Meat pies and (cornish) pasties are fairly common take-away fare here in Australia. Meat pies especially have become part of our traditional folklore and are regarded by some as our national dish.
I’ve sampled many over the years…from the ubiquitous Four’n’Twenty commercial variety :eek: on a frigid Melbourne Saturday afternoon at the local footy game, to more gourmet offerings from boutique bakeries who all claim to have ‘The Best Pies in Australia’.
But none come even close to the pies (and pasties) that were made by a small-town baker where I grew up in the 1960’s.
Hank-the-baker would be long dead by now, but he made the best pies and pasties ever. This is despite the fact that my mum worked in the opposition bakery in town…on Saturday afternoons she’d bring home a tray of home-made pies from her job, and I’d chuck a wobbly because I wanted Hank’s!!
So in the intervening (nearly) 50 years, I’ve been looking for a contender to Hank’s pies (and pasties). And I haven’t found one. There was one about 20yrs back who came pretty damned close, but IIRC, it is 400km away, and the bakery has undoubtedly changed hands by now.
And even though I’ve tried innumerable recipes and techniques to replicate the sheer joy of Hank’s pies (and pasties), I’ve failed miserably every time. Not to say that my attempts haven’t been jolly decent, just haven’t reached my own benchmark!
Yes a meat pie is a fine thing of which the rest of the world has no real conception. Now that the southern winter has finally hit that burn-your-palate hot gravy really earns its price.
We used to have pies that we could order in primary school. This was in early 1970s. The taste I remember was a really distinctive peppery and chewy one which went sensationally with tomato sauce injected into the pie.
I’ve never had a comparable tasting pie since. The rational part of the brain says - pepper = strong taste to cover up questionable cooking, and chewy = the non-meat parts of [optimistically] cattle. The nearest taste is some pepper-steak pies from the Michelles Patisserie chain but still pretty wide of the mark.
Possibly improved food hygiene and a nanny-state insistence that a beef pie contains primarily cow-derived meat will forever deny me my own Proustian fall-back into a youthful reverie. But, for that I can always eat paste [Perkins Paste - the breakfast of champions].
Onion rings - The Varsity, simply the best onion rings anywhere
Biscuits and gravy - my maternal grandmother, never had either made as good as she used to
twenty years ago I bought a deep fried pork won ton from a booth at a college “Diversity” fair.
I’ve spent the last 20 years trying to find one to come close. I can make one now that is pretty darn close, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to compete with the moment, late night and hungry trying a food for the very first time with a group of good friends.
I grew up in a remote part of northeastern Newfoundland. We picked a lot of berries(blueberries,partridgeberries,bakeapples,raspberries and (wild)strawberries) in the summer. All of the desserts made from these by my mom were awesome, but even fresh berries with milk and a little sugar were good too. I’ve bought blueberries and raspberries once in a while from the supermarkets since then, but they don’t come close to the flavor.
The husband and I both love cannoli, so we order it whenever we can. All cannoli are judged against the cannoli from Dave’s Italian Kitchen in Evanston, IL, even though it’s been about 20 years since we’ve eaten there.
Mike’s Pastry in Boston is a close second.
Currently we are in California, where there is a dearth of cannoli.
Mmmmm, partridgeberry jam. Bakeapples. And other wonderful Newfoundland stuff. Moose in liquor. Cod cheeks. The occasional seal dinner.
I’m not from Newfoundland, but I married a Newfoundlander (from what is a remote part of, I guess, northwestern Newfoundland). I’ve spent a lot of time there. Wonderful.
Fried seafood = The Clam Box in Ipswich MA. Summer began (even if it was still April) when I could hear “Number 27, 27!”… “Smith for pickup, Smith!” from their loudspeaker.
Prime rib = My father-in-law. No need to order it when out, no matter what, it won’t be as good.
Roast beef sandwiches = Chicks Roast beef in Ipswich MA.(or any of the shops on the North Shore of Boston)
Chocolate chip cookies. Made by me. Everyone else seems to use something other than 100% butter, or something other than semi-sweet chocolate chips, or make the cookies too thick, or make them crisp (read: crumbly) rather than chewy. Mine are perfect.
Store berries are unfairly compared to wild berries. Whenever someone says they don’t like blueberries I imagine them trying to resist some blueberries from some of the hidden bushes I managed to find in Rhode Island…unreal.
I used to pick and eat berries from that tree until my stomach was nearly bursting. I actually couldn’t even walk home for a few hours.
They are sour and sweet and juicy and complex in a way that store berries don’t even approach. Why is that?
