This is the 13th entry in our Month of Pie. Pie Month is a celebration of things we love. Because life is hard, and there should always be more pie. Have a look at the other entries. Really.
Pie #1 - Lemon Cream Icebox Pie
Pie #2 - Malted Crisp Tart
Pie #4 - Peanut Butter Cream Pie with Chocolate Whipped Cream
Pie #5 - Butterscotch Cream Pie with Gingersnap Crust and Cashew Brittle
Pie #6 - Banana Cream Pie with Chocolate Chip Cookie Crust
Pie #7 - Chocolate Kahlua Pie
Pie #8 - Bacon and Egg Pizza
Pie #9 - Pork Confit Pie with Creme Fraiche Potatoes and Puff Pastry
Pie #10 - Raspberry Pie and the Perfect Pie Crust
Pie #11 - Lime Pie with Gingersnap Crust
Pie #12 - Bourbon Sweet Potato Pie + Bourbon Whipped Cream and Warm Bourbon for Dipping
In Indiana, where I grew up, the ubiquitous pie is Old Fashioned Cream. I love this pie. It is simple, unadorned, oozing Shaker and Quaker simplicity, with a healthy dose of Amish and Mennonite reserve. The recipe is basic: butter, sugar, eggs, cream. With the right quality of ingredients, it is a revelation.
But then there is chess pie. Which the name alone threw me. As a Midwesterner, I’d never heard of it (shoo-fly, yes; chess pie, no). From what I gather, it is in the same vein as Old Fashioned Cream, with the focus on a pie made of pantry items. And several of our friends on Twitter were urging us to make chess pie for this Month of Pie. I was torn. If we weren’t making Old Fashioned Cream, how could I make chess? A terrible quandary, of course.
Leave it to the David Chang empire to resolve the issue for us. We’ve already written of our love from Chef Chang, his steamed buns (not a metaphor) and Brussels sprouts. The most famous pie of the last couple of years from the research we did is Momofuku Bakery & Milk Bar’s Crack Pie. A combination of old fashioned cream combined with chess pie at its soul, it cranks it up with a homemade oatmeal cookie crust. This pie retails for over $44 a pie. Which makes me incredibly happy that pie is in such demand. But immediately, our hype sensors go on alert.
To be honest, we were skeptical. The pie comes out brown. And low-slung. And the tiniest bit sad. This pie gets a rating of “looks 2, taste 10.” And, thankfully, the hype lives up to reality and to its name.
I took the first slice/bite of the crack pie on an empty stomach while standing over the kitchen sink. The first taste was happy, pleasant. A thin piece, it was gone in a matter of seconds. I thought, “Well, that was nice. Maybe we’ll post it, maybe we won’t.” Then three minutes later, the sugar rush kicked in. I felt like I was flying, the surge of power and happiness coursing through my veins.
I needed more pie. Immediately. I cut a bigger piece and really paid attention this time. The brown sugar is what pops first. Then the cream. Then the vanilla. Then the crunch of the oatmeal cookie crust. I could taste every single ingredient. There’s something brilliant about pie and being able to single out every ingredient separately and tasting them all at once, bouncing off your tongue, then waiting for the surge to kick in, again, a fix of pie.
I waited 10 minutes for my third piece, this one a little bigger.
And as I write this, I want to make another Crack Pie.
While it’s not as pretty as the other pies in the Month of Pie, its the one I think about the most. And the one I want to make first next month.
Make it for yourself. Test the hype. Become a believer. Don’t make this pie for a fancy dinner party. Make it for someone who already loves you, or you want to make love you. One slice, and they’re yours.