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Grits Pie — The Side Dish That Feeds a Community Table

June 2022. Memphis summer, 63 years old, and the heat wraps around Orange Mound like a wet blanket that nobody asked for but everybody wears because that is the deal you make when you live in the South. The smoker calls louder in summer — something about the heat amplifying the smoke, the way humidity amplifies everything in Memphis — and I answer, because answering is what pitmasters do.

Rosetta beside me through the week, steady as ever, the woman who runs this household with the precision of a hospital ward and the heart of a mother who has loved fiercely for 38 years of marriage. The BBQ class at the community center continues — students of all ages learning fire and smoke, and me learning that teaching is its own kind of cooking: you prepare, you present, you hope something sticks.

Baked beans on the smoker — navy beans soaked overnight, simmered with onion, brown sugar, molasses, mustard, and my BBQ sauce, then smoked uncovered at 250 for two hours. The hickory settles into the sauce and transforms ordinary beans into something that belongs at any table, any gathering, any moment when people need to be fed and comforted and reminded that simple food, made with patience, is the best food there is.

Another week in the book. Another seven days of tending fires — the one in the smoker, the one in the marriage, the one in the family, the one in the church. Each fire needs something different: wood, attention, food, faith. But the tending is the same for all of them: show up, add what's needed, wait patiently, trust the process. Low and slow. Always. Low and slow.

Teaching that BBQ class reminded me again that the main event — the ribs, the brisket, the pulled pork — only tells half the story. The other half lives in the sides, the dishes that stretch a meal into a gathering and turn a plate into a memory. Grits pie is exactly that kind of dish: it’s Southern to its core, it’s patient food that rewards low-and-slow attention, and it holds together on a table the same way a good community holds together around a fire. Rosetta started making this years ago, and it has earned its place at every spread we put out.

Grits Pie

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 50 min | Total Time: 1 hr 5 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 1 unbaked 9-inch pie shell
  • 3 cups water
  • 3/4 cup quick-cooking grits
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
  • 1 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese
  • 3 large eggs, lightly beaten
  • 1/2 cup whole milk
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
  • 2 green onions, thinly sliced

Instructions

  1. Preheat oven. Heat your oven to 350°F. Place the unbaked pie shell in a 9-inch pie dish and set aside.
  2. Cook the grits. Bring 3 cups of water to a boil in a medium saucepan. Add salt, then slowly whisk in the grits. Reduce heat to low and cook, stirring frequently, for 5–7 minutes until thickened. Remove from heat.
  3. Build the filling. Stir butter and half the cheddar into the hot grits until melted and combined. Let cool for 5 minutes, then stir in the beaten eggs, milk, black pepper, garlic powder, and smoked paprika until smooth.
  4. Fill and top. Pour the grits mixture into the prepared pie shell. Scatter the remaining cheddar and the sliced green onions evenly over the top.
  5. Bake. Bake on the center rack for 45–50 minutes, until the center is just set and the top is lightly golden. A knife inserted near the center should come out clean.
  6. Rest before slicing. Let the pie rest for 10 minutes before cutting. Serve warm alongside BBQ, smoked beans, or any table that needs something honest and filling.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 280 | Protein: 9g | Fat: 15g | Carbs: 27g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 390mg

Earl Johnson
About the cook who shared this
Earl Johnson
Week 326 of Earl’s 30-year story · Memphis, Tennessee
Earl "Big E" Johnson is a sixty-seven-year-old retired postal carrier, a forty-two-year husband, and a Memphis BBQ legend who learned to smoke pork shoulder at his Uncle Clyde's stand when he was eleven years old. He lost his daughter Denise to sickle cell disease at twenty-three, and he honors her every year by smoking her favorite meal on her birthday and setting a plate at the table. His dry rub uses sixteen spices he keeps in a mayonnaise jar. He will not share the recipe. Not even with Rosetta.

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