In the window of the shop, little party pies nestle cosily in a warmer. You are enticed in for a morsel, a snack, a hint of a pie. Whilst in the queue of men in dirty shorts and work boots, you decide to go the whole hog and have a regular sized pie.Handed over in a white paper bag, it's big and high, but too big for me to bite open. Ack-ack! The pastry is thick, has crunch and pulling it apart reveals no gush of sauce, no sog factor, just solid filling. The anticipation leaves you salivating.
You eat a mouthful and like inhaling a packet of dry crackers, every last drop of moisture is evacuated from your mouth. This fatty tasting pie with its peppery seasoning is a mouth sponge. It could be used by dentists instead of that saliva vacuum they wedge into the corner of your mouth. Vrrrrruhh!
I lurched for a hot and milky cup of tea in order to raise the courage for another mouthful.
The filling of steak is so finely ground as to resemble Pecks Devilled Ham Paste and tastes similar. Add the 'Big Red' condiment - it takes the edge off the seasoning. I get half way through the gluey mass and give the rest to my cats. It could after all, be out of a can of Whiskas with a heavy dose of commercially ground pepper used for flavour.
This is a pie to be eaten when the tastebuds are deadened and you're so drunk that you're crawling along the pavement post F1 Grand Prix Celebrations - in a heatwave - where you thoroughly need to mop up before hitting the next pub. Only then is it a top pie.
scoreboard:
pastry:







