Ghetto Home Fabulous: Crack Pie Sugar Voodoo

No, Wikipedia, I did not mean "crack pipe".


It's pie, Baby - crack pie. At Momofuku restaurant in New York City, some clever ladychef whose name evades me invented this diabolical confection, and on food forums all across the interwebz, people talk about the stuff like it's black magic. Being a practitioner of Sugar Voodoo myself, I had to try it. Plus, the recipe calls for three and a half sticks of butter, nine eggs, and heavy creme. I mean, you might as well slather your body in manwich and jump in front of a hungry tiger because with 27 grams of fat per slice, this pie will kill you dead.

I will now walk you through the process with the aid of these ugly photographs.

BTW, I probably spent three hours making these suckers, and it wasn't just because I am inept at pie-making. There are FIFTY MILLION steps in this recipe, and lots of waiting involved.

First you have to mix up oatmeal cookie dough. Looks tasty, right? Blegh.

I preheated my oven and wondered where that burnt smell was coming from. Oh look! Residue from my last baking experiment! How delightful.

After twenty minutes, out pops a nice pan o' cookie.

Then you have to crumble your beautiful cookie and mix it with butter and sugar to make a crust.

This is the part that will give you a heart attack - the ooey gooey filling. I will note here that this pie is really expensive to make. I cried a little in the checkout lane at the grocery store as I was paying $8.55 for a box of powdered milk - oh, the humanity. What am I going to do with a giant, barely-used box of powdered milk, huh? Maybe I will save it for Christmas and use it as fake snow. That would be sufficiently ghetto home fabulous.

Finally the pie is poured and popped in the oven. I didn't notice that this pie pan had holes in the bottom until I lifted it up and found a huge puddle of pie-goo under the stove burner. Oops. Hopefully when my landlord comes today to fix my leaky toilet he won't look in my kitchen.

Out pops the pie, a wee bit burnt. I do not have the ability to talk on the phone and take a pie out of the oven at the same time. Nor do I have the ability to pause a phone conversation when I have a pie burning in the oven. Even an expensive pie.

Second time's the charm. It still looks like the surface of the moon, but perhaps a bit more appetizing than its predecessor.

I prepared myself for the crack-induced euphoria that was about to come over me and stuck an entire 27 grams of fat into my gaping pie-maw. Unfortunately, I did not see any brilliant colors, nor was I filled with nonsensical feelings of invincibility or the urge to vacuum my ceiling or whatever crack does to you. In fact, I didn't think it even tasted good enough to deserve the "crack pie" moniker. "Bonsai Tree Fertilizer Additive Sold On Shady Website *Wink Wink* Pie" would be much more appropriate, albeit a bit wordy.

P.S. Hopefully my work IT will not notice that I googled 'cocaine' three times in the last twenty minutes.

P.P.S. You can buy a legit crack pie directly from Momofuku's website and have it shipped straight to yo' door. That is, if you don't mind spending $44 on a PIE, or up to $50 on overnight shipping (!!!)