For your pies only
Sophie Conran guides you through the history of the humble pie and offers some essential cooking tips to help you make your own
FOR YOUR PIES ONLY
We delve into the delicious history of the not-so-humble pie and work up an appetite for this classic British dish
COME WINTER, DON’T you long for the comfort of a pie? I do. It’s the kind of convenience food that your mother would approve of. They’re the culinary equivalent of a hug. There’s something magical about them. The first scoop breaks the surface to deliver the wonders contained below. They’re fantastic things, pies. And they have a history as rich and magical as their fillings can be.
THE HYSTERICAL AND SOMETIMES GRUESOME HISTORY OF PIES Can you imagine the commotion when that famous nursery rhyme pie (previous page) was cut open? The blackbirds would have flown around the king’s banqueting hall, up and around the rafters, extinguishing candles as they flapped over them. Birds squawking, people screaming, an over-fed king clutching his sides in merriment.
During the reign of King Charles V of France (1364-1380), such feasting and entertainment combined with extraordinary results. On one occasion an immense pie opened to the strains of 28 musicians playing within it. Henceforth it fell upon royal chefs to stage ever more elaborate and outrageous schemes, many using the pie as a foil. When it wasn’t birds, it was frogs or rabbits or turtles. Even dwarves were set into pies and later released to astonished guests. What showmanship.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Before the pie became a publicity stunt, bakers to the ancient Egyptian pharaohs incorporated nuts, honey and fruits into a bread-like dough. Carvings of these delicacies can be found etched on the tomb walls of Ramases II, possibly the world’s first celebrity pie fan. The Egyptians passed this primitive version of a pie on to the Greeks, who thoughtfully originated pie pastry. Then, when the Romans ran roughshod over the Greeks, they appropriated this delicacy and triumphantly delivered it home. Roman statesman Marcus Porcius Cato (Cato the Elder), who was known for his appreciation of fine food (a passion that was reflected in his girth, I fear), faithfully recorded a recipe for one of the favoured pie dishes from this era. Called a “placenta”, this precursor of a pie was a sheep cheese and honey cake, wrapped in pastry and oiled bay leaves.
Then the English took to pie making with gusto. To them, pies are both the food of kings and of paupers. They are the nearest thing the Brits have to street food. Recall yet another nursery rhyme: “Simple Simon met a pie man travelling to the fair.” Queen Victoria always served Emperor William I of Germany his favourite pie when he visited. This was no mean feat, as it contained a whole turkey stuffed with a chicken, the chicken stuffed with a pheasant, and the pheasant stuffed with a woodcock.
In the 1800s, Cornish tin miners used to carry their lunch down the pit in a pastry parcel (a pasty). Other miners did likewise; it was a convenient way of carrying lunch around as the dense, folded pastry could stay warm for hours when carried in a pocket close to the body and provided hungry workers with
a balanced meal, as it was filled with a mixture of meat and vegetables. There are conflicting reports as to whether the crust was eaten or not. Certainly in the mines it was used to protect the meal from the dirt and grime of the surroundings and was then thrown away. It is said that a good pasty should be strong enough to endure being dropped down a mine shaft; furthermore, that the devil would never go to Cornwall for fear of being banged up in a pasty – they put all sorts in them.
But as 2005 became known as the year of “bling” luxury, even pies did not escape this trend. It is reported that eight English businessmen from the north west of the country called into their local gastronomic watering hole and decided that they would celebrate a “good day at the office” with the pie to top all pies. Among the ingredients swiftly encased within an edible gold-leaf crust were lean cuts of steak from hand-massaged wagyu beef, a handful of rare Tibetan matsutake mushrooms and two bottles of 1982 Chateau Mouton Rothschild.
FOR THE MORE economical, pies are a great way to use leftovers. Chicken pie and shepherd’s pie are all fantastic made with leftover roast. The word “pie” is derived from the Middle English “magpie” and it’s easy to see why. Just like this avaricious bird storing precious objects in its nest, the cook can pack a pie with all manner of surprises.
I started making pies because, like many working mothers, I saw them as a great way to make use of my time. I could make them the night before and put them in the fridge or freezer to be reheated the next day. With a little bit of thought, it’s easy to ensure that a pie provides a balanced meal. It’s also a great way to disguise vegetables that might otherwise get pushed to the side of the plate by children.
So, what is a pie? Well, it’s obviously a baked dish with some sort of filling, often with a pastry casing or top, though sometimes not. They can be savoury or sweet, enclosed or open, with pastry or not, the right way up or even upside down. While they are often called a pie, sometimes it’s a pasty, a quiche or tart. Big or small, pies are wonderfully difficult to define. The term pie is even used to describe dishes that aren’t pies. An “Eskimo Pie” is one offender, being neither a pie nor containing a single shred of Eskimo. It’s a square of ice cream covered in chocolate.
I don’t know of a country that doesn’t have its own pie. They are the unofficial national dish of Australia. You’ll find strudels in Germany, samosas in India, pumpkin pies in the United States. In Russia birthday cakes are commonly replaced by birthday pies. Instead of using icing to spell a message, the birthday pie has its greeting carved into the crust.
WHERE TO BUY AND EAT PIES
Due to poor pie perception, some pies have an image problem. It’s not surprising when there are certain people in the UK who produce pies using cheap ingredients and not an ounce of tender loving care. On the other hand, there are some wonderful cooks and pie creators. Some of my personal favourites are:
Last year’s winner of Restaurant Magazine’s UK’s Best Pie Award came as no surprise to me.
The Guinea Grill opened in 1952 and became an immediate hit, not least with visiting American tourists. Then, 15 years ago, manager Carl Smith developed his steak and kidney pie recipe and with it won the National Steak and Kidney Pie competition, an honour he has accepted two further times. In 2000, Smith’s pie was crowned Steak Pie of the Century, and they now sell a staggering 25,000 pies every year. Young’s Beer is the magic ingredient apparently; that and beautiful tender steak.
The Greyhound, a glamorous pub diner in Battersea, serves a hearty, grandly named pie. The Duke of Berkshire pork cheek and belly pie simmered in Somerset cider is another champion dish worthy of its aristocratic heritage.
My brother, Tom, owns a pub in Notting Hill called The Cow (he says he named it after me!), where they serve a daily “Cow Pie”. It’s a pie of the day, always delicious and sometimes not made from cow at all.
Overlooking the sea, apparently the closest restaurant to France, The Coastguard in Kent, famed for its locally caught fish, serves a pie packed full of seafood goodness.
The Guinea Grill
30 Bruton Place, Mayfair, London, W1J 6NL; +44 (0)20 7409 1728
The Greyhound 136 Battersea High Street, London, SW11 3JR; +44 (0)20 7978 7021 The Cow 89 Westbourne Park Road, London, W2 5QH; +44 (0)20 7221 5400
The Coastguard St Margaret’s Bay, Dover, Kent, CT15 6DY; +44 (0)1304 853 176
HOW TO COOK BIRDS, RABBITS AND OTHER LITTLE CREATURES IN A PIE
Using a nice, tough pastry and a suitably sized spring-form tin, butter the tin and line thickly with pastry. Cut a hole big enough in the base to fit whatever small animal you intend to place inside, fill the pie dish with bran, cover the top, brush with beaten egg, decorate and bake in the oven at 220ºC for 20 minutes or until golden. Carefully remove the whole pie from the tin, let the bran flow out of the hole in the bottom crust and replace it with a small bird or animal.
Be sure to read these instructions carefully before attempting this. We don’t want any tears.
OTHER GREAT PLACES TO FIND PIES
Dickenson & Morris sell Melton Mowbray pork pies, which are a surviving link to medieval raised pies, and part of our heritage. Mrs King’s pies come from Nottingham.
I buy mine from their stall in Borough Market. Pieminister make flavoursome pies. They have a shop in Bristol, but you can also find them around the UK. Forman & Field make traditional, gourmet pies and are available to buy online.
DICKENSON & MORRIS
Melton Mowbray, Leicestershire; +44 (0)1664 482 068; www..porkpie.co.uk
MRS KING’S PIES
Cotgrave, Nottinghamshire; +44 (0)115 989 4101. Borough Market, 8 Southwark Street, London SE1 1TL; www..boroughmarket. org.uk
PIEMINISTER
24 Stokes Croft, Bristol, BS1 3PR; +44(0)117 942 9500; www..pieminister.co.uk
FORMAN & FIELD
www..formanandfield.com
FISH AND FENNEL PIE WITH MASH
This pie came from my love of fish stew and combines fennel, tomato and saffron. The colours are fantastic.
SERVES 6
FOR THE FILLING:
75G (2½ OZ) BUTTER
300G (10 OZ) SALMON FILLET
265G (9½ OZ) HADDOCK FILLET
1 FENNEL BULB, CHOPPED INTO 1CM (½ INCH) CUBES, PLUS THE FRILLY TOP
2 TBSP OLIVE OIL
1 ONION, CHOPPED
1 LARGE GARLIC CLOVE, FINELY CHOPPED
1 LARGE RED CHILLI, FINELY SLICED
SALT AND FRESHLY
GROUND BLACK PEPPER
1 TSP TOMATO PUREE
400G (14OZ) TINNED PLUM TOMATOES
200G (7OZ) PINK JESTER TOMATOES, PEELED AND HALVED (THESE ARE VERY SWEET PLUM TOMATOES WITH A DENSER, LESS JUICY FLESH)
1 HANDFUL EACH OF FLAT LEAF PARSLEY LEAVES AND TARRAGON LEAVES, CHOPPED
FOR THE MASH:
300ML (10 FL OZ) MILK
1 GARLIC CLOVE, FINELY CHOPPED
1 TSP SAFFRON THREADS
900G (2LB) MARIS PIPER POTATOES, PEELED AND CUBED
100ML (3½ FL OZ) OLIVE OIL
Preheat the oven to 220ºC (425ºF/Gas 7). Butter two large pieces of tin foil. Place the salmon on one piece and the haddock on the other. Sprinkle the fennel tops over each. Draw together the edges of the foil to create two parcels. Place the parcels on a baking tray and bake in the oven for 10 minutes. After this time the fish should still remain slightly raw in the middle.
Heat the olive oil and the rest of the butter in a large frying pan. Dump in the onion and fry until soft and translucent, being careful not to let it brown. Add the fennel cubes. Fry for 15 minutes, checking and stirring it occasionally. Then add the garlic, chilli, salt and freshly ground pepper. Gently fry for a further four minutes. Stir in the tomato puree, and fry for another minute.
Pour in the tinned tomatoes. Simmer for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally and adding a little water if it becomes dry. Remove the pan from the heat and add the pink jester tomatoes. Set aside.
Once the mixture has cooled completely, stir in the herbs. Flake the fish into large chunks, and add it to the mixture. Stir it to combine, but be careful not to break up the fish. Set aside.
To make the mash, heat the milk with the garlic and saffron threads in a pan to almost boiling. Then remove it from the heat and set it aside to infuse. Cook the potatoes in plenty of salted water for 15 to 20 minutes until very tender when poked with a sharp knife. Drain well, return them to the pan and mash them a little. Place the potatoes and the milk infusion in a bowl, and blend them using an electric whisk. Pour the oil into the mixture in a steady stream, whisking all the time, until all the oil is combined into the potato.
Place the fish mixture in a pie dish and top it with the saffron mash, sculpting it into peaks with a fork. Bake in the oven for 30 minutes.
I like to serve with French beans, cooked then heated through with a little butter and chopped garlic.
Sophie Conran’s Pies is published on 6 November by HarperCollins (12.99). Her new pie range can be found in Sainsbury’s supermarkets, Greater London branches. www.sophieconran.com
