
"Pecans" by Cedric Smith.
That evening, there were lots of us, mostly food writers. It was late and we had ordered one of almost everything on the menu. Plates were passed, favorites were announced, and the pecan pie emerged as the favorite of the favorites. Another slice was ordered, but by then, the pecan pie was sold out. It was almost closing time and there was no more. So, as a dessert for the crawfish boil our friend Brooks was planning, we ordered a whole pie to be picked up in time for the weekend.
In the interim, we discussed what made the pie so good. Had to be lard in the crust, we concluded. You can't get it that flaky with only butter, because there's water in butter and the chemists say the butter cuts down your flakiness by some calculable percentage. And the crust had to be baked a little before the filling was added. And the ratio of pecans to filling: It wasn't that tarted-up, camera-ready, one-layer-of-whole-pecans-on-the-top type of thing. It was "right," though, owing to the lateness of the hour, no one troubled to define "right."
As a pecan-pie fan and native of New Orleans, the city that (perhaps wrongly) is credited with having birthed pecan pie, I can assert with confidence that Frank Brigtsen makes the best pie in town. Were I a mere chauvinist, I would conclude, a priori, that Brigtsen makes the best pecan pie on this continent, the land where pecans are native. But I have done the research, becoming more confident with every bite that the facts that have emerged in my research elsewhere have not tainted the conclusion I reached at Brigtsen's restaurant.
On a recent afternoon, while his pastry chef, Chris Newton, prepared three pies with a professional's ease, Brigtsen offered commentary, explaining the technique and philosophy by which this version of the dish achieves its bestness. He got the recipe from Malcolm and Versie, though not directly. They are credited, by first names only, as its authors in The Prudhomme Family Cookbook.
"The goal is to make a crust that's a lot like me—tender and flaky," he explained.
"A lot of pie-dough recipes that call for cold butter ask you to dice the butter into little cubes and ask you to work the dough with a pastry cutter or your fingers. The method we use for the butter that makes it so much easier is to use a hand grater to grate the butter into the flour."
The grated butter morsels look like the raw potato pieces that go into the hash browns at Waffle House. There is no lard around.
"The flavor of the crust is going to be much better with butter. It's going to be like a cracker. It's got a buttery taste and a crispiness to it that I really like."
Pecan pie comes from a long line of "transparent" pies, including the chess pie, the Osgood (or "Oh So Good") pie, and the vinegar pie. Purists point out that these pies date back to the mid-1700s, long before the 1902 introduction of Karo syrup. But Karo syrup has become the standard ingredient in pecan pie, both Brigtsen's and others.
"We use Karo-brand dark corn syrup. A lot of the pecan pies that are just kind of syrupy sweet probably use clear or light corn syrup, which is really just a sweetener. The dark corn syrup has the caramelization of the sugars, which gives a lot of depth of flavor."
So far, so good. Nothing radical. Nothing surprising. Then this:
"This is the key right here. We have pecans in two different forms: These are medium pecan pieces right out of the box, not roasted. These will rise to the top in the baking process and roast in the oven." He gestures: "But these are already roasted. Same pecans, but roasted and ground up a little bit. And this is what makes this pie good. These small pieces of ground, roasted pecans will rise up beneath the larger pieces so they don't burn. But they insure that every bit of the pie has a very deep, roasted-pecan flavor not quite as pretty."
And finally, as a parting shot at one of my assumptions about how this pie gets so good, Brigtsen destroys the theory that baking the shell before it is filled is the most effective way to guarantee that the crust is flaky.
"Par baking, or blind baking, a pie shell is something you do with fillings that don't take a long cooking time. But this pie has a very long cooking process. It's about an hour and twenty minutes."
The pecan pie has been on the Brigtsen's menu for all twenty-three years of the restaurant's history. It is evidence of Brigtsen's broader philosophy.
"I wanted it to be just that: a classic Southern dessert. I am not out to change the world with my food. I am not out to reinvent the wheel. I'm only here to make people happy. And whatever it takes to do that is my goal. I also believe that just because something is one hundred years old or twenty-three years old doesn't mean it isn't good anymore."
You can find the recipe at brigtsens.com. You can find the pie at Brigtsen's itself.
