First Pie

I ate a pie. 

I'm not sure if I'm proud or will end up hating myself for this, but I ate a pie. 

Which is not to say that this was any ordinary footy pie. This pie was bought at a Farmer's Market. It had a star on it, so how bad could it be? People rave about them, these pie things. I've never been convinced. 

So, yes, this is the first pie I have ever eaten. Ever.

And why now? 

Well, I think as a young child I was told that pies were filled with horse meat, and the lips and bumholes of every other animal. Then you'd hear people complaining about the gristle, or the runny gravy. They've always seemed really unappetising to me. Like, no thank you. 

I will eat sausage rolls. And I love me a good pasty, particularly Cornish pasties from Adelaide bakeries. But I've always had a mental block with pies. 

So, why today? 

Just because. 

Maybe it's because I'm in another country, no matter how familiar it feels. I mean, in New Zealand, they drive on the left, the power outlets are the same as Australia, and the food is similar. 

Maybe it's because I'm in a country that prides itself on its pies.

Yesterday, Geetangeli offered me a glass of feijoa soda. I said why not. 

Turns out, I really like feijoa soda. It's a sharp, tangy taste - just up my alley. I bought a few cans for the road at the supermarket. We went to New World - which is basically Kiwi iteration of Coles - even the self-checkouts have the same voice. (The other supermarket, Countdown is just like Woolies).

Feijoas

Last night, we went out for a cheap and cheerful Chinese, that did good dim sum / yum cha. When asked if we were having Chicken Feet, I said why not. Turns out, I like yum cha chicken feet too. As it's Chinese New Year today, the place was heaving. And the Chicken Feet were great. 

This morning, on getting up, still on Melbourne time and all, Geetangeli and I went to the Riccaton House Farmers Markets. She's here most weekend picking put little things. We found some croissants for breakfast tomorrow morning - and had a look around. I was in love with the settings. Being a mild, overcast day, people were out in droves. The setting is stunning. 

So, I bought the pies for lunch. For me, it was a steak, caramelised onion and vintage cheddar arrangement. For Bob, a bacon, leek and something else. And a sausage roll for Geetangeli. 

What got me to try this was the man at the stall promised me they were fresh baked - and he knew what was in them. Both things won me over. They also looked tasty. Good pastry. Crisp and brown. In other words, it looked like if I was going to pop my pie cherry, these were the ones to do it with. If you're going to do it, do it well. All my Kiwi friends say that they make the best pies in the world here. 

And yes, this pie was lovely. No need to slather it with tomato sauce - in fact, that would ruin it. 

But would I rush into it again?

No. I think I'll return to being pie averse. But I've done it, and will leave it at that. 

I have Geetangeli to thank for turning me into an adventurous eater. We've known each other since 1986. She's Malaysian. She got me eating more spice. She taught me how to make her chicken curry, which I now find out is called Portuguese Chicken, a sort of alternative Adobo. I've never been without a bottle of kecap manis in the cupboard (sweet, thick soy sauce) ever since.  Because of her, I'm very willing to try things. Just not pies. 

It's good having friends like this.

Today's song: