Chocolate Silk Pie
The Volberg gals, Mom is in a Modern Times jacket.
Nonnie and Mom in front of 126 Mallette St. Mom is in a full Modern Times outfit. This was before Lycra was readily available. It was sold as “Underwear Fabric” and Lisa would buy it in bulk. One of my shop tasks was rolling the fabric, which was suprisingly hard.
I actually remember this photo being taken! It’s my first memory of embarrassment. Dad was trying to make me wear a hat I didn’t want to wear. Funny, because now you can’t talk me OUT of wearing a cowboy hat. (Believe me, my daughter has tried.)
I was shy as a child. I know this may come as a surprise to those who know me now or those who are reading this blog (as it is inherently oversharing!). But, I really began life as an observer. Mom said that she used to watch me when I was a baby and my eyes would follow the action around the room. My shyness resulted in some social anxiety, I never really felt like I fit in. Once, in first grade, our music teacher was casting for the role of Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. She knew that I could at least sing in tune, so she asked me to stand up and sing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”. I burst into tears. It was so humiliating. She asked me to stay after class to console me, so I was late getting a seat in my regular classroom. I was forced to sit next to “Reuben, the Booger Man” all day long. (Where is Reuben now? I want to apologize.) To top it off, my best friend, Yoli, got the part and I was relegated to the role of a “Rainbow Dancer” (ie: lame part where you dance with a hula hoop). I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had rallied and sang the song. Would it have changed the trajectory of my life?
I also struggled with my weight my whole life (talk about oversharing - but there’s a point to this!), probably using food as self-medication for that anxiety. In junior high, which is literally the worst time for anyone except *possibly* sociopaths, I was having a tough go of it. Mom recognized this. I’m not sure how. I don’t remember discussing it. She took me to Modern Times, this ultra cool boutique in downtown Chapel Hill. The owner, Lisa Heyward, was an anomaly in Central North Carolina. She had moved from New York where she had been a model for Halston. She had a diamond stud in her nose. I’m not sure how Mom knew her, I guess she had just stopped by the store. At Modern Times, Lisa designed and made all of her own clothes. They were fashion forward, freaking cool, and, justifiably, kind of expensive. Mom had me try some things on and I walked out of there with a pair of drawstring cropped pants made out of mattress ticking. I remember they cost $50. $50 for a pair of pants for a 7th grader?! Yes. And I felt like a million bucks.
This introduction to Lisa and Modern Times would become a turning point in my life. A few years later, Lisa would call up Mom and say, “do you think your daughter might want to help around the shop?”. What was a $4/hour grunt work job to her was a BRAVE NEW WORLD for me. I had found my people and a passion. I credit Lisa with teaching me color theory, I used to help her custom dye fabric in her basement. Also, I, arguably, had the coolest job in Chapel Hill at age 15! For a while Modern Times was the only store that sold Doc Martens in North Carolina. I helped with display, fabric cutting & sales. I got invited the to the parties. We listened to Love & Rockets and Roxy Music. One time at Chapel Hill High (where I only went for a year before going on to North Carolina School of the Arts), my friend overheard someone referring to me as “that bitch who works at Modern Times”. As opposed to being upset about that, I was thrilled! There’s some real power in being a bitch! I could work with that. If this person *only* knew that I was actually super insecure and hid my butt under my gigantic purse. I’d much rather her think I was a bitch.
With the Modern Times pants intro, Mom not only made me feel accepted and valuable, but she opened my eyes to a different, more creative, way of life. I’ve heard similar stories from other folks. Tammy, the wonderful priest who wrote the homily for Mom’s funeral service, mentioned that Mom introduced her to the person who would become her spiritual mentor, someone Mom thought “she should know”. Mom made connections. She saw potential in people. She championed us.
So, in honor of that chubby kid in the one-of-a-kind mattress ticking pants, I’m going to give you the recipe for one of my favorite desserts, Chocolate Silk Pie. Unfortunately, we couldn’t find Mom’s complete recipe, but this is cobbled together from notes jotted down by my sister and some research into other versions. It’s freaking delicious.
CHOCOLATE SILK PIE
1 pie crust, blind baked
4 ounces unsweetened baking chocolate
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 cup (2 sticks) salted butter, softened but still cold
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
4 eggs, cold (use pasteurized if you’re worried since they don’t get cooked)
Whipped cream (see recipe below)
In a double boiler or microwave, melt the baking chocolate until stirrable.
(Careful if using a microwave, as chocolate burns easily. Maybe 45 seconds.)
It is important for the bowl and ingredients to be cold for the next stage of making the filling--to get the right texture and result. In a large chilled bowl with an electric mixer, beat the sugar and butter until fluffy, 1 to 2 minutes.
When the melted chocolate is cooled, drizzle it over the butter/sugar mixture. Add the vanilla extract. Beat the mixture thoroughly until combined (on a stand mixer, you will be using the whisk attachment).
Turn your mixer to a medium speed and over a period of 15 to 20 minutes, add in the 4 cold eggs, one at a time, leaving about 5 minutes between each egg addition. Once the pie filling is well mixed, pour it into the baked pie shell, scraping every last speck of it out of the bowl. Smooth out the pie filling and place the pie in the refrigerator to chill for at least 2 hours (preferably longer).
Serve with fresh whipped cream.
Sarah’s note: Mom always used a small container of whipping cream with a Tablespoon of sugar and a teaspoon of vanilla.
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