Sunday
Who ate all the pies?
At the country pub yesterday, we saw Hooky Pie on the menu. We asked what that was, and learned that it's locally-made beef and ale pie. It was, according to the woman behind the bar, very popular, and they usually sell out of it quite quickly. It certainly sounded like an appropriately hearty meal for a December day by an open fire. Then the couple at the table next to us each received that very dish, and the deal was sealed: it was huge, meaty, and tasty-looking. Three of our group of four ordered the Hooky Pie.
A few minutes later the bartender came back with bad news: only two portions of pie left. One of the girls took one for the team and ordered fish pie instead.
When our food finally arrived, it was as tasty as promised. Delicious. Thick. Oozing gravy. Huge chunks of beef, too, not a ground-up mush. Luckily, the fish pie was just as delicious an alternative for those that took it.
A family, with three kids, came in when we were finishing and tried to order the Hooky Pie. "Sorry," the bartender said, "we're all out." Without a pause, she pointed at our table and said, "They took the last pies." Five pairs of hungry eyes glared at us from across the pub. We cast our eyes downwards and finished our pints.
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A few minutes later the bartender came back with bad news: only two portions of pie left. One of the girls took one for the team and ordered fish pie instead.
When our food finally arrived, it was as tasty as promised. Delicious. Thick. Oozing gravy. Huge chunks of beef, too, not a ground-up mush. Luckily, the fish pie was just as delicious an alternative for those that took it.
A family, with three kids, came in when we were finishing and tried to order the Hooky Pie. "Sorry," the bartender said, "we're all out." Without a pause, she pointed at our table and said, "They took the last pies." Five pairs of hungry eyes glared at us from across the pub. We cast our eyes downwards and finished our pints.
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