Pie in the Sky

Despite my ridiculously fair complexion, I am a beach person. When S and I need to drop out, we head to The Meridian Club on the private island of Turks and Caicos. A bundle of Eres suits, some tees and a couple of good books and spf500 and I’m packed for a week of idyllic beach living. On the plane over, I anticipated the deserted white sand beaches, the sparkling turquoise sea and the gentle tropical breezes. As I daydreamed about our holiday, I noticed that, like Pavlov’s dog, I was salivating. And I knew why: Amy Caffarel’s Key Lime Pie.

Amy Caffarel is the pastry chef at The Meridian Club and her key lime pie is as tangy, as sweet, and as tart as it probably is in heaven. There really is no other key lime pie after you’ve tasted Amy’s. She learned the ropes at The White Barn Inn, a Relais & Chateaux in Kennebunkport, Maine and then owned a bakery in Bristol, Vermont before trading the snow for the endless blue skies of T&C. “The Meridian Club gives me carte blanche and this is unusual in this industry,” she says. The first dessert she ever made was Strawberry Shortcake with the berries from her grandmother’s garden and the most challenging one was three-tiered birthday cake with a fox hunt scene painted on the fondant for a recent guest. “A challenge in the Caribbean heat!”

But back to the pie. I knew I needed a strategy to manage the temptation. I had visions of slipping into the kitchen during afternoon siesta hour, sliding one of those citrus beauties off the metal cooling rack and devouring it under my private palapa. If the buddy system works at AA, I thought, it might stand a chance with PEA (Pie Eater’s Anonymous). During the first dinner, I proposed to S that we order the pie but split it. S unequivocally told me he wanted his own slice. So I had no choice but to order a piece for myself and eat every last buttery crumb on the plate. The next evening, I decided to back away from the pie by choosing the resort’s other top favourite: Roasted Strawberries with Basil Ice Cream and Balsamic Vinegar. It was delicious, and low-cal and all, but I missed my pie. The following night, Amy added key lime pie shots to the menu. Old School, I went back to the pie. Then, after devouring it in mere seconds, I called our waiter over and ordered the shots. He gave me a look that said, ‘My, aren’t we a little piggy?’ but I feigned ignorance and when he returned moments later with the sea foam-coloured shots on a tray, I dove into them as though I was breaking a long hunger strike.

And so it went for the remaining days. Snorkeling on the reef. Key Lime Pie. Sailing. Key Lime Pie. Sunset cruise. Key Lime Pie. Beach walk. Key Lime Pie. Jump Up. Key Lime Pie. Afternoon tea. Key Lime Pie.

At the start of the vacation I was wearing cute little bikinis and almost everything stayed in the right place. About mid-way through, my midriff began to cast some looming shadows on the sand and it seemed prudent to switch to the one-piece suits. I also noticed that the white linen pants that had hung somewhat too loosely at my hips, now fit perfectly. And the dress that was borderline snug to start with never even made it out of the suitcase. Why ruin a perfect vacation? As the Key Lime Pie Effect took hold, I had a momentary vanity attack. “Have I gone too far? Do I have skip dessert?” S told me my round tummy was ‘sexy’—and that was the icing on the pie.

Amy's Recipe for Key Lime Pie

Amy's Recipe for Key Lime Mousse