It shouldn’t be hard to find a decent chocolate cream pie. It’s chocolate pudding, set in pie crust, topped with whipped cream. That’s it. You could use pudding from a box, a store-bought graham cracker crust and cover the whole thing with Reddi-wip from a can, and it would be a dadgum good pie.

And yet, for the first eight years of my marriage, the ultimate chocolate cream pie was my husband’s personal white whale; this is the story about how I drove a harpoon straight through that whale’s creamy, chocolaty heart.

When I first met Matt on a beer-soaked sidewalk in 2005, we were both working as pastry chefs, so we implicitly knew that a potential relationship could, if we desired, contain a substantial amount of outstanding chocolate cream pie.

What I didn’t know at the time was that Matt was actively engaged in a years-long feud that was not based on pudding, but principle. On an early date, he told me the tale of a night when he was stricken with a craving for chocolate cream pie. He walked to a nearby bakery and bought an entire pie for the suspiciously low price of $4.95. He went back home, cut himself a slice, and the pie was horrible. “Horrible!” he shouted to me wide-eyed in the middle of a romantic restaurant, slamming his hand on the table with the ferocious passion of a man who took pie extremely seriously. I had never been more turned on in my life.

Scale and get a printer-friendly version of the recipe here.

He recounted its shortcomings: The insipid crust was neither tender nor flaky. The chocolate pudding’s primary note was of spare change with an undercurrent of vanilla body spray, telltale signs that the pudding had been mass-produced in a factory. On top, a chalky halo of “whipped cream,” which he said using air quotes.

The pie represented the sort of cost-cutting chicanery he expected from a big-box store, not a neighborhood bakery. So, a few months later, when the craving struck again, he went to another bakery … and was served the same pie. Crust from a mix. Pudding from a can. “Whipped cream.”

He became obsessed with finding respectable chocolate cream pie in our little corner of the city, which, at the time, was not yet sophisticated enough to have a Starbucks. As he rambled on about all the subsequent pies that had disappointed him, I realized that he was not searching merely for a pie that tasted good, but a pie that respected him.

That’s what all of us want from pie, isn’t it? We want a pie that sees us as someone who is worthy of excellence.

Eight years later, Matt and I opened a bakery a few blocks from our apartment, and I realized we had inadvertently created a loophole that allowed me to at last make the chocolate cream pie of his dreams.

I spent several days fussing with every element to get it just right, and used the finest ingredients I could find. It was a pie specifically designed to meet ridiculously high standards; the pie I knew I’d make for him the night he first told me of his quest. He told me it was perfect; I told him, “I told you so.”

There has never been a sweeter pie.

Two years later, Matt developed a serious dairy allergy and never had the pie again; we closed the bakery and moved away. No one has seen this pie of legend since, but today it arises, just as humanity seems to need it the most.

Chocolate Cream Pie

This pie is only as good as the chocolate you use. Buy the best you can afford.


  • 2 large egg yolks
  • 3/4 cup (150 grams) granulated sugar, divided
  • 4 cups (946 milliliters) half-and-half
  • 1/2 cup (65 grams) cornstarch
  • 1/4 cup (25 grams) Dutch process unsifted cocoa powder
  • 10 ounces (285 grams) chopped chocolate, preferably semisweet
  • 2 tablespoons (30 grams) unsalted butter
  • 1 1/4 teaspoons kosher salt
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 1 blind-baked pie crust, store-bought or homemade (see related recipe), cooled (see NOTE)
  • 2 cups (480 milliliters) heavy cream
  • 1/2 cup (65 grams) unsifted confectioners' sugar
  • 4 ounces (115 grams) mascarpone
  • 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
  • 1 good-quality chocolate bar, for shaving

Step 1

Make the pie: In a small bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and 1/4 cup (50 grams) sugar until combined (the mixture should be thick and pale in color as you whisk the ingredients together). Set aside.

Step 2

In a medium heavy-bottomed saucepan over high heat, whisk together the half-and-half, the remaining 1/2 cup (100 grams) sugar, the cornstarch and cocoa powder and cook, whisking constantly until the mixture begins to steam, about 5 minutes. Add the chopped chocolate and continue to whisk until the pudding comes to a boil. The mixture will start to thicken fairly fast.

Step 3

Reduce the heat to medium and continue to cook, whisking constantly, for 1 minute, then remove from the heat; the mixture should be thick, like pudding. Add the egg yolk mixture and butter and whisk vigorously to combine, for 1 minute. Whisk in the salt and vanilla until combined.

Step 4

Pour the pudding into the blind-baked 9-inch pie shell (you do not have to wait for it to cool if you’re pressed for time), cover with a piece of plastic wrap and gently press it to the surface of the pudding. Refrigerate the pie for about 4 hours, until fully set.

Step 5

Make the whipped cream: At least 15 minutes before you’re ready to serve the pie, in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment (or using a handheld mixer and a free-standing large bowl), combine the heavy cream, confectioners’ sugar, mascarpone and vanilla.

Beat the ingredients on medium-low until fully mixed, then increase the speed to high and whip the mixture until stiff peaks form, about 2 minutes. Pile the whipped cream on top of the pie, then use a vegetable peeler to shower it with chocolate shavings. Refrigerate until set, about 10 minutes.

Serve cold.

Step 6

NOTE: To blind-bake a pie crust, position a baking rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 425 degrees. Gently line your deep-dish pie crust (already fitted into the pie plate, crimped as per your preference, and chilled in the freezer for at least 30 minutes) with foil and weigh it down with pie weights, beans, rice or pennies. Place the pie dish on top of a large, rimmed baking sheet and transfer to the oven. Bake for 15 minutes, then remove the foil with the weights and continue to bake for 5 to 7 minutes, until the pie crust is light golden brown. Transfer to a wire rack and let cool before filling.

Tested by Olga Massov; email questions to

Scale and get a printer-friendly version of the recipe here. Also see the recipe for No-Stress All-Butter Pastry Crust.

Did you make this recipe? Take a photo and tag us on Instagram with #eatvoraciously.

Browse our Recipe Finder for more than 9,000 Post-tested recipes at

More pie recipes from Voraciously:


Calories: 737; Total Fat: 51 g; Saturated Fat: 29 g; Cholesterol: 158 mg; Sodium: 459 mg; Carbohydrates: 61 g; Dietary Fiber: 3 g; Sugars: 37 g; Protein: 8 g.