Hickory Nut Pie — The Dessert That Stays the Same When Nothing Else Can

Christmas week, and the kitchen produces the feast with the machinery of a tradition that is now eight years old in this journal and sixty years old in Mama's family and older than that in the Lowcountry's collective memory. The turkey. The ham. The collard greens. The mac and cheese. The sweet potato casserole. The cornbread dressing, crumbled. The peach cobbler. The same. Always the same.

James and Elise came for Christmas. Carrie called from Fukuoka at midnight her time — Christmas morning their time, noon ours — and she was in her apartment eating fried chicken, which is what the Japanese eat on Christmas (the irony of a Lowcountry girl eating fried chicken in Japan on Christmas was not lost on anyone, least of all Carrie, who said, "Mom, KFC fried chicken is not your fried chicken," and the comparison was both a compliment to me and an insult to KFC, and both were accurate).

Joy visited for the afternoon — reindeer antlers again, the tradition she has adopted with the permanence that Joy brings to everything she decides to love. She ate ham with her hands. She laughed at the candles on the table. She said, "Christmas!" and the word was the entire holiday compressed to one exclamation.

Mama sat at the table in the wheelchair, in the pearl earrings, in the blue dress. She did not bless the food. She did not speak. She watched the table with the particular attention of a woman who is taking in the scene without the ability to name it, and the taking-in is the blessing, and the blessing is silent, and the silence is the new form of the prayer.

I blessed the food with my own words again: "For this food, for this family, for the book that will carry this forward. We give thanks." The blessing was mine. The mine-ness was the carrying. And the carrying was the life.

The feast never changes, and the pie never changes either. Hickory nut pie has been on Mama’s Christmas table for as long as the collards and the cornbread dressing, and even now — with Mama watching the candles in silence and the blessing coming from my mouth instead of hers — the pie stays. It is the dessert that says we are still here, still the same family, still keeping it.

Hickory Nut Pie

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 50 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 5 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

• 1 unbaked 9-inch pie crust
• 1 cup hickory nuts, coarsely chopped
• 3 large eggs
• 1 cup dark corn syrup
• 2/3 cup granulated sugar
• 1/3 cup butter, melted
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1/4 teaspoon salt

Instructions

1. Preheat the oven. Heat oven to 350°F. Place pie crust in a 9-inch pie plate and crimp the edges.
2. Toast the nuts. Spread hickory nuts on a baking sheet and toast in the oven for 5 minutes, just until fragrant. Remove and set aside.
3. Mix the filling. In a large bowl, whisk together eggs, corn syrup, sugar, melted butter, vanilla, and salt until smooth.
4. Assemble the pie. Scatter the toasted hickory nuts evenly across the bottom of the pie crust. Pour the filling over the nuts.
5. Bake. Place pie on the center rack and bake for 45 to 50 minutes, until the filling is set around the edges but still has a slight jiggle in the center. If the crust browns too quickly, cover the edges with foil after 30 minutes.
6. Cool completely. Let the pie cool on a wire rack for at least 2 hours before slicing. The filling will firm as it cools.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 20g | Carbs: 58g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 260mg