Grandma Piggyback's Brownie Pie

There is a photograph of a New York City grande dame-type woman in an early Diane Arbus book that could be my Grandma Piggyback. It's a bedroom shot that's all gold hair and sheer granny nightgown and robe, satin-like bedspread, long cylindrical pillows, and so forth. Henrietta was old school, old world, Upper West Side, and then Upper East Side. She loved beauty and art and culture and "young people," and they adored her, too, supposedly. Ultimately, she may have preferred style over substance, but I think she would have really gushed over D.J., who, of course, has both.

When my sisters and I were little, we used to get long painful splinters in our feet running up and down her huge foyer, and her apartment had that grandmother-distinctive smell that never changed, no matter what she was cooking. She was famous for her brisket (didn't eat it then), her chopped chicken liver (no way), her French toast (which I've already covered), and her roasted potatoes, among other things. My cousins and sisters and I used to have contests at the children's table to see who could eat the most roasted potatoes—the winners of which, I might add, seemed to always find the Afikoman as well. But if those potatoes weren't on my original 10-most-favorite food list, they should have been.

I've never had a very good memory of my childhood, but I think Henrietta taught me how to bake, or at least I remember, kind of, watching her perfectly manicured hands sifting the flour or melting the chocolate or mixing the dough. In any event, though I'm pretty sure she received, as well as doled out, any number of hard knocks, she also definitely made Brownie Pie.

My mother unearthed Grandma Piggyback's simple recipe a number of years ago. There is no crust here, flaky or otherwise. And it's not quite a brownie, though not not a brownie, and the whole thing is so delicious and refined, it's good plain (not too warm, though), or with vanilla ice cream, and then even, if you're so inclined, further topped with the seriously fabulous L.'s Strawberry Compote. Excellent results pretty much guaranteed.

GRANDMA PIGGYBACK'S BROWNIE PIE

simple and elegant,
makes two

2 sticks butter
3 ounces bitter chocolate
4 eggs
2 cups sugar
1 scant cup sifted flour
2 heaping teaspoons vanilla

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Butter and flour 2 9-inch pie pans.

Melt butter and chocolate in double boiler. Set aside.

In large mixing bowl, beat eggs and sugar. Add melted butter and chocolate mixture, and flour. Stir in vanilla.

Pour into pans, dividing batter evenly. Bake 30 minutes.

L.'S STRAWBERRY COMPOTE

makes an evening's worth, or more,
measurements to taste

1 pint fresh strawberries
lemon juice
a little sugar
a little Limoncello, or even white wine will do

Rinse strawberries and cut into fairly small oblong pieces, about 10 or 12 pieces per strawberry. Collect in a bowl, and add the juice of about 1/2 to 1 lemon, maybe a Tablespoon or two of sugar, and a dash or so of Limoncello. Stir well. Taste, and adjust flavorings if necessary (not too sweet, not too tart). Let sit in refrigerator for at least an hour.

Note: Make sure when you present it atop vanilla ice cream—and that, my friends, is a you-can't-believe-how-good-it-is must—that you include both the fruit and the liquid on each serving, to get the full, beautiful creamy pink color effect.