I don’t ever want to see a pork pie again in my life
When I was at school, I’m not sure if Home Economics – as it was known then – was even an option for an O-Level.
I remember making a quiche and also being taught how to peel veg.
Other than that, it’s had little memory recall impact.
Now, however, it’s Food Technology and it's a lot fancier.
It involves meal plans, pictures, understanding food standard guidelines and making several demonstration dishes.
Whether my daughter will ever get to do the GCSE exam is unknown.
What is known is that our house constantly smells of lard.
The reason for this 'Christmas-into-New Year aroma' is thanks to one of the items my daughter is trying to perfect.
And it is... The Hot Water Crust Pork Pie.
Lucky me, you might be tempted to think.
Pork pies are wonderful, and there seems little doubt on that point.
After all, they prop up the picnic.
They excel nestled next to the pickle.
They beat the scotch egg with ease
owever, there’s always an emotional food limit.
I’ve lost count of the number of these pies I’ve eaten.
As I write this, we have pork pie and salad for dinner.
It’s got to the stage where even my daughter has said she’d rather not see one ever again, but we press on.
You might be tempted to ask the philanthropic question: ‘Just give them to your neighbours?’
Yes, you’d be right that neighbours have enjoyed her wares in the past.
It is far easier to tempt people when we’ve had a glut of blueberry muffins or rice crispy tray-bake chewy things.
Wandering over to a neighbour with some high-fat porkbased products that’s still warm and made by a child gives most ordinary human adults an instant stomach ache, even though she’s actually got a five-star food certificate!
Those green number signs you see in a takeaway window.
If a teenager can get a five-star rating, how on earth do some adults only get three.
Careful, I feel another stomach ache coming on.
Even with the relentless tsunami of pork products, I continue to push them down with a fatherly smile and encouraging words that would make the town of Melton Mowbray well up with tears.
So, the real.issue here is the makingHof the pastry.
To construct it, you have to boil lard and water, then pour it on your flour mix.
IAnd yes, i stinks.
Lard is not as popular as it was when I was a child.
My mum used to ask me to put slithers of it in a Yorkshire pudding tray when I was a kid.
Those were the days when lard always seemed to be around but not so now.
Last weekend, we had the ultimate perfect storm of odour.
The dog had been out for a walk and was soaked.
My daughter was melting more lard.
I lit a discounted wax burner and dropped on a surprisingly cheap pomegranate and coconut cube of hope.
The house started to smell like a Caribbean island that has a significant sewage issue. It was rotten.
I walked upstairs to continue my smell survey and unfortunately wandered past my son's bedroom.
I thought it smelled strongly of old pork pie. Maybe I’m developing pie-related mental trauma?
I ventured in only to see two half-eaten pies degrading next to his computer.
I could have been irritated that he left them there.
I could have been frustrated that they weren’t even on a plate.
However, as I reluctantly picked them up whilst wincing, I thought ‘at least he’s trying’. We’ve all been trying.
It's just pies the limit!
The house started to smell like a Caribbean island that has a significant sewage issue