Meat pies: A rose by any other name
I thought I would try something new at the bar downstairs. The choices were chicken curry (had that a couple of days ago), rice salad (right, because I still haven’t recovered from the Peace Corps) and chicken wings (really, that’s a meal? And I still don’t like bones on my plate.) You know what I never had before? A meat pie. We just don’t have those in America. At least, not in the Pacific Northwest – or any other place that I have lived. It may not be Maltese, but it is probably English. Let’s try that.
The guy behind the counter heats it up and hands it to me.
“How should I eat this? Is there anything that I should add to it?”
“You want me to add salad to it? Because I can do that,” he says.
“Is that what you normally do? Because I have never had one of these before.”
“No, we just eat it like that,” he says.
I cut the pie with my knife, and the knife pierces the aluminum foil pie pan. I think about it, and decide that I don’t really need to add aluminum to my diet. So I flip the meat pie upside down and that’s when the truth of the thing hits me. We do have these in America. They’re called “pot pies.” Dang it! A rose by any other name…
The guy behind the counter heats it up and hands it to me.
“How should I eat this? Is there anything that I should add to it?”
“You want me to add salad to it? Because I can do that,” he says.
“Is that what you normally do? Because I have never had one of these before.”
“No, we just eat it like that,” he says.
I cut the pie with my knife, and the knife pierces the aluminum foil pie pan. I think about it, and decide that I don’t really need to add aluminum to my diet. So I flip the meat pie upside down and that’s when the truth of the thing hits me. We do have these in America. They’re called “pot pies.” Dang it! A rose by any other name…