Beatrice was on Facebook today, extolling the virtues of pork pies. Apparently the very sight of one weakens her knees (and presumably her dieting resolve).
Personally, I can't stand the things.
Pork pies did feature in our childhood. Mostly they were large and round and were sliced and handed round to be eaten with salad. The raised pastry crust, although golden and tempting to look at, was solid and heavy. Next there was a very nasty pale wobbly meat jelly. Finally, in the middle, there was a fairly solid lump of pink pork meat. My main problem was how to dispose of the worst bits without Daddy or Mamma noticing. The jelly was most definitely the most unpleasant part. As far as I was concerned, jelly came in red, green or orange and had fruity bits in it. This stuff tasted vile and felt in the mouth like the kind of food that might feature at a Hallow e'en horror party.
Sometimes Mamma and Daddy would buy a pukka Melton Mowbray pork pie, often from a stand at the Ideal Home Exhibition. These were the Platonic ideal of pork pies, the pie to which all others aspire; although the only difference I could detect was that they had a lot more jelly in them.
We were also given veal and ham pies from time to time. These were usually bought as slabs at the grocers or deli, cut from an oblong pie. They were marginally better than the pork pies in that they had no jelly and the meat tasted better. Also, unless you were very unlucky, they had a big slice of hard boiled egg in the middle. Well and away the best bit, even if they tasted a bit of ham.
As always. my dietary preferences were at odds with the rest of the family and I somehow found that I couldn't get my point across and only had recourse to sulking.
Actually, Paul has just told me that my food tastes are "odd" so maybe I'm not just at odds with my family on this, but the whole world. What I do know is that Melton Mowbray is not on my list of towns to visit.
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