Homestead Chess Pie

I've heard of chess pie for years, but have never seen one nor had the opportunity to try a slice. I don't recall ever even having seen a recipe for chess pie.

The most intriguing ingredient is a tablespoon of vinegar (Ken Haedrich says that either cider or white vinegar would work; I had cider vinegar on hand). I've had vinegar pie before in Tennessee -- keep an eye out in May for this treat -- but other than that I've never heard of vinegar in a dessert.

Assembly of this pie was simple: the shell is unbaked before filling, and the filling is just whisked together cold and poured in to the shell. I would recommend fully softening the butter before adding. I tried to rush things, resulting in big chunks of butter (although I'm not sure if this made any difference in the result).

The recipe from Pie calls for baking 30-35 minutes until a knife inserted at the center comes out clean. After 35 minutes, the pie had browned slightly, but was still very 'jiggly' and my tester came out wet. I thought the pie might set up as it cooled (and it was getting late), so I pulled it out and set it on the rack.

After the first baking

The next morning, I went to check on the pie. While the top 'crust' (a result of the tablespoon of cornmeal in the filling) had firmed up slightly, the filling still wobbled around underneath. I was almost ready to declare this a failure, but having nothing to lose, I stuck it back in the oven for 25 minutes. The pie browned a little more, but was still very loose. Once again, I pulled it out and let it cool.

After the second baking - still wobbly!

The second time around, the pie definitely firmed up after cooling. Cutting into it, the filling was very yellow, almost like a lemon pie. The flavor of vinegar is definitely present, but it's not off-putting. This pie is thin and sweet - almost sweet for sweet's sake.

Chess pie - at least this recipe - isn't my favorite, but it has the definite advantage of being a quick pie to pull together from the pantry. If I try this again sometime, I think I'll swap lemon juice for the vinegar, and I'm interested to see how this compares to my collected lemon pie recipes in a couple months.

UPDATE: I baked this pie on a Wednesday night and Thursday morning. After having multiple samples between myself and Tiffany, and sharing with some visitors, I decided on Sunday (after a breakfast pie-binge - more on that later) to toss the remaining third of the pie.* As noted above, this is a sweet pie, and we didn't really need it hanging around. 

I couldn't resist taking one last bite as I was throwing it out. It was surprisingly better than I recalled. After the second bake and cool, I stored it in the fridge, more out of habit than anything. Saturday morning, I moved the pie onto the counter to make room for other things. I'm not sure whether it was the three days since being baked or the full day at (cool) room temperature, but the vinegar flavor had mellowed significantly. Still sweet, no doubt, but more rounded (if that makes sense).

If you're going to tackle this pie, I would recommend NOT refrigerating it and perhaps even waiting a day or two before serving. One possible etymology of 'chess' pie is a corruption of 'chest' pie, as in pie chest (or pie safe), as in "keeps well in a pie chest" - I can certainly see why.

*Yes, we threw away pie. We are trying to lose weight, after all! I'm serious about the standing invitation - if you're in the area and know how to get a hold of me, stop by for some pie! Odds are we've got something lying around to sample.

Next time: Fruit pies at long last!

Coconut Cream & Coconut Custard

...or "A Tough Nut To Crack."

This weekend, I tackled the coconut pies again. You may remember that my last outing with Coconut Cream Pie ended in miserable failure. You, dear reader, deserve better, and I do have a project to complete. I figured I would give it one more shot, with some modifications.

It is interesting to note that the ingredients for both the Coconut Cream and Coconut Custard Pies are nearly identical. A bit less sugar in the custard, half the vanilla (though I only put one teaspoon of vanilla in the cream pie 'cause I ran out!), and less water (which was significant), but largely the same.

Ignore the crusts on both these pies. I used store-bought refrigerated crusts and rushed/shortcut them, so they turned out weird, but the pies still tasted fine! I trust that you will take more care with your flaky pastries.

Coconut Cream Pie

The last time, I prepared the pie according to recipe (or so I thought), cooking the filling in a double boiler. It was only supposed to take 4 minutes to thicken; after 20 minutes or so, I just dumped it in the shell, floated the meringue on top, and hoped it would set up in the oven.

Or not:

The rest of the filling was pretending to be soup in the pie plate.

This time, I cooked the filling over direct heat, just like all of the other cream pies I've done. It took about seven or eight minutes to set up, and it was still on the thin side, but the filling was definitely firm enough to appear correct. I rushed the meringue a bit, so it was thin too, although it spread nicely over the pie. A sprinkle of coconut and this very white pie was ready to bake (30 minutes @ 325°).

Success! The finished pie was a gorgeous golden brown, with a light texture that belies its caloric load (seems to be a pattern). My primary caution would be to chill this pie before serving; the refrigerated slice the next day was all-around better than the counter-cooled slice.

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Coconut Custard

The first difference between the cream and custard pies arose when I was supposed to "combine the eggs, sugar, cornstarch, and water to form a smooth paste." With only one teaspoon of water (and three yolks) to moisten a combined cup of sugar and cornstarch, the result was more like wet sand than smooth paste.

No matter. I figured I would just ladle some of the hot milk into my sand so it would incorporate better.


Right...

I've tempered eggs before and have never had a problem, but hot milk into this mixture resulted in little pebbles of something (probably cornstarch) in my filling! A quick trip through the sieve sorted that out, but I was now concerned that too much of the thickening agents had been lost to clumpage. Would the custard still come together?

It did, and five minutes early, to boot. The consistency was more like a normal pudding than the thick creams we've been making lately. Interestingly, there is no coconut in the filling itself - it's really just a plain custard base. The coconut goes in the parbaked pie shell and on top of the filling once in the shell.

After the better part of an hour, the pie should be done. My hunch is that the longer cook time and the lack of a protective meringue topping helps the filling to set up more solidly - that's probably the major difference between the two coconut pies.

The flavor is good on the custard pie, but I could stand more coconut presence. This is another thin pie - if you're looking for impressive height, look elsewhere.

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The verdict? I liked the Coconut Cream Pie better - more flavor, more volume, but more calories. Overall, I enjoy a good slice of coconut pie, but these were bit more trouble than they're worth. I think I'll save my coconut pie consumption for the restaurant scene.

Next time: Checkmate!

Vanilla Cream Pie

They don't come much simpler or more basic than this. Vanilla cream/thickpudding, graham cracker crust, and sweetened whipped cream on top.

Ken Haedrich describes Vanilla Cream Pie thusly:

"A monument to solid, uncomplicated, middle-American cuisine, this pie should be in every cook's repertoire."

Really, the hardest part of this pie (aside from the hours of waiting for things to cool down) was assembling the crust. This was my first press-in crumb crust - crushed graham crackers, cinnamon(!), and melted butter. It came out fine, but it was frustrating to attempt an even coverage. The crust ended up being a bit thick in the corners. No matter, because the taste and texture were great.

I might think about using a store-bought graham cracker crust next time, although Tiffany commented that the uneven coarseness of my crushed crackers (no food processor here) was a positive, and I love the the cinnamon flavor in the crust.

The filling is very simple to make - everything gets combined on top of the stove until thick. Keep a close eye on it, though; the cream goes from milky to appropriately stiff in a wink.

Be sure to chill this pie thoroughly - cold shell, cold filling, cold whipped cream - before serving. Skip this and chance a soupy slice.

The taste of this pie is very light, dare I say, ethereal. The calories, however, are not. I will try this pie again without the whipped cream - maybe a honey-cinnamon meringue instead? - to lighten up the caloric impact some. This is definitely a pie I want to play around with, substituting more healthy (although it's still pie - perhaps "less unhealthy" is more appropriate) ingredients and see what I get.

As a side note, the first slice I had was about ¹⁄₁₂ of the pie and was almost enough. I had an eighth of the pie the next day, and it was almost too much (and left a greasy feel on my lips, probably from the whipped cream topping). I'd try tenths next time, though good luck getting even slices.

Two other notes, both of which result from my failure to read the recipe closely enough. First, the original recipe calls for the use of a 9¹⁄₂-inch pan; I plunged ahead with my standard 9-inch and everything worked out just fine. Second, I forgot to dust nutmeg over the top of the finished pie! I love nutmeg and regret not adding it. Oh well, I guess I'll just have to make it again!

Chocolate Cream Pie

Only one pie ended up making it to our church's Super Bowl Party, but it was certainly well received. This week's offering comes from Mr. Haedrich: Chocolate Cream Pie with Cinnamon Meringue. I'm developing quite the fondness for meringues, and they're dead simple to whip up.

Combine 2.25c milk, 1.25c sugar, 0.33c cornstarch, 2oz chopped chocolate*, 3 egg yolks (save the whites!), and a quarter-teaspoon of salt in a large saucepan. Whisk constantly over medium heat until uniformly chocolate-brown and boiling, then cook for two minutes more. Remove from the heat and stir in the vanilla. Pour into a cooled 9-inch pie shell and top with cinnamon meringue. Bake 8-10 minutes @ 350° until meringue is lightly browned. Cool on a wire rack and serve either barely warm or chilled (don't cover it in the fridge).

Cinnamon Meringue: Beat three room-temperature egg whites and 1/4 tsp cream of tartar to soft peaks. Add in a mixture of 0.25c sugar and one half-teaspoon of cinnamon, a little at a time, beating until incorporated. The meringue should end up thick, glossy, and not dry.

-from Pie by Ken Haedrich

For everything that went wrong with the Coconut Cream Pie, this pie was a cinch to put together. The filling cooks up in short order to create the Best. Chocolate Pudding. Ever. In fact, whenever you hear "cream pie" just substitute "pudding pie" in your brain, although "cream pie" sounds more civilized. Seriously, I think I'm going to look up this recipe for the next time I'm in a pudding mood. Forget the crust - just give me a pan of filling, a spoon, and ten minutes to myself. I wonder how it would be with butterscotch chips or cinnamon chips or different extracts besides vanilla (rum? almond? mint?)

Anyone else thinking of Bill Cosby?

Once the filling is cooked, the pie is nearly done. The shell is pre-baked, so it's a matter of dump and go - no baking of the filling. Whip up the meringue, which is stunning with the little flecks of cinnamon, spread it on top (so much easier when the filling sets up!), and run it into the oven just to make the meringue look irresistible.

The smell of cinnamon when this comes out is great. After cooling, slice up the pie (I suggest twelfths - plenty of pie in a portion) and enjoy the spicy foaminess of the meringue with the unctuousness of the chocolate pudding filling. Really, the crust is just there to hold it all in on this one.

I think we may have a new favorite around here, but I'll have to make it again to check. ;-)

*Need I mention that the better the chocolate, the better the chocolate cream/pudding? That said, if all you have lying around the pantry are Toll House morsels, go for it! You won't be sorry.

Next time: The "Opposite" of Chocolate

A Tragedy in Three Acts

If you ever wondered where baking and Scots poetry intersected, look no further. This weekend's comedy of errors certainly had me thinking of old Robbie Burns:

The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men/
Gang aft agley,/
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain

Brown Sugar Pie from the Attic

Our second pie from the venerable Mrs. Rowe: Brown Sugar Pie from the Attic. The name apparently refers to the location of the trove in which the recipe was found. Whose attic it was I do not know, but he or she will not see me stopping here to sample this amazingly delicious pie. (Sorry Mr. Frost!)

We just call it Brown Sugar Pie around here - a rose by any other name, and all that, you know. As I mentioned yesterday I could call it Shoe Leather Pie and Isaac would still scarf it down.

Cream together 1c brown sugar and 1 stick butter. Stir in 3T AP flour, a pinch of salt, ¼c sweetened condensed milk, 2 eggs, and 1t vanilla extract. Blend by hand until smooth, pour into a parbaked pie shell, then bake at 350° for 45 minutes. Cool ½ hour on a wire rack; serve immediately.

-from Mrs. Rowe's Little Book of Southern Pies by Mollie Cox Bryan

Upon reading this recipe, I was surprised at the first instruction. Cream butter and sugar? That's cookies, right?

In a word, yes. And the result of this step does look like cookie dough.

Add chocolate chips and stop here, if desired.

As a side note, I was out of unsalted butter. I used salted instead, left out the pinch of salt called for, and the results seemed fine.

Next, add in everything else and combine until smooth. Have patience, and add things one at a time - they incorporate better that way.

...although mixing the milk and vanilla doesn't hurt anything

Here's a quandary: the recipe calls for only a quarter-cup of condensed milk, but condensed milk comes in 14-ounce cans. I offer two options - either Vietnamese coffee (or a reasonable facsimile thereof- I wish I had a proper filter but my Keurig and a strong K-cup are passable) or make more Brown Sugar Pies to share!

Even with the relatively small amount of milk, the completed filling has a pronounced condensed milk flavor. The filling seemed scant for my 9" pie plate, and my crust was certainly taller than it needed to be. Next time, I'll build up the crust even with the walls of the plate and let it go at that.

While we're on the subject of crust, I'll confess that I used a boxed crust again this week. For last week, it didn't seem to matter much, but this time, the flavor was a bit flat. Next time I make Brown Sugar Pie (because there will be a next time), I'll also make the crust from scratch - perhaps with a nutty pastry crust.

This pie cooks up dark, but don't worry - it tastes wonderful! Test for doneness with a pick at the center: if it's clean, pull the pie out. The flavor is very like a nutless pecan pie; Tiffany even mentioned that a handful of crushed pecans added on top just before baking would be good. She's not a pecan pie fan, but the texture of this filling is firmer than your typical pecan pie.

It's hard to wait to serve this, but a half-hour on a wire rack will firm up the center and keep your palate from being scalded by molten sugar. I think the flavor is best while it's still a little warm. Refrigeration compressed the pie and muted the richness; 30 seconds in the microwave mostly revived a slice, but it still wasn't quite there.

This is post-fridge. Denser, but still worth eating.

I also recommend serving this in slightly smaller pieces - probably 10 or so from a 9" pie. Smaller pieces tend to lose structural integrity; larger pieces will completely wreck your diet.

Next time: "A monument to middle-American cuisine"

Cinnamon Sugar Pie

Sunday is National Pie Day (as proclaimed by the American Pie Council, "the only organization committed to preserving America's pie heritage and promoting American's love affair with pies"). In honor of this heritage-rich, tradition-laden holiday, I'll be making next week's pie and perhaps experimenting with crust recipes. It's my civic duty, after all.

This week's pie is a bit different from the others I've made so far. Cinnamon Sugar Pie comes from a cookbook that I stumbled across whilst on Christmas holiday in Virginia. Mrs. Rowe's Little Book of Southern Pies catalogs some of the traditional pie recipes from a little restaurant in western Virginia. My uncle Butch, who owns the cookbook and recommends the Margarita Pie (or was it the Strawberry Daiquiri Pie?), suggested stopping by the place on our way through, but alas, schedules did not permit an in-person research session.

The recipe looks similar to the Sugar Cream Pie from last week, which is the current reigning champ in our household. The major differences are the addition of eggs and a boatload of spices - our first impression of the filling was 'pumpkin pie without the pumpkin'. It set up rather firm and custard-like, as one would expect from the eggs.

My first meringue! I decided to tackle it by hand rather than break out the KitchenAid. I don't have a copper bowl, but it seemed to go pretty easily anyhow. My arm only ached slightly upon achieving 'stiff peaks'. Further research/experimentation is needed though - the meringue pulled away slightly from the crust upon baking (maybe spread too thin at the edge?) and was very sticky to slice through (too much sugar?).

Anyone else thinking of Ghostbusters right about now?

Twenty minutes later, and I have suntanned Peeps on my pie.

My sous chefs approved of the meringue. And to all those grandparents following along at home, the children suffered no ill effects from consuming raw egg whites.

Animal prints + flowers + polka dots = chic

As noted above, the meringue made for messy slicing - as did the unexpectedly light texture of the filling. It firmed up somewhat upon refrigeration, but the whole thing was more chiffon-y than I expected. It will be interesting to compare this pie to the chiffon pies that I have planned for the summer. The taste was good - nice and spicey from the cinnamon, allspice, and cloves - but the texture was off-putting (I'm not a big fan of chiffon pies). We only got through half the pie, then I ate the meringue off the top and pitched the rest.

Happy National Pie Day! Go make a pie, eat a pie, or stop by my place and have a piece of pie - I need to get rid of it!

Next up: Cookie confusion.

Indiana Buttermilk and Ivy House Indiana Sugar Cream Pies

Our Sugar and Cream theme continues this week with two entries from the Hoosier State. I guess they must like their pies down there in Indiana. Maybe it's the Amish influence? Maybe it's just good old-fashioned Midwest hospitality?

Both of these pies, Indiana Buttermilk Pie and Ivy House Indiana Sugar Cream Pie, come from Haedrich's Pie, and I would classify both of these as pantry pies (all ingredients typically on hand), presuming that you live in a household that keeps buttermilk around on a fairly regular basis.

Buttermilk Pie: Given the questionable results of the Amish Milk Pie last week, I was concerned about buttermilk pie, as the ingredients list is nearly similar. The buttermilk pie swaps out buttermilk (natch) for the evaporated milk and adds a generous helping of eggs. Chief among the differences, though, is that all of the ingredients are blended together before pouring into the parbaked pie shell - no oozy separation of layers here.

Buttermilk & butter; sugars, flour, & salt; eggs & vanilla

I did find it critical to have the buttermilk not refrigerator cold. When I added the melted butter to the cold buttermilk, the butter set up into chunks - not the nice smooth liquid that it should be! A quick zap in the microwave took care of that and assembly continued unhindered.

The crust for this pie shrank quite a bit in the process of par-baking - so much so that I was nervous that the filling wouldn't all fit. But it ended up nearly perfect. The filling doesn't expand much at the edges, and although the center puffs up quite a bit, it settles back flat when cooled.

That's one puffy pie! Soufflé, anyone?

The recipe calls for cooking "until golden brown and set, about 40 minutes." I kept my pie in the oven almost 15 minutes past the recommended 40, waiting for golden brown. My patience was rewarded with a gorgeous looking pie. The color is strongly reminiscent of perfectly done yellow cornbread.

To my tongue, the flavor of this pie was difficult to nail down. There is a definite tang from the buttermilk, but besides that, it's rather unique. Tiffany mentioned that it tastes like Danish butter cookies (I didn't make the connection, but that's just me). Overall verdict - if offered a piece when in Shipshewana or Terre Haute, I'd probably give it a whirl, but I don't think I'll keep this one in my personal repertoire.

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Ivy House Indiana Sugar Cream Pie: The mouthful of a name for this pie comes from a bed-and-breakfast just outside Indianapolis, from which Ken Haedrich collected this recipe as representative of a regional favorite dessert. I'll start out by saying this is a fabulous pie, well-received by all that sampled it, and if it weren't so darned caloric, I'd almost keep this around every week.

In reviewing the recipe, I was struck by its similarity to a vanilla pudding I had made just the night before. I'd never made pudding from scratch and the recipe came across by blog reader - I had everything on hand, so why not? It only dawned on me later that it makes perfect sense - all those boxes of Jell-O chocolate pudding I grew up on always said (in small print) "pudding and pie filling" - we just never made it far enough to put it in a crust!

Back to the pie. I enjoyed the pie filling much more than the pudding. It came out smoother; my hunch is that mixing the sugar, cornstarch, butter, and milk together before heating (pie) left less room for grainy error than adding hot milk to the dry ingredients (pudding). In truth, the pie filling was closer to pastry cream than pudding, but give me a bowl of pastry cream any day and I'll be happy. (I may even re-purpose the cream as a cake layer filling - but that's another story).

As one might imagine, sugar is a critical ingredient.

Who needs crust?

Once filled, this pie does not go back into the oven. The pastry cream filling goes into a fully baked crust, then the whole assembly goes into the chill chest to firm up (if you can wait that long!). I made the filling while the crust was baking, but as the crust cooled, the filling set up quite a bit. Next time, I think I would hold off on cooking the filling until the crust was out of the oven and on the cooling rack.

As one might imagine, the flavor of the Sugar Cream Pie is amazing. Creamy and rich, you taste every calorie, but you don't care. I recommend serving slim slices with fresh berries (we had strawberries and blueberries in the house) and perhaps a dollop of whipped cream on top. I even had some for breakfast one morning and didn't think it all inappropriate.

Next time: Sugar and spice, but is it nice?

Amish Milk Pie

Note: To try and lend some semblance of organization to a year of pie, I've grouped various pies together (it also allows some easier comparisons). Each month or pair of months will be dedicated to a different "type" of pie, with seasonal ones sorted out to their seasons as best as I can manage. January and February are my "Sugar and Cream" months.

Our premiere pie is Amish Milk Pie, a rather simple creation. This is a single crust pie that's kinda hard to classify - it's not quite custard, definitely not cream. The bottom layer is almost like the gel in a pecan pie, but more solid. Gold stars for being a "pantry pie" - one would likely have all the ingredients on hand regardless of the season - and once you have the crust ready, this could go from pantry to plate in about 2 hours (after chilling - a critical step).

sugars and flour

"drizzled" evap milk

cinnamon, pre-clumps

The filling is basic - brown and white sugars, a bit of flour, with evaporated milk "drizzled" on top. I would offer that 1¼ cups of milk is a bit more than drizzling, but the general idea is not to mix the milk with the dry ingredients. You sprinkle the pie with cinnamon before baking; I found that in the translation from counter to oven, the cinnamon floated together into clumps on the sea of evap milk, so it's not the prettiest thing. (My first thought was 'Moon' Pie - no, not that one.)

see the resemblance? -->

My recipe (from Ken Haedrich's tome on the subject, aptly titled Pie) warns that the filling will be soupy when the baking is done. I'll say! The evaporated milk doesn't really set up at all, and the two tablespoons of dotted butter on top doesn't help matters. The milk did form a thin skin across the top, but you could see the hidden lake below and it broke through in a few places (see the photo above).

The recipe also notes that the pie should cool 30 minutes before serving, with leftovers refrigerated and later warmed slightly to take off the chill. I vote for refrigerating before serving any of it, as the cold helps it to set up. Without that, the pie is very runny and the area of the removed slice fills in with a disconcerting buttery-milky liquid.

Be aware - this pie is crazy sweet. If you've ever sampled sweetened condensed milk on its own, that will give you a good idea of the flavor and intense sweetness of this pie. (And the texture, sort of). The pie is also rather thin (½ to ¾ inch), but that's probably a good thing to avoid lapsing into a sugar coma. I strongly encourage you to cut this pie into small pieces (sixteenths would not be out of the question) and serve with strong black coffee.

A brief note on the crust. The recipe says to "sculpt the pastry into an even band, just below the rim" of the pie plate. Being a nervous crust newbie, I elected to just trim the crust off at the edge of the plate. After baking the pie, the filling was quite a bit below the crust, resulting in a tenuous cracker-like crust edge that toppled when the slice was cut. If I make this again, I would certainly trim the crust inside the rim of the plate.

Next week: A Hoosier State two-fer plate.