john_morris_uk
Well-Known Member
There are all sorts of things on the internet - and I was idly wasting a few moments surfing when I cam across some reports on The FB pies which are so beloved of some on these forums. I like to go sailing with my family - and I know that if I suggested for a nano-second that FB pies were going to be on the menu then I would be eating and sailing by myself in the future. The report can speak for itself:
First of all, a disclaimer. This isn’t about steak and kidney pie. It’s about chicken and mushroom pie. There wasn’t a category for that and when you suggest a product to Ciao it generally takes ages for them to be arsed to add it. I haven’t got that kind of patience, frankly. Anyway, you’ll probably like the chicken and mushroom one more. After all, kidney tastes just offal (apologies).
Believe it or not, I have never in my life had a Fray Bentos pie. That’s unusual, given that my diet consists mainly of peanuts, toast and the occasional banana. You’d think Fray Bentos pies would have slotted quite nicely into that list of nutritionally deficient foods. It might be because I’m Irish. We are not quite as beloved of tinned pies as the English are. There are other contrasts between the English and the Irish, mind. We’re more whimsical and charming and less obnoxious when in pubs abroad. We are more prone to gingerness, though, which levels the balance slightly.
When I do feel like having pie for tea, I generally head to my mum’s house. However, at the moment she’s on a mission to reduce the volume of food she has in her chest freezer. She’s on a hiding to nothing. Dig deep enough in there and you’ll find sides of beef and once, startlingly, a whole lamb. It’s not beyond the bounds of possibility that there’s a few neighbourhood pets crammed in there. Anyway, rather than going for what some would perceive to be the sensible option of buying less stuff and eating the stuff that’s already in there, she chose to remove all extraneous packaging from the food and then use the back of a shovel to pack it all in a bit more tightly. This resulted in misshapen and largely unidentifiable food. Thus, the last time I was there and she was cooking pie for dinner her response to my inquiry as to what was in the pie was, ‘well, I think it’s minced steak. But it could be pigeon. Or cherry. It’ll be a surprise.’ I opted out. On phoning her later I found out that it was actually rhubarb, which she served up with mashed potatoes, carrots and gravy. My stepfather, with infinite wisdom, ate it and said nothing.
I, however, was still without pie. So I went off to Tesco’s and, on the recommendation of a friend from Yorkshire, bought a Fray Bentos pie. Yorkshire people all seem to be born with innate pie knowledge. It’s probably to make up for the ridiculous accents. When you get to your local supermarket you’ll find them (the pies, not Yorkshire people) with all the other tinned stuff. I don’t normally supply this level of purchasing information because I can’t be arsed but in this case it’s necessary. Fray Bentos, you see, also make some of their pies in pudding format. I don’t know what the hell’s up with that. The aforementioned Yorkshire friend assures me that this is quite normal. However, puddings are sweet. Pies are mainly savoury. In an attempt to explain the whole conundrum to me he said that a steak and kidney pudding was just a deep filled pie. If I were you, I’d view the whole thing with suspicion and keep on walking to the proper pies.
When you get it home (I’m aware that I haven’t detailed how much it cost, by the way. I forgot to write that down on the back of my hand. Still, it’s only a pie. It’ll be less than 3 quid. Probably) you take off the lid. With a tin opener. I’m only telling you that because it took me a wee while to figure it out and I was smacking it with a fork and other utensils for ages before I realised. If you leave the lid on you risk one hell of an explosion. I know this because my ginger friend Paula once thought the optimum way to cook a tin of sweetcorn was to bung it in the oven at 180 degrees for half an hour. The ensuing chaos was entertaining but an oven’s quite an expensive thing to replace. I warn you; once you do manage to wrestle the lid off the thing the contents will look uninspiring at best. It just looks like a disc of wet lardy pastry. Anyway, stick it in the oven at 230 degrees (I think. Probably best to check the packaging on that score, though) and sit back and relax for half an hour. Or you could perhaps use the time wisely to prepare some carrots and asparagus as per the serving suggestion. Or, more realistically, you could shove a tray of oven chips in after the pie and go and have a cigarette and read comics (that’s what I did).
After the allotted time you will return to find that the pastry has risen really high and has also turned out to look quite tasty. It’s like a kind of pie magic. Then you have to serve it. The one I got was for two people, but you’d need to do loads of vegetables/chips/bread (depending on how lazy you are) to make a proper meal out of it. Serving it is also a bit tricky. If you’re seriously averse to washing up, or are a student, you could eat it out of the tin. If you like your meals on plates, you need to lever the pastry bit off and find a clean bit of kitchen counter to set it on (easier said than done in my house). Then you spoon out the contents and set the pastry on top, creating the illusion of homemade pie tastiness. This is where the wheels start to come off the wagon for Fray Bentos. The contents were at least 80% sauce/gravy. I counted just 8 bits of chicken and 2 mushrooms. I was as outraged as it’s possible to be over a pie related incident. Also, the chicken was an odd colour. Usually, you expect chicken to be white or slightly yellowish if it’s corn fed or organic (which, casting no slurs on the good people of Fray Bentos, I suspect their chicken is not). This chicken had more of a magenta hue. It couldn’t have been raw, as it was in the oven for 30 minutes and was piping hot when I tested it. All that remains, logically, is that Fray Bentos have some kind of training camp for pink chickens. I don’t even want to think about that.
Appearance aside, the pastry bit was lovely in a crumbly and fluffy way. The chicken was eccentrically coloured but tasted alright, the mushrooms took a bit of finding but seemed to be all that mushrooms can be, and the sauce had an unexpected and really quite strong metallic tang. Even putting an amount of salt on that will no doubt have notched my blood pressure up by a few points failed to take it away. In the end I gave up on it and just had the pastry. Now, I’m sure we all know that pastry and chips is a satisfying and delicious dinner but even so, I feel let down by Fray Bentos (and also by Yorkshire people but that’s a different matter). Fray Bentos promised me a lovely pie with chicken and mushrooms. What they delivered was some spectacularly genetically engineered chicken chunks in tainted mushroom soup with a pastry lid.
The moral of the story is: don’t trust Fray Bentos. They lie about their pies. Don’t trust people from Yorkshire, either.