Throwback of the House: Hot in Herre Orange Mallow Refrigerator Pie

This weekend I'm jetting to slightly-less-hot Philadelphia, and I planned to make a vegetable scrapple from a southwestern cookbook.

I couldn't do it, though, because scrapple, like haggis, should never be vegetarian. Also, it's hot, and I don't want anything boiling for an hour anywhere near me.

Which means that, finally, I get to bust out Cooling Dishes for Hot Weather for some Orange Mallow Refrigerator Pie.

Make a graham-cracker crust. Or, if you're like me and turn into a lazy-ass as soon as the mercury strikes 80, buy a premade one.

In a double boiler, melt half a pound of marshmallows with a cup of orange juice. Chill.

Whip half a cup of heavy cream to soft peaks, fold into orange mixture, dump into pie crust, and garnish with crumbled graham crackers.

Or, if you're also a hot-weather lazy-ass and used a premade crust, garnish with stale, decapitated Teddy Grahams. Orange-slice candies would work well, too.

Evidence of global warming: It must have been much cooler in 1956 because standing over a double boiler in the time it takes to melt all of those marshmallows will induce heat stroke. Other than that, I've got to say this is one delicious recipe. I'm biased, though. It tastes like baby aspirin, which is one of my favorite flavors, behind Maytag blue cheese and bacon. A handful of St. Joseph's Chewables would make a lovely, chic polka-dot garnish.

While waiting for the pie to chill, I thought it odd that this recipe didn't contain a heaping dose of gelatin. Oh, but it does! Marshmallows are loaded with gelatin. Pretty sneaky. Almost Rachel Ray-esque in its deviousness.

Which reminds me, while I was getting brain damaged from the double boiler's heat, I had a brilliant idea. Instead of orange juice, use Yoo-Hoo! S'mores Pie with four ingredients!

I'm a genius! I'm ... Rachael Ray and everything I've ever loathed.

Excuse me while I sit in the corner with my self-loathing and my pie.

Robin Wheeler writes the blog Poppy Mom. After years of making and eating fancy food, Robin is sick of it all. She's returning to the basics: recipes that haven't surfaced in three decades. She reports on the results for Gut Check every Tuesday.