Pie, Wonderful Pie

Pie, pie, glorious pie. A hollow pastry filled with all the somewhat dodgy-yet-pleasurable mush and pieces of flesh masquerading as 'meat', baked to near perfection, frozen, then re-heated and sold to unsuspecting customers. If there was ever a pastry hierarchy, the pie would be the proletariat; at the bottom of the social ladder, but essential and hardy. The foundation on which all other pastries sit upon, the pillars that hold up the puffs and the pavlova's (although they're technically not pastries) and their ilk.

Oh, yes, I do love me them pies, sir.

And that's one of the things I find so attractive about this place. The pies. The sheer number of pies produced, the variety of these which may perhaps one day rival Willy Wonka's creations. I'm sure the world could use more marmalade-filled meat pies. Yes, indeedy. Feeling the munchies? Shell out a buck or two and receive, in return, one of Western civilization's finest accomplishments.

Of course, one must be a discerning customer. For even among these miracles-in-a-flour-shell there are ones far more dodgy than others (as almost all pies are dodgy...can't argue with that logic). Price is usually a good indicator; in the pie world, what you pay is often what you get. Buy that cheap steak-and-cheese sitting quietly in the dairy, prepare to face an abomination with a crust so think you end up with only a smidgen of gravy and a smattering of meaty bits. And even that won't necessarily be worth all the effort you put into chewing it. So unless you don't have the money (in which case you shouldn't be buying that pie), find it in your heart to let go of some loose change and enjoy a pie. A good pie.

And what exactly do I mean by a good pie, you ask? Well, that's something you'll have to learn for yourself, grasshopper.

In the meantime, I'll go foraging for one of those rare smoked fish pies Maketu makes...now that is a first among equals. The pastry just right, stuffed with white fish gravy (no gelatine, at least that's what the wrapper said :D), and bits of real smoked fish generously added within. It's sealed happiness, that's what it is. Words fail to describe how it tastes. Failed a test? Grab a fish pie. Getting stressed from piling deadlines? Grab a fish pie. Fish pie. Makes it all better. At least for a few hours, after which you may start regretting why you bought a pie rather than study some more.

Amen.

[End Transmission]