Southern Pecan Pie is about the easiest thing in the world to make. And so tasty it’ll make you want to slap your momma.
Not me, of course. I’m scared of my momma. She’s a tyrant. All 5 feet and 1 inch of her.
Last Thanksgiving, we had some friends over, a couple and their two children (in addition to a sailor, of course, and our own brood). At the end of an hour-long period of feasting, I offered up three desserts. The wife turned to me and, with the biggest smile on her face, told me that she had been looking forward to my Pecan Pie for days prior to coming over.
“Really?” I said, knowing that, of the 35 dishes I put out on the table, this one was the biggest no-brainer.
Note to self: Next year, at Thanksgiving, don’t worry about the 22-hour turkey, 2-day process of making dressing, hours of green bean preparation, homemade macaroni-and-cheese, from scratch butterhorn rolls, deviled eggs, sweet potatoes, and scratched out chocolate cake with coffee in the icing. Next year, slap together a Pecan Pie and spend more time working on my day-after shopping strategy.
Here’s where we’re going:
See that yellowish spot in the middle? That’s pure buttery goodness.
Try not to lust.
It’s not becoming of Christian people.
Here’s what you need:
2/3 cups sugar
1 cup light corn syrup (you know me and sugar-on-sugar)
1/3 cup butter, melted
1 cup pecan halves
9-inch pie crust (You can make your own, but why bother, when the Pillsbury ones are so good. And easy. Don’t forget easy.)
Pam for the pie plate
To begin, preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
Spray the pie plate with Pam and put the crust in. You can decorate it with a fork or crimp it around the edges if you want. Or not. If you don’t, you get to the eating faster. It’s about priorities, really.
Next, mix all the other ingredients in a mixing bowl.
Stir it up good then pour it into the pie crust.
Oh, my goodness. I love that picture like a sailor loves the ocean. Like the sunset loves the West. Like a fat kid loves Twinkies.
Now, stir it around a bit to make sure the pecans are evenly distributed across the pie.
Now, pop that sucker in the oven. I put it on a baking sheet for two reasons:
1. It’s easier to handle.
2. If any of the pecan goodness drips over the edge, it won’t mess up my oven.
Bake it for 50 minutes. Or so they say. I’ve never been able to get one done in less than 60.
While it cooks, give yourself and your 9-year old a pedicure. Or go get one.
No, of course don’t leave the house with a pie in the oven!
After 50 minutes, if it’s like water in the middle, it’s not done. When it holds still and doesn’t jiggle when you take it out of the oven, it’s done.
Put it on the counter and let it cool before you cut it.
If heaven is as good as the Bible says it is, this is a little slice of it right here.
Serve it for dessert or, in a pinch, give it to your kids for breakfast. I’m not saying I did. I’m just saying that, if you’re going to, don’t feel guilty about it. It’s got eggs and nuts in it. Those are good for the kids. If you’re really stressed about it, give ’em a glass of milk too.
Warning! Don’t molest this pie by serving it with ice cream, powdered sugar, whipped cream, or any of that nonsense. Eat it just like it is. Or else.
Printable recipe card: click, print, cut, and go.