Chocolate Chess Pie – Pinterest Success

Since there is this whole phenomena called Pinterest Fails, I thought I’d start writing about some of the projects and recipes I find on Pinterest and actually attempt whether I fail or succeed.  “Actually attempt” being an important qualifier because my “Recipes To Try” board has the most pins –  445 pins to be exact.  No other board even comes close.

The recipe I tried wasn’t even one of the recipes that’s been sitting on my Recipes To Try board for . . . years.

It happened to be Pi Day, you know, March 14th.  3/14.  Pi=3.14lotsandlotsofothernumbers . . . In case you didn’t know about Pi Day and about how geeks like me like to make pie on/for Pi day.  Anyhow, it was March 14th, aka Pi Day, and I wanted to make pie.  And hadn’t really planned ahead.

Seeing as I’m busy and stressed, I didn’t want the pie to complicated and time consuming to make.  To Pinerest to find easy pie recipes!  Preferably chocolate flavored easy pie recipes.

As I was scrolling through all the pictures of different pies I saw one for Chocolate Chess Pie that looked like a good candidate.  It was chocolate, it looked simple to make, and I already had all the recipe components except the pie crust and the evaporated milk.  Well, I had butter, but it was salted, and the blogger who posted the recipe said she used unsalted butter.  I had to go to the store anyhow, so it was no big deal to pick up three extra items.

I don’t always follow recipes 100% exactly.  The only change I made to this one was to use a graham cracker crust.  Because it was cheaper.  If I’m remembering correctly she also said it’s best to leave it in the fridge overnight before serving.  I couldn’t wait more than a few hours.

This recipe was super easy to make.  And I managed to do it with minimal mess.  And, oh my gosh, so freaking delicious.  It’s like chocolate gooey goodness.

I had never heard of a chess pie before and was intrigued to learn more, so I looked it up.  I guess if I was from the South (the US one) I would have probably heard of Chess Pie.  Maybe.  According to Wikipedia it’s something more common in the South and I’m a California-native.  It’s originally from England and is a custard pie.  What makes standard chess pie special is the use of cornmeal.  In the version I used there was no cornmeal.  There was chocolate.  And it was good.

This is a delicious chocolate-flavored custard pie.  It is fudgy and yummy, and got the seal of approval from all the adults in the household.  We somehow didn’t get around to sharing with the toddler because we are horrible, selfish people.  I have been told by a certain member of the household that I should make this pie frequently.

Here is a picture.  The picture does not do justice to the yumminess.







Regarding the cat . . .


Fozzie is a cat. He is seven years old and we’ve been family for six and a half years. Before I met my partner, before we had our child, it was me and Fozzie. We’ve been through a  lot together.  Our bond is strong.

Sure, he’s what I like to call an equal opportunity lap kitty.  Meaning he’ll sit on any lap, but I’d like to think my lap is his favorite lap.

As my partner and I plan for a transatlantic move, whether Fozzie will join us on this adventure has become one of the great questions of life.

To me Fozzie is part of our family.  He was my fur baby before I had a human baby.  When I adopted him I never even considered any other option that that it would be forever.

The other side of the argument.  In what is already going to be an expensive endeavor, bringing him is an additional financial burden.  More importantly, a potentially traumatizing experience for Fozzie.  Once we get there he most likely will not be able to live with us and will have to stay with my partner’s parents a three to four hour drive away because most landlords do not allow pets.

Coming to terms with the fact that we may need to find him a new family, that the best thing for HIM is to find him a new family, is already causing a Fozzie-shaped hole to form in my heart.

I told my partner that once we are settled into a new home I want to get a fish.  A black fish.  And we shall name it Fozzie.


He broke up with me over a pay phone . . .

I know what you’re going to say. It’s a punchline I’ve heard many times now. “There are still payphones?!”

Yes, there are still payphones.

This payphone lived outside the 7-Eleven across the street from the one-screen movie theater he worked at. The movie theater I used to work at. The place where we met.

That night we had plans. I had just spent a week out of town and he had the evening off. We were supposed to spend time together.

Instead I waited alone at home. And waited. And waited.

He finally called. He was calling me from the payphone because his phone battery had died. He said he wasn’t coming home and that he thought we should talk about breaking up. I asked why, shouldn’t he come home so we could talk about it. He said he was about to run out of time on the payphone but he would call me from the phone at the theater a few minutes later.

I waited. And waited. I called a friend. I waited some more.

Hours later, after watching the film that was playing at the theater, he finally called me from the phone in the theater’s office. To tell me he couldn’t talk because the manager was there.

After a sleepless night and a failed attempt to go to work, I was sent home early so I could go find him and talk to him.

I had to go to the theater to confront him.

In summary, deciding that our relationship was doomed, but unable to just come home and talk to me about it, the man had spent the day of the payphone breakup getting drunk and hooking up with some random girl before calling me from outside the 7-Eleven.

As if just saying he wanted to break up and his reasons for the decision weren’t enough, he needed to do something more dramatic.

He needed to push the self-destruct button on our relationship in unforgettable style.

He broke up with me over a payphone.

Yes. There are still payphones.