) rather than walnuts. However, it’s not going to get any better than this.

Welcome to the rest of your life, which is going to be awesome, because it will include this pie.

Baby Treat Pie

Prodecure

Peel and slice six nectarines or peaches. Add ¼ of the sugar and refrigerate until the slices are nice and juicy.

Preheat oven to 325. Beat 3 egg whites stiff. Gradually add the remaining one cup of sugar. Roll 16 saltines very fine. (Put them in a big zip lock bag first.)

Pour the egg whites over the saltines. Add baking powder, walnuts, and vanilla. Fold these items into the egg whites.

Pour into a butter pie plate and bake for 30 minutes. The crust will be golden and pillowy looking. It won’t look particularly concave. Do not worry about this.

Cool pie crust.

Layer the fruit slices onto the crust. Let the juice soak into the meringue.

Whip a quantity of cream in a cold bowl. Add vanilla or almond extract. Spread cream on the fruit.

Ingredients

• 6 peaches, peeled and sliced
• 1 1/4 C sugar
• 3 egg whites
• 16 saltines (salted)
• 1/2 cup chopped walnuts
• 1/4 tsp. baking powder
• 1 tsp. vanilla plus more, or almond extract for the cream
• 1 cup heavy cream