New Years Pie

As narrow minded, or narrow-paletted as it might seem, I’m still going to do it and write my fourth blog entry about a subject that I wrote about in my second blog entry. The pie.

It’s not even as if I eat much pastry. I don’t. Having a wife who follows a reasonably restrictive diet and three children who I don’t want to spherise, I’d say we have pastry less often than once a month, at home certainly. What they eat when they’re in town with their friends, from at best The Real Patisserie, and at worst Greggs is another matter altogether.

There’s a majesty when it comes to pies though, a sense of occasion, especially if the pie is a big one that’s going to be shared, and then even more so if it’s the solid type that you cut like a savoury birthday cake. That’s the sort I made. It was about seven inches in diameter and about four and a half inches tall, straight sided, leaf pattern on top, and glazed with egg, and anyway there was a sense of occasion, because it was Christmas or to be precise, just after.

This year, for Christmas dinner we opted for a chicken but the one we got was absolutely massive. So big that we, I particularly, kept opening the fridge door and marvelling at it, or insisting that my family or guests marvelled at it with me. And after feeding five adults and three children (all whom have a healthy appetite, especially when it comes to chicken) I still had at least half the flesh on the bird left. )I told you it was huge). The meat sat in the fridge for a couple of days while I wondered what to do with it, soup? noodles? pasties?, when I happened upon a picture of a pie of Mr Toad-like pomposity and decadence that my mind was instantly made up. I built it (there’s no other word for it), on December 27th and we cut into it on December 30th. It was made with a slightly altered recipe from the River Cottage Meat Book for the pastry (I only had dripping, not lard), and then filled with a mixture of the fore-mentioned leftover chicken, sausagemeat, and a long and slow cooked mixture of onions, leeks and asparagus, all piled up in six layers, two of each ingredient (the veg together counting as one) and when it came out of the oven it was filled with the most intense dark-amber sweet rich jellied chicken stock I think I have ever made. 

It was served cold, in big wedges, mostly on the evening of the 30th December with one wedge leftover to be secreted into my pocket on a New Year’s Eve walk.

A Pie Of Mr. Toad-Like Decadence

For The Pastry:

13oz Plain Flour

2.25oz Beef Dripping

2.25oz Butter

2 small Eggs

1 teaspoon salt

135ml water

For The Filling:

The cooked meat from half a massive chicken (or all the meat from a chicken and a half)

The meat from six large good sausages

2 x onions

2 x leeks

1 x bunch of asparagus

1 x pint of very good dark chicken stock

4 x leaves gelatin

I made the pastry according to the River Cottage Meat Book, but substituting the lard for dripping. I put the dripping, butter and water in a saucepan and heat gently until melted (but don't let it boil). The flour and salt went in a mixing bowl then the eggs in a well in the centre, stirred around until they're mixed a bit and then the fat and water mixed in until it forms a dough (you can a dd a bit more water if it's too dry).The pastry went in the fridge to chill for at least an hour or it's too sot and liquid.

Meanwhile I got on with the filling. The chicken was already torn up and ready, and the sausagemeat just needed releasing from the skins. The vegetables were very slowly stewed together in olive oil with herbs and seasoning for a good 20 minutes.

When chilled I rolled the pastry out and lined the buttered cake tin with it, leaving it drooping over the sides The tin was seven inches across, oh and lined the bottom with parchment to be on the safe side.

To assemble I packed in half the sausage meat, followed by half the veg mixture, followed by half the chicken, and then repeated. The top was laid on, crimped around the edges, a 1cm hole cut out of the middle and leave decorations added before glazing. The into the oven (at 180 degrees) for 30 minutes. Then the temperature went down to 160 degrees for another one and a half hours.

While the pie cooked I heated up the stock and added the gelatin, then let it cool and once the pie was out and had chilled a little I carefully poured the stock into the hole in the top until it couldn't take any more. The into the fridge and the next morning it was released from the tin. Serious stuff.