It's Just Pie

So, last weekend I tried my hand at an old Southern classic: The Chess Pie. Now, some Southern women might see it as blasphemous that a Yankee girl, like myself, might make this pie. But this is one, now slightly displaced, Yankee girl who just doesn't give one toot as to who can or can't make this pie.

So, Chess Pie...It's kinda like Shoofly Pie, in that you have no idea what kind of pie it is from the name. Not like the movies 'Snakes on a Plane' or 'Hot Tub Time Machine:' You know exactly what they will be about even before watching them. But Chess pie...mmm...I'm making it my new mission that everyone knows what it is.

Why? Cause it's good, that's why. You start with a basic crust, partially baked before even adding the filling. Then you fill it up to the top with a lemony custard. Pop it into the oven, and voila! You get something that looks like this:



I know, looks kinda weird; brown on the top, yellow on the inside. But, let me just ask you one question? When is the last time you ate a lemon bar that was made inside a pie crust?

See, now you're intrigued. This pie does taste quite like a lemon bar, but one bite and you know it's something that Paula Deen has probably made once or twice. It's thick and rich, creamy and sugary, full of eggs and butter.

Oh, and it's etymology: a few schools of thought: First, we, as Americans, are lazy with the English language, hence a pie that kept well in the pie chest, became chess pie. My favorite theory though begins with a Southern wife making her Southern husband a pie. She dished him out a slice. He took a wiff, and asked, in his deep south accent, "Honey, what kinda pie is this?" And she, with her deep south charm, answered, "It's just pie."

Now you try to say it with her accent.