I had heard about how great it was; the oddly, but soon-to-be discovered, aptly named confection of David Chang’s famous Momofuku Milk Bar bakery was talked about on the streets and in the media as outrageously delicious and indescribably addicting by all those who’ve gotten a taste. “Just one bite” they all said, one bite is all it takes.
Curiosity lured me in. I had seen Anderson Cooper and Martha Stewart rave about Crack Pie on TV and read articles like love letters, waxing poetic about its irresistible amalgamation of ingredients. But more persuasive than any of these things was learning that to get their fix, Crack Pie fiends are willing to pay the $44 price tag for a pie—almost 100 of which are sold every day, by the way. I didn’t know what was in it or what made it so apparently delicious, but was convinced that it had to be something special.
A block away from where I work, Madison Square Park hosted a really fantastic month long food fair called Madison Square Eats, where a bunch of different vendors gathered to share some of the city’s tastiest offerings. The last day was Friday but over the course of its run, I made my rounds, getting Pretzels from Sigmund Pretzel Shop, pizza at Roberta's, macarons from Macaron Parlour, barbecue pork buns from Fatty Snack, and finally tasting Wafels & Dinges.
Nestled into the tiniest spot of Madison Square Eats I found Momofuku Milk Bar. After looking over the menu of such noted sweets as cereal milk soft serve and compost cookies, I bought my first slice of Crack Pie. It came in a little cardboard box, too small for the average pie slice, branded with it its criminally delectable name and a little TM; yup, it’s trademarked.
I brought it back to my desk thinking like a fool that I could take “just one bite” and bring the rest home. It’s an ordinary, not very attractive-looking triangle of pie with confectioners’ sugar dusted on top. I took that tell-tale bite just to see what all the fuss was about, and mid-chew, just as I began to wrap it up and put it away, it happened. Something came over me; I needed to eat the entire thing right then and no one was going to stop me.
With simple star ingredients like brown sugar, sugar, and butter, inside of a toasted oat crust, Crack Pie is rich like flourless chocolate cake, but without an ounce of chocolate in sight. It is buttery and sugary, and it is addicting. Everything that everyone said about it was true; it seems to have the ability to not only make you want more, but to want to share it with everyone you could. Since my first taste, over the course of two weeks I’ve returned back not once, not twice, but three times to have and share a slice.
The demand for Crack Pie is so high that they ship it across the country. Get your taste today. Or try to make your own with this adapted recipe from the LA Times.