Southern Pie Company

The New York Times Editorial page over one hundred years ago declared: “No pie-eating people can ever be permanently vanquished.”  Temporarily, yes, especially right after eating too much pie.  

 

Has such a claim ever been made about, say,  broccoli? 

 

No. 

 

Further, a restaurant devoted to broccoli is hard to imagine. The Southern Broccoli Company? 

 

No.

 

But The Southern Pie Company--there's a place you might want to visit.  Fortunately, for unvanquished pie eaters, it exists.

 

It’s tucked away along the village green in Chester, Vermont, a small town in the southern part of the state.

 

The Oxford English Dictionary editors are puzzled about just where the word “pie” comes from, but it was first used in the early fourteenth century to describe pastry filled with fish or meat.  Apple pies--the first fruit pies named--pop up later. (And in those days, spelling was erratic, so texts contain even “pye” and “py”--but not pi or π.   And there’s even a reference to Friars of the Pie-- an obscure religious order, worthy of a movie.  But I digress.)

 

The origins of the Southern Pie Company are easier to trace.  Some twelve years ago, Scott and Leslie Blair headed over to Goodman’s American Pie, a treasured pizza spot in Ludlow.  “We literally sat on their front porch with a foldout table and some pies,” Leslie says. They sold out.  Two years later, the Blairs had their first pie shop, down the road from the current spot.  While Scott has taken over another family business, Leslie remains a hands-on boss.  On a recent visit, she shoveled the front steps and made all the sandwiches.  

 

Leslie picked up the Southern approach to pie making from her years in Charleston, South Carolina.  Southern pies, she says, put a premium on the crust--rich, buttery and flaky.  Adding bourbon to the pecan pie is a Southern touch; chess and buttermilk pies are common in the South--and switching maple for vanilla in the buttermilk pie is, as she says,  a “North meets South” variation. That pie and the sour cream triple berry are the best sellers.

 

All of her dessert pies are all full-flavored and sweet. As someone who can’t perfect a consistent crust, I’m jealous of Leslie’s, which are simple, understated, softly crunchy and delicious.  She often has lemon, chocolate or coconut chess pies in the case, chess pie being in her words: “an old Southern style of pie with a creamy filling…. ‘What’s baking?’ ‘Oh, it’s jes pie.’”

 

Leslie notes too that “all of our fruit pies are covered with a sweet blanket of sour cream, creating a cake-like top.  And no, you can’t taste the sour cream.” 

 

I visited recently with my friend Janet, trying an assortment of food.  The Southern Pie Company has limited seating--two small, window tables and two bigger communal tables (for bigger parties or people willing to be sociable).  In nice weather, two tables outside as well as spots on the green provide other dining options.  The cafe does a brisk to-go business.  

 

First off, let’s start with dessert. (Why not?) Here’s a quick overview of pies we tasted:

 

The Sour Cream Triple Berry Pie --strawberries, blueberries, raspberries--smooth and fruity, the raspberries the strongest voice in the chorus.  

 

The Coconut Chess Pie--smooth and coconutty.

 

Bourbon Pecan: Janet found this bourbon-forward, but, as someone who drinks bourbon regularly, I found it more subtle, with what tasted to me like a marzipan undercurrent.

 

The Chocolate Chess Pie--a mid-note, fluffy chocolate pie.

 

Pie adjacent: Lemon bars: built on a solid, shortbread crust, gooey, tart--with lemon zest zipping through--a delightful blend of sweet and tart. (Can you enter a pie shop and leave with lemon bars? Yes, you can.)

 

Working backward through the day and menu, we tried:

Pie (savory): Quiche--the tomato, zucchini and mozzarella quiche is airy and eggy. 

 

(There are also meat pies, but my stomach is only so big.)

 

Sandwiches:

All of South Pie Company’s sandwiches are named after local roads.  I often order extra sauce to prevent Dreaded Dry Sandwich, but sandwiches here are moist.  Leslie, as we’ve established, likes flavor-forward food and condiments as well.  Her sandwiches are heaped full, many also accompanied with a nice layer of lettuce and tomato.  Yes, you can order a half sandwich--at half price (not like those sneaky places that  charge ¾ price.) You don’t get cheated on these sandwiches, so a half is what I usually order.  (Allows room for pie.)

 

Dodge Road: a big, bold sandwich, heaped with roast beef, hinting of red onion jam, horseradish steaming through. We loved it.

Route 11: chicken salad: more subtly flavored with notes of basil.  The chicken is both creamy and chunky. 

Elm Street: turkey: the thin slice of apple adds crunch and sweetness.  This is my usual order.  

 

Breakfast sandwich:

Breakfast Sammy--comes out steaming hot, egg, crunchy bacon, encased in a  brioche bun.  Janet said, “I’m not a breakfast sandwich person, but this could change my mind.”

 

If you stop in for breakfast, there are also homemade muffins and other baked goods.

 

Coffee:

Because I often have stopped by mid-afternoon, I somehow had missed the coffee offerings, featuring coffee from the Vermont Coffee Company.

 

Latte: hint of sweetness in the milk

Capuccino: delightfully foamy yet firm frothy milk.  

 

So: If you’re visiting local ski spots or if you’re driving through Chester en route to Dartmouth or Brattleboro or places beyond, The Southern Pie Company makes a great  pit stop.  It offers the best in local food: small operations with people like Leslie Blair working long hours to bring her passion for food to others.  Her small attentive staff works hard in a quaint spot so visitors can settle in for an hour or so.  And if a slice of pie is involved, all the better.   

 

One warning: go early to avoid disappointment.  By 2:30 the pie pickings can be scarce.  (I speak from sad experience.) You might even want to order pie as you order your lunch (or breakfast?).  Pie vultures have been known to sweep in and clean out the display--or devour that one piece you had your eye on. (Another sad experience.)

 

In short, it’s as easy as pie to have a pie in the sky and a finger in every pie: come early, and you won’t need to eat humble pie.   That’s as American as apple pie.

 

I’ll stop now.

 

 

 

But for more words on pie, see my essays on House of Pies (two parts needed to tell the tales.)