Until today, I never even wondered how chess pie got its name. If pressed, I would have had to assume it had some connection to the game of chess. Maybe it was a pie that didn’t have to be refrigerated so it could hang out by the chess board, saving chess players engaged in a long game from having to keep dashing to the refrigerator for refreshments. Instead, they could just lean over, grab a piece, and eat it out of hand, without even requiring a fork. It would definitely bump up brain activity, or at least contribute to enhanced short-term energy, given the high concentration of sugar in each slice.
This pie really is that good and that easy. It’s great picnic fare, as within reason, it doesn’t have to be kept icy and is technically a hand pie, if you define a hand pie as one that can be eaten utensil-free. It has cousins we’ve all heard of, named Egg Custard and Buttermilk Pie, each of which is a slight variation on the basic recipe but definitely in the same family.
Local lore debunks my assumption that the pie was named for the game of chess. Instead, the story goes that a cook on a plantation made up the pie recipe from ingredients she had readily on hand in the kitchen. When asked what the pie was, she replied, “Oh, it’s just pie.” When delivered in a deep southern accent, though, it might have come out as “Oh, it’s chess pie.” This, though, is not just any old pie.
Even so, it was not my favorite pie growing up. Kids typically shy away from the milky yellow gooey filling, but I think we all mature into chess pie lovers if given the chance. This is the pie, in fact, that you pass right by in the rush for the whipped cream topped strawberry confection, much like adolescent boys skip past the freckle-faced math whiz in the mad dash for the cheerleading squad. It might not be the prettiest pie at the bake sale, but for purity of taste and just downright satisfaction with no fuss, this one takes the cake—or pie. So does the math whiz, usually, which most boys grow to fully understand and deeply regret later in life.
Still another naming legend suggests that since chess pie filling is so similar to the English lemon curd pie that the word “chess” is actually a mashed-up form of “cheese,” which stems from “curd.” It would be a cheese-less cheesecake, basically. I think that’s a bit of a stretch, but it is the front-runner in the set of chess pie naming hypotheses. The suggestion that we would mispronounce cheese pie as chess pie, however, is the slightest bit insulting and way too far reaching, so I’m going to disqualify this one.
To be perfectly honest, the pie should just be called Sugar Pie, because that’s really what it is. And how can you top a pie made of sugar, eggs, and butter? That’s a rhetorical question of course, because we all know you can’t top that combination.
For this is not just any pie; it’s Chess Pie. Preferred by smart, chess-playing people, I’m sure.
Here you go!
Packaged pie crust
2 cups sugar
2 Tbsp. cornmeal
1 Tbsp. flour
¼ tsp. salt
½ cup butter, melted
¼ cup milk
1 Tbsp. white vinegar
½ tsp. vanilla extract
4 large eggs, lightly beaten
Powdered sugar for garnish
Fit packaged pie crust in a 9-inch pie plate. Line pastry with aluminum foil. Fill with dried beans or pie weights and bake at 425 degrees for 4 to 5 minutes. Remove weights and foil; bake 2 more minutes or until golden. Cool.
Stir together sugar, cornmeal, flour, salt, melted butter, milk, white vinegar, and vanilla extract until blended. Add eggs and stir well before pouring into pie crust.
Bake at 350 degrees for 50 to 55 minutes, shielding edges with aluminum foil after 10 minutes to prevent excessive browning. Cool completely on a wire rack. If desired, garnish with powdered sugar.
