I’ve got to tell you, chess pie has a way of sneaking up on you. The first time I had it, I didn’t think much of it—a pale little pie sitting next to the flashier pecan and chocolate ones at a family dinner. But then I took a bite. And just like that, I was hooked.
If you’ve never tried chess pie, it’s simple, sweet, and surprisingly rich. The filling is custard-like, creamy but with a slight texture thanks to a touch of cornmeal. It’s buttery, sugary, and has a hint of tanginess from buttermilk that keeps it from being too sweet. It’s the kind of dessert that feels old-fashioned in the best possible way, like something your grandmother might pull out of the oven without any fanfare, knowing it would still steal the show.
This is one of those recipes where you don’t need a mixer, fancy gadgets, or hard-to-find ingredients. If you’ve got a pie crust, butter, sugar, and a handful of staples, you’re halfway there. Let me walk you through how I make it.
Ingredients
First, here’s what you’ll need:
For the crust:
- 1 pie crust (store-bought or homemade—either works!)
For the filling:
- 1 stick (½ cup) unsalted butter, melted
- 1 ½ cups granulated sugar
- 6 large egg yolks
- ½ cup buttermilk (don’t skip this—it’s what gives the pie its signature flavor)
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- ¼ teaspoon salt
- 2 tablespoons cornmeal
- 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
Step 1: Prepare Your Crust
Let’s start with the crust. I’ll be honest—I’m not above using a store-bought crust when I’m in a rush, and it works just fine here. But if you’re feeling ambitious, a homemade crust is always a nice touch. Roll it out, press it into a 9-inch pie pan, and take a little time to shape the edges. I usually just crimp mine with my fingers, though if I’m lazy (or distracted by kids running through the kitchen), I’ll grab a fork and press a simple pattern around the edges.
Once the crust is in the pan, poke the bottom a few times with a fork—this step is called “docking,” and it helps prevent the crust from puffing up too much while it bakes. Line it with parchment paper and toss in some dried beans or pie weights to hold it down. Bake it at 375°F for about 15 minutes, just until the edges start to turn golden.
Oh, and here’s a tip: if you don’t have pie weights, those dried beans hiding in the back of your pantry work perfectly. I’ve been using the same bag of black beans for this for years.
Step 2: Make the Filling
While your crust is blind baking, let’s get to the good stuff—the filling. Start by melting your butter. I usually do this in the microwave, but if you’re the stovetop kind of person, go for it. Just let it cool for a couple of minutes once it’s melted; you don’t want it so hot that it scrambles the eggs. (source:Ineskohl.info)
In a mixing bowl, whisk the melted butter and sugar together. At first, it’ll look grainy—don’t panic, that’s how it’s supposed to be. Next, whisk in the egg yolks until the mixture looks smooth and glossy.
Now comes the buttermilk, vanilla, and salt. Pour them in and whisk until it’s all combined. The buttermilk is really what makes this pie special—it adds a slight tang that cuts through all the richness. Finally, sprinkle in the cornmeal and flour. These two ingredients help thicken the filling and give it a little texture. Stir everything together until you don’t see any lumps.
When it’s all mixed, the filling will be smooth and pourable, almost like pancake batter. And yes, it’s tempting to taste it at this point—but don’t. Raw eggs and all that.
Step 3: Fill and Bake
By now, your crust should be ready to go. Carefully remove the parchment paper and weights (those beans might still be hot, so be careful!). Pour the filling right into the warm crust—it should fit perfectly, coming up just below the edges.
Lower the oven temperature to 350°F and bake the pie for about 40 minutes. You’ll know it’s ready when the top is golden brown and the edges are set. The center might still jiggle slightly if you give the pie pan a little shake, and that’s okay. It’ll firm up as it cools.
Step 4: Cool and Slice
Now, here’s the hardest part: waiting. Chess pie needs time to cool completely so the filling can fully set. Let it sit on the counter for at least a couple of hours, though overnight is even better if you can wait that long.
Once it’s cool, slice it up and serve. You can add a dollop of whipped cream if you’re feeling fancy, but honestly, it’s perfect on its own. The top will have this thin, crackly crust, and the inside will be smooth, rich, and buttery.
A Few Tips
- Don’t skip the blind baking: The crust holds up so much better if you pre-bake it a little before adding the filling.
- Check your crust while baking: If the edges are browning too quickly, just cover them with foil. I’ve been known to rip off little pieces and patchwork them around the edges mid-bake.
- Use room-temperature ingredients: This helps everything blend smoothly. Plus, cold eggs straight from the fridge can cause the butter to clump up.
Leftovers?
If there’s any pie left (rare in my house), you can store it in the fridge for up to three days. It tastes amazing cold, straight from the fridge, or you can let it come to room temperature before serving again.
Why This Pie is Special
Chess pie feels like a warm hug. There’s no other way to describe it. It’s humble, simple, and yet so incredibly satisfying. It’s one of those desserts that doesn’t try to be flashy—it just quietly wins everyone over.
If you give this recipe a try, I hope it brings as much joy to your table as it does to mine. And if you’ve got any tips or traditions of your own when it comes to chess pie, I’d love to hear them. Happy baking!
