Never heard of chess pie before. Thought maybe it was like a Rosca de Reyes but with plastic chess pieces baked into it instead of a plastic baby Jesus. Nope. Although, you gotta admit that would be fun. You could play a game with just the chess pieces you found in your slice of pie, as a way to introduce an element of chance into the game. But then again, meh. I'm sure the pawns would be a choking hazard. Darn you, chess pie.
So I Googled it. Apparently, it's Southern, and it means "just pie" but with a deep Southern accent. Fair enough. If that's the case, though, then shouldn't it be "chess pah"?
This version of chess pie is super tangy and sweet. It's a delicious, mouth-puckering lemon flavor. It immediately reminded both Sonia and I of lemon bars. We both agree it's a uniquely summery flavor, but we can't really put our finger on why we feel that way. I guess it's still lemon harvest season...?
The body of the pie is a fairly dense lemon custard. It's very smooth and somewhat thick. The crust is dry and flaky, maybe mildly buttery. The crust was a little too broad around the edge of the pie. There's like a half inch where there's nothing but crust and no lemon. I didn't mind eating the crust plain, but then again, I was pretty hungry. I could see some people discarding the excess crust since it's not particularly interesting by itself. How wasteful.
The lemon factor is pretty intense. That is, the coefficient of lemonosity is necessarily greater than the determinant value of the neutrality of the crustal elements when multiplied by pi. Ahem—I misspoke. I meant "when multiplied by pie." Make sense? Get it? Got it? Good.
$7.99 for six servings. I think you can definitely get at least six servings out of this one. It's pretty rich, so a medium-size pie piece is pretty satisfying. Double fours here in honor of 4th of July Weekend.
Bottom line: 8 out of 10.