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August 6, 2018 | by  | in Food | [ssba]

Pie in the Sky

After stomaching Z’s latest promotional pie, the Peri-Peri chicken pie, Mylo turns to me for a belated chat.

Mylo: Gee, I love pies. You know I think Z struck something here with their “Pie Capital” marketing campaign. Now, in the darkest recesses of my mind, Z feels more like home to me than BP, or Caltex, or Gull.

Me: They had me at Beef Rendang pie, everything else is a non-sequitur. Besides, I know you’ve always been a pie-romaniac.
Mylo: I think they call it piety, actually.
Me: Yeah, I’m happy for you. Obviously you know that Wellington’s pie scene isn’t the best, maybe with some high points in Island Bay and Hataitai, otherwise, I reckon solid pies are found up north.
Mylo: Woah, big call. I love pies so much, it’s like a drug addiction, only cooler. Can you understand? I was reading the papers the other day and someone said that food is the new rock n roll. Perhaps I should be a pieoneer. Start a shop or stand or something selling pies, my way. Turning a passion into a project, turning love into money…
Me: You sound inspired. You could use my recipes if you want. Like the velvety dhal pie for vegans, or even my personal fav mussel pie with miso and mushroom. There are so many directions you could go with it. The assessment is two-fold, a good casing for a good filling. You can’t have one without the other. Then, it’s a matter of what you want to say through your pie; staple pies done well, or fusion-nostalgia pies like Z, or you could even go Wellington on a Plate wanky, with expensive sounding gourmet pies.
Mylo: Ohh please don’t say Wellington on a Plate to me, with their serving of rich white liberal snobbery. Pies are a common person food, I wanna stay true to that. Which is not to say that it should be eaten with a can of V, but nevertheless I digress. What I was gonna say was, haven’t you noticed that lots of Pākehā are a bit edgy around mussels?
Me: Yes, its tragic, but also endearing somehow. Guess you can’t sell those mussel-miso pies then. In fact I did once feel like I was the only person buying the mussel pies from New World Metro, eventually, they pulled it off the shelf. Could you please bring it back? For me?
Mylo: Ugh, do I have to cater to mainstream Pākehā preference?
Me: Crust me, it’s Wellington, there’s no escape. They don’t fuck with no kaimoana. It’s business, and also sociological reality. It’s not personal, sink or swim mate.
Mylo: Neither, I wanna be like a mussel, just sitting on rocks, soaking it all in, hard yet soft. Why can’t we be more pie-curious, not adhering to all these boring and rigid customs and tastes?
Me: Yeah hard bro, I’m all about us being more pie-curious. Colonial orthodoxy does play it’s part, no doubt, it’s instructing from the recesses of our minds, the same place the infatuation with Z petrol kiosks are found. It’s something we need to unwork on so many levels. But, also it could just be the texture of mussels or something, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea…
Mylo: Texture? What do you mean, it’s a wonderful texture! It’s almost like kissing… kissing a short tongue if you will. What a sensation!
Me: Sure thing, Donald…
Mylo: Hey, all I’m saying is I wanna have a piece of the pie too. Look at these Fratelli and Bresolin brothers etc, they’ve got a finger in every pie! Literally, selling spaghetti for $20 and the whole city sings their praise. Really, that ain’t good enough for me.
Me: Well, first may I recommend you some humble pie. Second…
Mylo: Stop pretending to be agreeable, I know you hate Mr Go’s and all the rest of it too. The whole concept is an affront to us.
Me: Okay fine, you’re right. I don’t wanna get started on that incase someone might overhear us. Anyway, I’ve got to go now. Nice talking.
Mylo: Goodpie, Butter Chicken.

Me: Goodpie, Mince and Cheese.


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