Though I noted (somewhere in my online skimming) that snow is on the ground in all states but one today, it's the fluffy white-stuff of meringue that's appealing to me now. I'd just as soon eat it all raw, but a pan usually ends up in the oven because I like to defer gratification, too.
Raw meringue (and isn't meringue a lovely word in itself, worthy of being consumed like the delicacy it describes?) is smooth and fills one's mouth rather foam-like, reminiscent of marshmallow cream, but not as sweet or sticky. In fact, the meringue recipe I use calls for 2/3rds cup sugar, but I use only 1/8 cup, so I don't feel so bad about eating it all, and it's plenty sweet enough.
Once baked, the little puffs sound rather chalk-like if you gather a few in your hands and shake them, but they are not for writing. . . Instead, place one between your teeth and enjoy the lovely sensation of their disappearance, rather like cotton candy's act, yet somehow more satisfying because the ingredients are more wholesome and you've made them yourself.
