Northwestern University Alumni

When life gives Maya-Camille Broussard ’04 MA lemons, she makes strawberry lemonade pie. Broussard, owner of Chicago’s Justice of the Pies bakery, is no stranger to adversity. Despite many setbacks, she has made it her mission to positively impact the lives of children struggling with food insecurity, as well as those working on the front lines during the pandemic.

Broussard says she was taught to take a stand and be community minded at an early age. Her father, Stephen J. Broussard ’70, ’73 JD, worked as a criminal defense attorney, and his fight for justice began during his undergraduate years at Northwestern. He was one of approximately 100 students who occupied the University’s Bursar’s Office on May 3, 1968, to protest the inequities Black students experienced at Northwestern. The 38-hour sit-in played a pivotal role in the creation of the Black House and the establishment of the African American Studies program.

More than 30 years later, Broussard enrolled at her father’s alma mater to pursue a master of arts in theatre. Soon after, Stephen Broussard, a larger-than-life figure who prided himself on his quiche recipe, was diagnosed with a brain tumor. He died in February 2009—just days before the opening of his daughter’s first business, Three Peas Art Lounge.

Broussard was inspired by her father’s passion for baking—and love of anything with a crust—to open her own pie shop after Three Peas was destroyed by a flood in 2011. She taught herself to make exquisite pies and set out on a social mission, which took the shape of a culinary art form.

Read on as Broussard explains how she teaches children to feed their bodies and minds. Plus, find out how the coronavirus (COVID-19) pandemic forced her business to pivot.

On her decision to open a socially conscious bakery

At my father’s funeral, my cousin Stefanie came up to me and said, “We should start a foundation where we’re teaching kids how to make pies, because your dad loved pie so much.” And I was like, “Number one, we’re at a funeral. Number two, I’m opening an art gallery in less than a week.”

Three Peas was a really big success, but three years later, I lost the gallery. We experienced a flood on Christmas Day of 2011. It destroyed everything. It took some time to go through the motions of closing everything down and to emotionally reconcile with the loss.

At the same time, I was trying to discover what was next for me. I went to San Francisco to visit my cousin Justin. He and my dad shared a love for cooking. Justin would sit there and watch all of the cooking shows. Then, he would actually get up and try to make everything.

One day, Justin’s wife took me to a pie shop in the Mission District called Mission Pies. There was this feeling that I had when I walked in there, and she explained to me that the pie shop hired teenagers who were displaced from their homes.

When she said that, it clicked. I thought, “I’m supposed to be doing something like this.”

On building a business—and recipe book—from scratch

Everything just came together. Immediately, I started buying ingredients, and Justin and I tested a couple of recipes. When I first started making crust, I tried all of the things that people suggested. I put shortening in it. I put vodka in it. I put vinegar in it. But I didn’t like the crust. Now, my recipe is so simple—it’s flour, butter, salt, and sugar. That’s how a business is, too. Sometimes you try to overcomplicate things or make it special, and the thing that makes it special is its simplicity.

When I came back home to Chicago in August 2014, I kick-started a campaign. I raised $7,000, and that’s how I started the business. I formed an L3C (a low-profit limited liability company) in February 2015, and I started doing farmers markets that spring.

I focused on pies in the beginning because that’s what my dad loved. The company was created to celebrate my dad’s love of pies and honor his belief that people deserve second chances.

On her mission to educate children about nutrition and kitchen basics

A cause that’s near and dear to me is fighting food insecurities. My dad and my aunt Patricia Broussard ’72 would talk about growing up in the projects and growing up super hungry. The emotional trauma from that trickled down to me and my cousins in the way that we ate.

I know that food insecurity has a big impact on the success of a child. If that need is not met, they’re not able to think about succeeding in the classroom. They’re not able to think about being creative beings. They’re not able to think about extracurricular activities if there is some sort of insecurity around what they’re eating and if it’s not healthy.

In 2017, I began hosting “I Knead Love,” a workshop for fifth to eighth graders from low-income communities. The goal is to teach kids basic kitchen skills, nutritional development, creativity in the kitchen, and budgeting. We also talk about how easy it is to visit an urban garden or volunteer there. My dad grew up in the projects on Chicago’s West Side, so they didn’t have a garden, but my mom’s parents are from the South. She grew up with a garden on the side of the house, and I remember going to the garden and eating fresh tomatoes in the summer.

I’ve seen the two worlds, and I know which world is better. If home economics classes and shop classes don’t exist in schools, this is the opportunity for me to impart some sort of knowledge and life skills onto kids to help them become more self-sufficient and self-reliant. I want them to have agency over their bodies and what they put into their bodies.

Right now, the workshops are on hold. During the pandemic, I’m spending a lot of time writing grants, figuring out how to expand this initiative to other cities, and exploring how I can do it virtually. I am also in the process of forming my own 501(c)(3), but that can take some time. Everybody needs money when you’re doing something that’s social mission–based or equality- and justice-based. You need that fiscal support.

On pivoting her business during the pandemic

In February 2019, I moved into a private kitchen in The Hatchery (a food and beverage incubator that supports Chicago entrepreneurs). That allowed me to take yet another step in expanding my business by doing more catering. It was very important for me to take my time to build a business and get to a place where I could purchase my own property. Ownership is very important, I think, especially for a Black-owned, woman-owned business. I knew I needed to move into my own space if I wanted to continue to grow the business, and the momentum was good. I was on track. Then, of course, COVID-19 happened.

Our focus has since shifted to feeding the front lines during the pandemic. I started accepting donations on my website at the end of March. I also partnered with Frontline Foods Chicago (a non-profit that uses donations to buy meals from local, independent restaurants to feed hospital workers, first responders, and others affected by the pandemic) in the middle of April. I’ve made and delivered about 3,200 meals since then. However, the donations to Frontline Chicago have slowed down a bit, and because of that, they’re not sending us to as many hospitals or ordering as many meals.

When the quarantine began, I was also in the process of revamping my catering menu, so I took some time to test new recipes. I allowed people to join me on Instagram Live while I cooked, and afterward, people would say, “Are you going to post the recipe?”

People were tired of the three to five things that they rotate within their own culinary Rolodex, so I decided to create “Justice for All,” a virtual, subscription-based cooking class. You get three recipes—a cocktail, an entrée, and a dessert—each week. You also get a grocery list and a tool list emailed to you. The videos are edited at a slower pace so you can make the food while you’re watching a video.

The videos are also closed captioned so you’re able to read everything as you’re watching it. It’s very important for me to have closed captions, because I’m a member of the deaf and hard-of-hearing community. I want my friends who are also deaf and hard of hearing to be able to participate, as well.