Leicestershire’s pie in the sky
What’s your favourite breakfast? Cereal? Coffee? A friend of mine, who hails from Leicester, likes to start the day with pork pie and brown sauce. Yes, perfectly serious.
In Leicestershire, the pork pie is king. It’s used in sandwiches (with brown sauce), eaten by itself (well, with brown sauce) and on Christmas morning the good folk of Leicester used to queue up at Walkers pork pie purveyors (yes, that is the same Walkers as the crisps) for a takeaway packet of breakfast goodness to tuck into (with brown sauce) before the turkey goes in the oven. Although my friend’s family now lives far from Melton Mowbray, they still defrost one of a December morning and wolf it down with brown toast and butter. Oh, and brown sauce.
While the rest of the country may not have had quite the same devotion to pie as the East Midlands faithful, pork pies have seen a resurgence in recent years, after an iffy period when they were synonymous with leathery Ginsters and cheapo picnics. Now they’re solid gastro-pub fare and it’s acceptable to say in polite society what we’ve all been thinking for years: “I do like a good pork pie.”
But how are they made? They look rustic enough, but could I make one? I decided to find out.
DIY pie?
I’m not the sort of person who makes my own pastry and, to be honest, I’m not even the sort of person who makes my own pies (due to an unfortunate oven failure), but some things are worth the effort. So, taking Nigel Slater’s Pork Pie Recipe, I armed myself for the struggle. The shopping list starts: lean pork, fatty pork, even fattier pork, lard. Hmm.
So, first, I need to make the jelly, which in England is called “stock”, which calls for pig’s trotters, bones, savoury vegetables, herbs and peppercorns. This witches’ brew takes about an hour to bubble, before being refrigerated to see if it’ll turn to jelly. Next, the pie. Having diced all the meat with infinite care and patience, I mixed it with chopped sage and thyme, as well as white pepper and ground mace (the outside casing of nutmegs) and freshly grated nutmeg. The recipe seemed to underestimate the need for pepper, so I upped the dose.
And now, the pastry. I thought this would be incredibly complicated, but it’s the easiest thing I’ve ever made. Having chucked lard and water in a pan, I boiled it, then added it to flour and mixed. That’s it. Literally. I set aside about a quarter for the lid, then chucked the rest in a greased deep cake tin. (A pie the size of a cake! What a wonderful thought…) The technique is to push it to the sides by hand while it’s still warm, taking care to leave no gaps for the juices to ooze through. It’s pretty easy, in fact, especially if you do a bit, then add some pork mixture and press down, then carry on up the sides.
Then I placed the lid on, sealed with a bit of beaten egg on the edges. As well as making a hole in the middle (essential for steam release and pouring the jelly in later), I crafted some cute little pastry leaves to put on top, and pressed the prongs of a fork around the edges so the raised bits would crisp. The recipe didn’t call for this but, hey, I’ve eaten a pie and that’s what they look like.
I put it into the oven at 180oC for half an hour, then 90 min at 160oC. Then it was time to brush the top with beaten egg for a golden sheen, and put back in for 30 mins. When it had finished, it was a delicious brown and had shrunk back from the edges. People entering the room exclaimed, “Mmmm!” – a good sign.
The stock had jellified, but just a little, so I melted it and reduced it further. Then all that had to be done was pour it in. This turned out to be by far the most difficult part. The molten jelly had a terrible habit of overspilling the little hole and going all over the top of the pie — its fault, of course. In the end, the pie would take no more, so I put it in the fridge for an anxious overnight wait.
Pride of Leicestershire
So, how did it turn out? It looked magnificent – and it tasted fantastic. Huge, melty and meaty, with crisp pastry and salty jelly. It was all that a pie should be. Sure, there are adjustments I’d make. I’d use a higher proportion of lean meat; although the pie’s taste relies on the fat, too much can make it a bit mushy. I’d also add more salt and pepper – and be more careful at pouring the jelly, as there were holes where it didn’t quite penetrate. But in a way, the imperfections made it more lovable. And best of all: I have made a pork pie. Me. A pork pie. I made it! I feel like Mrs Beeton.
Would I do it again? Absolutely. But it’s very labour intensive – so not very often. Till then, I’ll have to make do with a Melton Mowbray special. With brown sauce.
Deborah Duke
See Deborah’s own blog:
http://debbiedoesdining.typepad.com
