implementing.taxman.regretted
Weather: chucking it down. 15C

The humble Aussie meat pie. Culinary equivalent of the Mullet haircut.

When Kelly told me she had a hankering for a pie for lunch, my enthusement was minimal. But it was a windy, wet day. We had not yet eaten and warming my empty belly with a hot snack would be useful. And we were parked right opposite a local bakery in Yea.

OK, I’m in. See if they have a plant-based option.

Returning a short time later, Kelly balanced a tower of takeaway coffee cups in one hand and scrunched in the other were two oil-stained paper bags.

Beef Burgundy for me….and for you I got a Spicy Thai.

I took a sip of my coffee. It was OK. I grabbed the pie. By my third bite in, it was clear this was no Mullet.

I say verily unto you:

The clouds did part and a golden shaft of celestial light illuminated the steaming, crisp, flaky crust. A choir of angelic spicy flavours did raise their Thai voices in a delicious resonance. The noodles (oh yes, there were noodles) did light up in an almost spiritual fibre-optic phosphorescence, plugging seamlessly into the dopamine receptors in my brain. My belly was warmed by a glowing bed of garlic and chilli embers.

All the vicissitudes and worries of the world fell away like crust crumbs. Just me and my pie. Even the coffee tasted better.

Wow.

Unexpected treasures are oftentimes the most valuable. This pie was, well….magnificent.

Ten out of ten….and it gets it’s own post.