Heaven knows what time mum had to get up in the morning before one of our outings in order to have the pasties ready to pack, well wrapped to keep them warm until lunch time, in the picnic baskets. As children we all disdained the though of plates and cutlery, preferring to hold these flaky delights lavishly adorned with a spoonful of tomato relish in our hands as we got on with the day's adventures.
My own children enjoyed pasties just as much, they were wonderfully sustaining and portable when we were away on a swimming event. However, I remain highly critical of my own ability to make them as good as mum did...
Simon, this post is for you and you know why.
I don't often make them any more...everything takes longer for me to achieve these days, but I have been listening to my audio book collection of Lilian Jackson Braun's "Cat Who..." stories recently and with the references to Moose County's cafe, "The Nasty Pasty", the prompt to get in and make some became too much for me. Yesterday I did get into it, making the pastry in the morning and leaving it to rest for a couple of hours while I got the vegetables sorted.
Sorry you missed out boys...