A wonderful bit of chocolatey deliciousness in a buttery pie crust

Over the 20-plus years we’ve been making it, Chocolate Chess Pie has quietly become a big favorite here at the Bakehouse. As the New York Times wrote a few years back, chocolate chess pie is “the perfect move for a gathering where some people want pie, some want chocolate and everyone wants something sweet.” Closer to home, it’s one of longtime Bakeshop manager Jake Emberling’s favorites (out of the hundreds of terrific treats we make regularly)!

The original recipes for chess pie call for lemon—what I imagine as essentially a “lemon curd” pie—and appear in the English author Hannah Glasse’s The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy from 1747. The history of chocolate chess pie is far shorter, since chocolate came into popular use in cooking and everyday eating only towards the latter part of the 19th century. Most likely, it would date to the early years of the 20th century. Which means that while Marie Curie was winning Nobel Prizes, some far less famous, and actually anonymous, American bakers began putting a chocolate custard into their pie shells in place of the more typical lemon. And the rest is culinary history! I’m not sure it’s Deep Understanding, but it is definitely delicious!

Our Chocolate Chess Pie is a rich and creamy baked chocolate custard in an all-butter crust. We use a very special local dark chocolate from Mindo Chocolate Makers in Dexter, Michigan that takes this pie over the top. It’s been described by some as “a brownie in a pie shell” and it’s definitely a staff favorite. I like to top it with toasted walnuts or hazelnuts. Great with a big dollop of homemade whipped cream. And/or you could gild the lily by serving a small scoop of chocolate or vanilla gelato on the side. Better still, adopt the Vermont tradition of pie for breakfast and start your day with it! However you eat it, it’s luscious, creamy, sweet, and wonderfully chocolatey!

Pick up pies

P.S. Looking ahead, Lemon Chess Pie will be emerging from Bakehouse ovens in January, just after the start of the new year—a great way to brighten a winter day!

My Life of Pie

Growing up in a food-centered household, each member of my family carried their own strengths in the kitchen. My mom reigned queen of banana bread, weeknight stir-fry, and Friday night honey chicken. My dad was the designated king of family get-togethers, holiday feasts, and Sunday night themed-dinners. My sister was, and still is, the baking superstar of the bunch, always knowing the exact moment to pull chocolate chip cookies out of the oven or just how much frosting with which to ice a birthday cake. And myself, well I guess you could say I was the floater, dabbling in all of these realms at one point or another.

However, there was one food in particular that was pretty much untouched within the LaKind family. One delectable, warm-my-soul, fill-me-with-more-happiness-than-I-know-what-to-do-with food that I could truly call my “specialty.” And it just so happens to be a food that will be gracing most of our tables at Thanksgiving dinner next week. Drumroll please…it’s PIE!

My love affair with pie developed gradually over the course of many annual summer trips to southwest Michigan and began with a game-changing strawberry rhubarb pie. Having seen the recipe on the Food Network’s website (the Facebook of my teens), and having never attempted a pie in my life, I figured why not? I already seemed to gravitate towards frustrating, labor-intensive cooking projects like homemade donuts, jars of jam, and even a fondant layer cake (yes, I actually attempted this at home and no, it was not my best work). Pie just seemed like the natural next endeavor. I mean they don’t call something “easy as pie” for nothing, right?
Oh Maddie, how very wrong you were.

While a good pie does only require a few key ingredients, what my naïve, amateur baker-self didn’t know at the time was just how many external factors have to be accounted for in order to create a perfect final product. Temperature, speed, elbow grease, and extreme patience are all key players in achieving that famous flaky crust and a well-balanced, well-textured filling (insert your favorite here). My first attempt at strawberry rhubarb pie wasn’t a complete failure by any means. I’m sure it was probably consumed in its entirety within an hour of coming out of the oven. But, looking back, there are so many things I could have done differently.
Lets examine Exhibit A, shall we?

Now, I knew my first attempt would present some roadblocks, but I don’t think I fully grasped the complexities of pie until I started baking it regularly. For the past four or five years, it has become my go-to dish for parties, holidays, and those casual nights when I need a stunning dessert in my life. After what I imagine are probably upwards of forty pies, I think I can say I’m at least beginning to hone my techniques.
So, lets take a look at Exhibit B.

Despite the improvements, what pie has taught me is that nothing is ever perfect. As with life, every pie is an experience, teaching you something you didn’t know beforehand and helping you learn in the process. While I can’t say I didn’t shed some serious tears over all the soggy crusts, loose fillings, under-baking, over-baking, weird lattices, and burnt messes I’ve encountered in this journey, I take pride in persistence and trying to become the best at something you love.

That’s what pie has done for me, and I couldn’t be more thrilled to honor it by indulging in all its pumpkin, pecan, or apple glory this week. So this Thanksgiving, I wish you all wonderful meals, good times with family and friends, and, of course, a sweet slice of your favorite pie at the end of the meal.
For me, it doesn’t get much better than that.

– Maddie

SMELL IT!
As much as 70-80% of what we perceive as taste comes from our sense of smell. Most of us here at Zingerman’s are familiar with this idea, as Ari’s been telling us for years to “smell it” as a key step in identifying great food. Here’s a fun exercise we do frequently in Zingerman’s Coffee Company classes to get people thinking about what they are smelling:

Give everyone a slice of orange and have them hold their nose closed and while they bite or chew the orange. Then, reminding them to keep holding their nose, ask them what they taste. Finally, ask them to let go of their nose. I’m not going to tell you what happens next, but I encourage you to try it and let us know. Oranges work well for this exercise, but you can also use anchovies!

COFFEE AND FOOD PAIRINGS FOR THE HOLIDAYS
Not sure what coffee to bring someone for the holidays? We teach a coffee and food pairing class for the public where you can try all kinds of ideas and combinations. You can also give the class to someone as a nice holiday gift!

Here are a couple of good pairings to get you started. As Steve and I are fond of saying, “there are no absolutes in coffee.” These are pairings that we’ve tried and we’d love for you to share some of your favorites.

Holiday Blend and Cranberry Walnut Pie
These two were made for each other, as they both have a nice balance of bitter, sweetness, and tart fruit. We were originally thinking of Hungarian tortes when we created the Holiday Blend this year, but I tried this pairing as an afterthought last week. I kept alternating between a forkful of pie and a sip of the coffee. Granted, I’ve been known to do this with most pies, but this particular combination was special. The Holiday Blend accentuates the flavors of the pie while moderating its sweetness. Very nice!

Sumatra and Zingerman’s Wowza Dark Chocolate Bar
Our high-grown Sumatran coffee is one of the darkest we roast. It’s flavor is earthy, wild, and dark. So how do you tame something like this? You get a good dark chocolate. I especially like it with a Wowza Bar from the Zingerman’s Candy Manufactory. (Thank you Charlie!) In general, dark chocolate works well with dark roast coffees, but WOW! This just pops!

Want to learn more about brewing coffee?
Take our Brewing Methods Class at the Zingerman’s Coffee Company. Sunday, December 16, 1-3pm.
Details here.