I really should know better… and I do… but sometimes… sometimes I just can’t resist.
I made something new for dinner tonight.
Since we are on a super tight budget most of the time the only meat I can afford to feed my three meat lovers is boring old mince, so in a quest to not die of boredom cooking the same thing night after night I bought a little recipe book today all about cooking with mince. It just so happened that we had all the ingredients to make the meat pie recipe so I figured ‘why not?’ After scrambling though the cupboards looking for something to cook it in (cooking is not my thing so surprisingly enough I didn’t just happen to have a 24 cm pie dish!) all is going well.
I got the filling cooking and the pastry defrosting nicely, I chose to cheat and use ready made pastry sheets rather than attempting my own! Then I wacked the pastry sheets into the dish, poured in the filling, put more pastry on top… cut off the excess… even made little leaves to go on the top out of the pastry just like the photo in the book. I put it in the oven with plenty of time to spare and all is good and right in my kitchen.
I turn back to the bench and see the little pile of left over pastry scraps. I remember as a child waiting and waiting while my Nan made pasties, complete with hand minced meat and handmade pastry, when she was all done and would let me eat a small scrap of raw pastry dough. It was always sooooooo yum and I always wanted more, but she never let me, told me it wasn’t good for me. My Nan was a wise woman, but I somehow forgot that today. Yes you guessed it, I ate a little bit of the pastry dough, them some more , then more, then the whole damn thing. Yum yum yum AND YUM!
I clean up and the pie cooks and I am feeling pretty damn proud of myself at this stage. I am suddenly really thirsty and have a big drink of water….. Then it happens. It feels like the pastry is swelling up inside of me and I feel bad, really bad.
Just the site of the crisp golden pastry on my beautiful pie is enough to make me want to hurl and serving it up for the meat lovers was torture. I had to sheepishly explain to Si why I wasn’t going to eat with him and the girls and went to have a quiet lie down. I still feel icky now more than 2 hours later!
My Nan turned 95 yesterday. She doesn’t make pasties anymore, not after the time a few years ago that she put apple instead of turnip in them. Her wisdom is much harder to come by now since she is now a young girl again worrying that her mother might scald her for ruining her best dress. But my Nan was a wise woman and next time I make a pie, I would do well to remember her wisdom!