The MoonPie turns 100
“And make it about this big,” an Eastern Kentucky coal miner told Earl Mitchell as the miner framed the moon with his hands.
Mitchell was the general manager of the Mountain City Flour Mill in Chattanooga, Tennessee, at the time.
According to legend, he was working a sales route and had asked a group of miners gathered at a little country store what they would like in their lunch pails.
Sales in that part of Appalachia had been slumping, and Mitchell was seeking to augment his product line.
That miner, whose name apparently has been lost to time, said he loved melting marshmallow and dipping graham crackers in it.
“And as the legend goes, he didn’t say round or anything at the time,” explains Tory Johnston, current vice president of marketing for the Chattanooga Bakery. “He said it just needs to be those flavors, marshmallow and graham, and dipped in chocolate.”
Earl Mitchell shared the idea at the Chattanooga Bakery, which had been created in the early 1900s solely for the purpose of using leftover flour produced by the mill.
Employees at the bakery told Mitchell that such a confection was indeed possible.
Johnston says someone in the bakery, whose name has also been lost, suggested that it be called a MoonPie.
“Luckily for us, somebody had the foresight and the wisdom to trademark it,” Johnston adds.
The first MoonPies passed through the ovens and a curtain of chocolate in 1917, and they have been made in Chattanooga ever since.
Butterette Dainties, Imp Ginger Snaps, Lookout Brand Lemon Drop Cakes, Mace Jumbles, Jersey Cream Lunch Biscuits, and Lookout Bran Biscuits, known as the Cracker of Life, were all produced by the Chattanooga Bakery, but by the late 1950s, all those products had fallen by the wayside, except for the MoonPie.
The Chattanooga Bakery had no marketing person until Tory Johnston was hired in 1997.
MoonPies had always sold well, especially at rural country stores. But sales soared thanks to a song.
“Give me an RC Cola and a Moon Pie (And Play ‘Maple on the Hill’)” was released on the Decca record label in 1951 by the country music duo Lonzo and Oscar.
At the time, both products sold for a nickel.
Throughout the South, they became known as the working person’s lunch.
The pairing of the filling, portable snack and the cold soft drink caught on, although neither company spent any advertising money to promote it.
Having an RC and a MoonPie was a sweet indulgence for a small amount of money.
Together, they became Southern symbols of thrift and abandon.
On the cover of one of its fundraising publications, the Center for the Study of Southern Culture at the University of Mississippi featured a bottle of RC Cola and a MoonPie on the hood of an old blue pickup truck.
On the third Saturday of June, the Middle Tennessee community of Bell Buckle, population 500, hosts an annual RC MoonPie Festival, celebrating what organizers call “the South’s original fast food.”
The grand finale is the cutting of the world’s largest MoonPie.
From that original chocolate icing, the product line has expanded to include banana, orange, vanilla, lemon, strawberry, and, yes, salted caramel. Sizes now range from mini to single-decker and double-decker.
And the MoonPie now has a theme song, written by Chris Armstrong, a student in one of my Foodways of Appalachia classes and a member of the group Sons of Bluegrass.
In exchange for writing the song, Chris and the band receive almost unlimited supplies of MoonPies. He introduced my class to the salted caramel flavor in the fall of 2014.
As I talk about foodways around the region, I’m constantly amazed at the number of people who still don’t know the ideal way to eat a MoonPie.
It’s the microwave method.
As I like to say, a MoonPie is matte finish. When you expose it to microwave heat, the icing becomes high gloss and the marshmallow filling a viscous, luscious goo.
Tory Johnston says that’s no secret inside the Chattanooga Bakery.
“Everybody, even in this building, will tell you it’s the best way to eat a MoonPie. Even if it’s a stale MoonPie, even if it’s past its code date, microwaving brings it right back to its youth. It is decadent. A lot of people will put ice cream on it and make their own little sundaes, with a cherry on top.”
In our 1,200-watt microwave, punching in 12 seconds for a mini MoonPie will bring it almost to the point of explosion, the optimal temperature.
The MoonPie has spawned its share of imitators, both internationally and domestically, including South Korea’s Choco Pie and Over the Moon Pies, created by Zingerman’s in Ann Arbor, Michigan.
At around $4 each and made with ingredients like Scharffen Berger cocoa and vanilla from Madagascar, the Zingerman’s version offers a stark counterpoint to the working-class profile of the original MoonPie.
But imitation in any form is indeed a high compliment.
Since its introduction 100 years ago, the MoonPie has become an iconic standard bearer of the South.
It captivated consumers from the start, and dietary fads and trends have never diminished that passion. The Chattanooga Bakery now turns out about a million MoonPies every day.
About the author: Fred Sauceman’s latest book is Buttermilk & Bible Burgers: More Stories from the Kitchens of Appalachia. He is Senior Writer and Associate Professor of Appalachian Studies at East Tennessee State University.