grandma's pasties
from 'down
under'
When one arrived at
the back door of Grandma's home, here in Australia, one could tell that
Grandma was making pasties, because the smell of chopped onion, grated
carrot and diced potato permeated the air. This was nothing however
to the wonderful smells that came from the oven when the pasties were
cooked and placed on racks to cool. Her pasties were wonderful to eat
at any time, even cold with lashings of homemade tomato sauce.
If I was visiting
when she was making pasties she would either give me a little bowl so
that I could make my own, which of course was exciting, or she would
let me help her and this was the grandmotherly seal of approval. The
pasties were genuinely handmade. Grandma would fix the large mincer
onto the edge of the kitchen table, and as children we were sometimes
allowed to help by turning the mincer handle while she held her fingers
over the meat in the shute at the top. I know she was concerned that
we should not put our fingers in there and she told gruesome stories
about fingers going through the cutters. The meat would firstly be diced,
onions peeled and diced, carrots, swedes and turnips peeled and minced.
Quite a time was taken over the preparation of the filling mixture and
Grandma certainly had a secret ingredient. Perhaps it was the correct
amount of salt and pepper, and perhaps a small pinch of nutmeg.
As I grew older she
taught me to fold over the top of the pasties in her famous twist. I
had to remember which pasty was mine; so that when they were cooked
I could eat my own, probably because the pastry had been well and truly
kneaded by my childish hands, unlike those prepared with Grandma's gentle
touch.
She had a large enamel
bowl, and would measure the flour into it. The dripping would then be
put into the centre of the flour, and be cut in with a knife. I can
remember the sound of that knife cutting in the dripping. She would
then make the flour and dripping into small crumbs using her fingers.
Lastly, water was added to make the correct consistency. Grandma's pastry
smelt good even before it was cooked, and I was sometimes allowed to
eat the scraps, although she said it would give me a stomach ache. She
encouraged me to make decorations for the top of the pie or tart with
the scraps of pastry, usually in the shape of a flower with leaves at
the side. She made the leaves with great detail, marking a stem in the
centre by pressing a knife into the leaf shape, and then with the end
of the blade marking the veins as well. I loved being able to have the
scraps of pastry, with which to make a small jam tart on a saucer. There
was great demand for the decorations once the tart was baked, and her
jam tarts and apple and currant tarts were a work of art, with the twists
of pastry dividing up the sections, with a pastry rose in the centre.
The result of these
experiences was that my children also have memories of me making my
own pasties, and allowing them to help with the pastry and to make their
own little jam tarts. I inherited my mother's mincer, and was therefore
able to continue the tradition. My son Michael, a baker, makes up to
two thousand pasties in a day. Probably in a fraction of the time it
used to take Grandma and me, but I think that it all comes down to making
pasties with passion, no matter what era we are in.
ABOUT
MARGARET: Please read
Margaret's article sweet
are the uses of adversity to learn about this buoyant, vivacious
woman. She is a writer, a cook and an entrepreneur.She is also a regular
contributor. click for
'margaret's kitchen down under.'
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