Canned Pie

Alright, another adventure in British processed foods: the savoury pie in a can. Overall, for food out of a can, I was impressed. This steak and ale pie was much better than the Hunger Break mush-meat I'd tried previously, except for the last few bites...


The pie gets its name, Fray Bentos, from a town in Uruguay where it means "Friar Benedict". The name was applied to a line of British products made by oh-so-appetizingly named "Liebig Extract of Meat Company" whose main production site was in the town. I think it's all owned by Cambell's Soup now and made in the UK.

Pie prep: First, the can states that you need to remove the lid before baking. There may be a future blog regarding the results of making the pie whilst skipping that step. Lid off, the can reveals a thick layer of what appears to be raw dough -- the can says it's puff pastry. A bit of very thick brown gravy was trying to ooze out at the edge of the dough.


Next, slide the can into a hot oven for 25 minutes. I was home alone, making this for lunch, so instead of setting a timer, I just went back to work in the office upstairs and waited until I could smell a burnt pie crust permeating the house. I sorta forgot I was making it: I was that excited by this pie.


I didn't really know what to expect when I opened the oven, but I didn't expect the Jiffy-Pop- inspired exploding crust. It seems our oven runs a bit hot, so in less than 25 minutes we had slightly charred pie.


The crust was impressive, but I had to see what was underneath it. I violated the pie and revealed a thick layer of dark brown gravy and chunks of ... well ... let's call it minced "steak".



I was hungry so the pie wasn't all that bad. The meat wasn't too mushy, the gravy (at first) had a passable flavour and texture, and the crust had a decent flake to it. After a bite or two, I doused the whole thing in Vulcan fire salt (a habanero and spice infused salt) -- it needed a little something something to get me through the whole thing. As the pie cooled, though, whatever thickeners and stabilizers lived in the gravy made the last few bites take on an unnatural consistency not unlike very thick chocolate pudding from a box. It stuck to the fork, coated my throat, and nearly made me wretch. Next pie, I eat faster.


The damage: Over 800 calories and 40 grams of fat, balanced out by 35 grams of protein. Not as bad as drinking a quart of real custard, but not nearly as tasty, either.

Cheers!

PIE, n. An advance agent of the reaper whose name is Indigestion. - The Devil's Dictionary (Ambrose Pierce)