A Brick City tradition.....
baked fresh in FL.
I grew up in New Jersey during the 1970s, a time filled with strong community roots and fun times with friends and family. Some of my favorite memories are of riding around town with my grandfather, watching the rhythm of the city unfold street by street. On many corners, you'd find African American Muslim men—sharp in their suits, bow ties perfectly in place—standing with quiet confidence as they sold bean pies in hopes of achieving economic independence and stability.
There was something about their presence: They seemed dignified, focused, and deeply committed to the task at hand. Even as a child, I noticed that. What really caught my attention, though, was the reaction from others. Cars would slow down—sometimes even holding up traffic—just to call one of the brothers over to grab a few pies. (Most people bought more than one.) That told me everything I needed to know: Those pies must be delicious. I always wondered what they tasted like.
Life moved on and in the 1980s I moved to Florida. Somehow, I never got the chance to try one of those pies I had been so curious about as a child. Years passed, but the memory of those pies stayed with me.
Four years ago, I returned to New Jersey to help my mother move to Florida to be closer to family. While I was there, I stopped by a neighborhood fried chicken spot to pick up a meal for my mom and I, a simple two-piece chicken dinner and a small sweet potato pie for each of us for dessert. But as I reached for that familiar treat, something unexpected caught my eye. Sitting right beside the rows of mini sweet potato pies… were several rows of bean pies. I felt the pie calling to me. In that moment, I was hit with a wave of nostalgia—for a food I had never even tasted before. I bought one of the mini pies. The next day, I went back and bought another. That was it—I was hooked.
After returning to Florida, I found myself thinking about those pies from time to time. There was a sadness in realizing I might never taste one again. I hadn't run across them in all my years in Florida. With my mother now settled in Florida and no immediate plans to return to New Jersey, it felt like a chapter had closed. But the craving—and the memory—never left.
So I decided to do something about it. I began experimenting in my own kitchen, searching for authentic recipes and learning everything I could about making bean pies. Through patience, trial and error, and a passion for the project, I developed a recipe that captures the flavor and feeling of that first bite that I'll never forget.
Today, I'm proud to share that flavor with you. This isn't just a pie—it's a connection to history, to community, and a childhood memory that has stayed with me forever. It's a smooth warmly spiced pie reminiscent of sweet potato pie. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
Warmly,
Margaret Grant
