Chocolate Chip Cookie Pie

November arrived and brought its chill and its gratitude, both of which I welcome because November is the month the kitchen works hardest and shines brightest. Thanksgiving is coming, which means I have already started my planning, which means I have been making lists in my head since October and on paper since Monday. The Thanksgiving list is the master document of my year. It is more carefully composed than Calvin's sermons, more thoroughly edited than anything Destiny writes for school, and more sacred to me than almost anything except Scripture and Mama's handwritten recipe cards.

This week I cooked for a funeral — Sister Margaret Bell, ninety-one, who died peacefully in her home surrounded by her children and grandchildren, which is the death we all pray for and few of us get. Sister Margaret had been at New Hope since before Calvin was pastor. She remembered the old building in Ensley. She remembered when the congregation was sixty people and the roof leaked. She told me once that my fried chicken was the reason she stayed at New Hope when her daughter tried to get her to switch to the Baptist church across town. I took that as the highest compliment I have ever received, and I mean that sincerely.

The repast was the standard: fried chicken, collard greens, mac and cheese, cornbread, pound cake. I added sweet potato pie because Sister Margaret loved my sweet potato pie and once told me it tasted like going home. When I put that pie on the table I whispered: this one's for you, Sister Margaret. Travel well. The Lord's table has good food but mine is better, and you know it. I believe the dead can hear us when we talk to them over food. I believe food is the frequency that reaches both sides of eternity.

Marcus is studying for midterms. He comes home from school and goes straight to the kitchen table, where he spreads out his books and works while I cook. We do not talk much during these sessions. The companionship is in the shared space — his pencil scratching, my spoon stirring, the clock ticking, the mutual understanding that work done in the presence of someone who loves you is lighter than work done alone.

Made a pot of chili this weekend because the weather demanded it and because Calvin asked, and a wife who never cooks what her husband requests is a wife who is making a point, and I am not making a point, I am making chili. My chili has ground beef, pinto beans, kidney beans, tomatoes, onion, garlic, chili powder, cumin, and a tablespoon of cocoa powder that nobody knows about and everybody tastes without knowing they are tasting it. The cocoa adds depth. It makes the chili taste like it has been thinking about something important, which is exactly what good chili should do.

The cocoa powder in my chili got me thinking about chocolate in an entirely new way this week — the way it hides in something savory and makes everything richer without announcing itself, which is exactly what a good cook does and exactly what a good friend does and, if you believe what I believe, exactly what grace does. So when it came time to bake something sweet for the family after all the grief and the studying and the November cold, I turned to this Chocolate Chip Cookie Pie, because it is the dessert version of that same truth: chocolate running all the way through, warm from the oven, holding everything together. Sister Margaret would have had two slices and told me not to tell her doctor.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 55 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 10 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 unbaked 9-inch pie crust (store-bought or homemade)
2 large eggs
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon salt
Vanilla ice cream or whipped cream, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Heat your oven to 325°F. Fit the unbaked pie crust into a 9-inch pie dish and crimp the edges as desired. Set aside.
Beat the eggs. In a large mixing bowl, beat the eggs with a hand mixer or stand mixer on medium speed until they are light and foamy, about 1 minute.
Add sugars and flour. With the mixer running on low, gradually add the granulated sugar, brown sugar, and flour. Mix until just combined.
Blend in butter and vanilla. Add the softened butter and vanilla extract. Beat on medium speed until the mixture is smooth and creamy, about 2 minutes. Stir in the salt.
Fold in chocolate chips. Using a rubber spatula, gently fold in the chocolate chips, distributing them evenly throughout the batter.
Fill the crust. Pour the batter evenly into the prepared pie crust, smoothing the top with your spatula.
Bake. Place the pie on the center rack and bake for 50–55 minutes, until the top is golden brown and the center is set but still has a slight jiggle — like a pecan pie. If the crust edges begin to brown too quickly, cover them loosely with foil after the first 30 minutes.
Cool before slicing. Allow the pie to cool on a wire rack for at least 30 minutes before slicing. It will firm up as it cools. Serve warm with a scoop of vanilla ice cream or a dollop of whipped cream.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chocolate Chip Cookie Pie — The Secret Ingredient That Brings Everything Together