Lemon Meringue Tart

Posted on Friday, 18th January 2013 by Grace Massa Langlois

During the holidays I was in charge of preparing the desserts and when my niece, Natalie, requested Lemon Meringue Tart I couldn’t disappoint. Plus whenever I get the chance to prepare a citrus dessert I’m right on it because both of my children dislike lemon desserts. It’s especially maddening since my son, Matt, eats a lemon like he eats an orange. And my daughter, Liana, enjoys lemon in everything but dessert.

This was the first year in about five that we enjoyed the holidays at my mother’s house (not the entire family but some of us). The family has been growing steadily and about five years ago it was decided (in my opinion, very bad decision) that we start breaking away from the tradition.

I can understand the reasoning behind it but I don’t agree with it. The home we grew up in and enjoyed so many holidays together suddenly became too small to accommodate everyone. One thing is for certain; the holidays haven’t been the same for anyone since the decision was made. And deep down inside everyone is craving to be packed in like sardines laughing, eating, playing scopa (Italian card game), roasting chestnuts and watching the wide-eyed expression on the children’s faces when Santa pops in for a visit.

We grew up in a 1900 square foot redbrick side split with four floors. The top floor has three bedrooms and one full bath. The second floor has a large living room and kitchen with dining area. The third level accommodates a 2-piece bath with shower, another larger eat-in kitchen, and the one-time bedroom has been converted into a large dining area. The renovation created a large l-shaped room. The basement level has a decent sized unfinished laundry room, which is one of the most used rooms in the house.

My father hooked up a third stove (used for preserving tomatoes) and built my mother a table for making pasta and preparing bread, my mother’s kneaded many a loaf of bread on that table. Adjacent to the laundry room is a 25 by 30 foot den and just beside that is my father’s wine cellar. It houses the damigiane di vino (wine demijohns) and the botti di vino (wine barrels) along with shelves and shelves of neatly organized jars of preserved tomatoes. And of course it’s also the place the hanging salami and prosciutto call home.

At Christmas time, tables were arranged in an l-shape on the lower level so that when my father sat at the head of the table with my mother to his side they could see their entire family. And what a site it was, and did I mention loud, very loud. Year after year as the family grew so did my father’s smile. My father was a very quiet man, strong, protective, a man of few words but when his family gathered together you only need glance at his face and you knew he was very happy and beaming with pride.

Christmas Eve was our big celebration. Immediately after dinner you could hear the clinking sound of loose coins, it was time for the men to gather and play scopa. The woman would clear the table and bring out coffee and dessert. The kids would play and we’d roast chestnuts.

As a little girl I remember having to wait until after midnight mass to open presents but year after year, generation after generation, this tradition changed and inevitably no sooner did the men get the cards on the table the children would tug at my father’s pants and ask, “Nono (grandpa) is it time to open the presents?”

Image if you will, sixty-five people gathering in a 25 by 30 foot room with enough presents to fill the room. Chairs were arranged in the room but not near enough for all to sit, some would sit on the hearth of the fireplace, some on the stairs and some would squeeze together on the couch. A spot was always cleared in the centre of the room so we could watch the children open their presents. And for a few short seconds everyone had to be as quiet as a mouse so we could hear the bells from Santa’s sleigh. And when Santa arrived all hell broke loose, the children were barely able to contain their excitement. I cherish those times and I miss them terribly.

I’m very proud to share I’ve become a great aunt again (that makes 16 with another 2 on the way). My niece, Natalie, and her husband, Julio, had their first child, Grayson.

After Christmas dinner like many years before coffee and dessert was served and while I was enjoying a slice of Lemon Meringue Tart and cuddling with Grayson I couldn’t help but look around at everyone and remember all the Christmases past and my father’s expression. I could feel the tears well up and it’s made me more determined than ever to bring back the tradition.