Growing up with three older brothers and surrounded by their friends, I have heard more arguments that include the phrase “my dad could beat up your dad” than I can count.

This phrase was only ever used as a hypothetical argument-trumper, because no matter what, the other person couldn’t prove you wrong. We all knew that my father was never going to fight anyone else’s dad (unless they insulted his wife — a story for another day), and yet there was no way anyone could convince me he would lose a fight against anyone, ever, period.

As a child, I didn’t care if the “your dad” in question was a Marine or a bodybuilder, because he wouldn’t be my dad. And if he fought my dad, he would lose.

When I think about my mom’s pecan pie, I feel the same way. I don’t care what recipe for pecan pie you use, or your mom uses or your grandmother uses. My mom’s pecan pie is better.

I don’t care if it was invented 200 years ago, or if it has a special trick or twist to make it more unique. I don’t care if your mom personally invented pecan pie. My mom’s pecan pie recipe is the pecan pie to end all pecan pies.

It is perfectly sweet and nutty, with the right ratio of corn syrup to pecans to crust. It has chopped up pecans on the inside, lending the filling a thicker, nuttier flavor with more substance to it, and a layer of whole pecans on top for a perfect crunch. It also doesn’t compromise on that Karo filling that puts everyone in a coma right after the meal is over. You can top it with whipped cream or ice cream or whatever, but honestly, this pie doesn’t need it.

The only change I’d ever make to this recipe, if I dared, would be by making bite-sized mini pies instead of a full sized pie. My mother has done that so many times throughout my life, as a way to bring a sweet treat to a family gathering or church function that everyone can share, and every single one is always gone by the end. Which means once again, I’d be following my mother’s pecan footsteps.

Even my father, who doesn’t eat sweets often (and yet still manages to be a semi-pacifist), loves my mom’s pecan pie. He will pass on anything else set in front of him. Any cookie, cake, cheesecake or other sweet. And yet, when Thanksgiving comes, he always asks if he can share my mom’s slice with her. (One slice actually always becomes two slices, just eaten inefficiently between the two of them.)

Other cooks have tried and failed to impress me with their pies. With an extreme amount of bias, I can still say, this is definitively the best one. All others just don’t get the ratio right, often going for more sugar filling and fewer nuts, and often include a sugary grainy texture that’s not quite right. No pie I have tried, high or low, can even begin to compete.

If you want to throw your hat in the ring, you’re certainly welcome to. Please, email me any and all recipes that dare to challenge this one. I’m not scared.

My mom’s pecan pie will absolutely, positively beat up your mom’s pecan pie.

MOM’S PECAN PIE RECIPE

Ingredients
1 15-ounce package refrigerated pie crusts (two crusts in package)
3 large eggs
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup light corn syrup
1/4 cup dark corn syrup
2 tablespoons butter or margarine, melted
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cup chopped pecans
1 cup pecan halves

Directions
■ Unroll 1 piecrust and place on a lightly floured surface. Lightly brush the top of the crust with water. Unroll remaining crust, and place over bottom crust. Gently roll or press crusts together. Fit into 9-inch pie plate. Fold edges under and crimp.
■ Stir together eggs and next 5 ingredients. Stir in pecans.
■ Pour filling into piecrust. Top pie with pecan halves in concentric circles until the whole top of the pie is covered. (Don’t fight me on this, I promise, the pecan top makes it better, even if it’s more difficult to cut.)
■ Bake for 52 minutes until pecans on top are slightly toasted and the center is set. Remove from oven and allow to cool. Serve warm or cold.

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