VN's Chocolate Pie

My mother-in-law Velma came to visit us in Savannah in the summer 1976, when EJ was about 3 months old.  She was never a hardy traveler and was reluctant about traveling too far from home, but the desire to hold her first grandchild gave her courage to make the one thousand mile trip on a plane.

While EJ napped one day, I cornered her in the tiny row house  kitchen and begged her to teach me to make her delicious (and my favorite) chocolate pie.  It was a task!  The first problem: I was a horrible cook with little experience.  The second problem: she never measured anything and was a very experienced cook.  After several tries of measuring handfuls of four and salt, we finally wrote the recipe.  Below is a photo of the original card, written in my hand.

I've made the pie many times over the last forty years.  Each time I wait for the chocolate to boil in the pan and breathe in the rich flavor as I stir, I can hear Velma encouraging me to wait until it is thick and smooth before I stop stirring.  I can feel her presence as I smooth the dark, rich custard into the pie crust and pile the meringue on top. 

As we browned the meringue in the oven, she told me the story of the neighbor who lived down the road in her childhood small town who didn't brown the meringue on her pies but left it raw. Velma said it was like cow slobber!

I can still hear the laughs we shared in the little kitchen on Price Street in Savannah, that day over forty years ago.  We were a fairly new relationship then, daughter-in-law and mother-in-law, just two years into my marriage to her son.  As the years flew by three more babies came quickly, and many more chocolate pies were stirred up on the stove.  The love I shared with my mother-in-law grew with each passing year. I pray my four daughters-in-law love me half as much as I loved her.