AMONGST the onslaught of meat patties, stuff wrapped in wraps and ‘street food’, it’s somewhat comforting to be heading to an eatery with the sole intention of scoffing a pie.
Pies are homely, modest, unassuming, as British as Helen Mirren stood in a red telephone box sipping on Pimms. Or maybe the food equivalent of watching Countryfile at your Gran's with a cup of Yorkshire tea – everything is safe.
Having analysed all that Pieminister’s menu had to offer, there were but two questions demanding answers. 1. How many awarding bodies does the pie really need? And 2. Do Pieminister just make awards up?
Pieminister, a Bristol-based company spawned from a basement in 2002 by a cheffy bloke and a pubby bloke, have been flogging their pies from market stalls to festivals to pubs throughout the UK for years.
With permanent pie-shops in Bristol, London, Oxford and Trentham (somewhere near Stoke), Pieminister have recently opened a café-shop in NQ’s Smithfield buildings (across the road from Afflecks).
Pieminister on Church Street
They've managed to secure a choice little spot next to the corner of Church and Tib Street. Inside it's all very clean, tidy, inoffensive and ever so slightly industrial. There's exposed brickwork, a neon sign displaying the companies slogan, 'Live and Eat Pie' (a famous song by Paul McCartney) and light fixtures hanging over the tables that are destined to plague anyone over 5ft 10”.
They’ve employed that foxy marketing strategy that has become synonymous with trendy indie brands - think Innocent smoothies or Ben & Jerrys. Firstly, make one product very well, and secondly, promote indie hippie environmentally-conscious brand values – yeah sod you and your mass-produced peperami Unilever.
The only problem here is that Coca Cola own nearly all of Innocent smoothies and Ben and Jerry’s isn’t owned by Ben, or Jerry, but by Unilever and their bloody peperamis.
Wasn't that a Bond film?
Pieminister are yet to take this corporational plunge and sell out to the man, but with products now spread across supermarket shelves, one thinks that it can only be a matter of time before McDonalds buy them, sling them into a processor, dump them on a conveyor belt and ruin our pies.
But forget all that for now because first things first, they do make a ruddy good pie you know, and my waitress insists that they are still hand-made ‘in a manner of speaking’ (I’m not sure in what manner she used the term manner but my manners dictated that I didn’t ask).
They’re so good in fact that they’ve been showered with all manner of Pie’y accolades: Great Taste Awards, British Pie Awards and Baking Industry Awards.
Looking at the menu there was only really one option for me, the almighty Mothership (£7.95) which included pie, mash, mushy peas, crispy shallots and grated cheese.
My decision of course was in no way swayed by the five other blokes sat in the restaurant all eating the Mothership and envisioning that if I didn’t order this whopping mound of food (and a beer), they may all pin me down, call me a nonce and tweak my nipples – The Mothership it was.
The Mothership: Pie, mash, peas, shallots and cheese. Yum
But which pie (all £4.20)?
Should it be the Heidi pie (champion at the British Pie Awards) with goats cheese and sweet potato, or the chicken of Aragon pie (also champion at the British Pie Awards… hold on a sec?) with chicken, bacon and tarragon. I settled for the moo pie (Gold Medal, Britain’s Best Steak Pie) with steak, ale and cracked black pepper.
Having analysed all that Pieminister’s menu had to offer, there were but two questions demanding answers. 1. How many awarding bodies does the pie really need? And 2. Do Pieminister just make awards up? A full Dispatches style investigative report to follow.
Awards to throw pies at
Pieminister also offer up a small, but entirely practical selection of drinks. With one particularly strong IPA, weighing in at 6.8% (£4.40), a Bristol stout (£4) and a lager from the Camden Brewery (£3.60), a few 'real' ciders (£3.80) and a selection of three wines: one red, one white, and bugger me, one rosé (all £3.50 for an 187ml glass… 187ml? Bit odd, but 12ml better than 175ml so who cares).
The only let down was there was nothing on tap.
Camden Hell Lager: Heavenly to drink
Having ordered a sweet, clean and none too-hoppy Camden Hells Lager the waitress brought it back in around seventeen seconds, a near-record for Northern Quarter. Was she not aware of the area's apathy toward quick service? Did she not realise that too much customer awareness is considered mainstream around these parts? I suppose she’s new, she’ll clock on soon enough.
But the speed at which my beer arrived wasn’t the first surprise, noticing on the menu that the mushy peas were minted, I un-optimistically asked whether there were any none minty peas, "No, but I can make you some if you’d like." Amazing.
Not only was my beer on the table in record time but my waitress was going to pop into the back and especially mush me some made-to-order mushy peas. Great stuff.
Pieminister interior
When the Mothership touched down on the table (in under five minutes), I could see that I had a battle on my hands. Inevitably, when ordering a pie and mash, the first thing you’ll look at is portion size, after all this isn’t molecular gastronomy. We’re looking for good wholesome flavours backed up by a hefty helping. Pieminister didn’t disappoint.
The size of the pie was only equalled by the mound of mash nestled snugly by. The mash potato was just creamy enough, not so buttery as to induce heart failure but not so bland that it tasted like Smash packet mash.
The peas could have been more gelatinous but were made-to-order so I couldn’t grumble, while the crispy shallots and grated cheddar cheese lovingly splayed across the top of the whole affair added a welcome extra dimension to the dish, their sharpness playing off against the solid flavours of the pie, mash and peas.
None minted mushy peas please
To the main event, the (moo) pie. Now as far as I can see there are four main elements that constitute a successful pie. Firstly, the pastry, it needs to be a sturdy wall of pie-case without being too dry or crumbly. Check. Secondly, the base, it needs to hold out amongst the onslaught of gravy and keep shape, hold it all together. Check. Thirdly, the gravy needs to be rich, flavoursome and thick without resorting to gloop. Check.
Fourthly and most crucially comes the filling. The filling needs to be substantial enough so as not to resemble a sorry and soggy Pukka-style puddle at the bottom of the pastry vessel. Check. It also helps if the meat in the filling (steak in this case) is chunky, that is if you’ve ordered a meat pie. And let’s be honest, why wouldn’t you want meat in your pie (veggies aside). The steak could certainly have been chunkier; sometimes straying a little towards the mincey, but was delicious all the same.
Pieminister interior
Post-pie and all the trimmings, feeling a little like Augustus Gloop, I slumped back and took stock of my new favourite little pie gaff in Manchester, well, the only pie-shop I’ve ever been to in Manchester.
I do hear that there's a young pretender and contender somewhere off Lever Street called Pie and Ale, and that they're serving ale in pint form. Good start. But also that their portions of mash are not monolithic. The editor says he's reviewing that one shortly.
The only problem now is that the criteria by which I judge all pie shops, nay, every food establishment from now on is: Will they, or will they not mush me my own special mushy peas...
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Pieminister, Smithfield Building, 53 Church Street, Northern Quarter, M4 1PD.
Open Mon - Fri 11am-8pm, Sat 11am-6pm, Sun 12pm-4pm.
Rating: 15/20
Food: 7.5/10
Service: 4.5/5
Ambience: 3/5
