You may not think of Cornish pasties as a romantic food, but they will always remind me of the time my husband, Andrew, sort of proposed.
Trying to appear casual, I mumbled something along the lines of, “Oh, cool, sounds good,” and for the rest of the evening, we acted as if this conversation never happened. The next day, we found ourselves in Cornwall, eating Cornish pasties and learning of their rich history. And while I loved both the meal and the history lesson, I was busy replaying the event of the previous night, trying to figure out how to talk about it while also sounding nonchalant.
Sinking my teeth into the pasty, chewing on the comforting and hearty filling, I contemplated betrothal, and whether my response was sufficiently enthusiastic but not so much so as to suggest desperation.
For years now, I’ve wanted to learn how to make Cornish pasties, if only because just thinking of them makes me think of that time in England when our lives were less complicated, before a child, a mortgage and several moves. In many ways, our relationship has grown to be a little bit like this sturdy, hand pie favored by 17th-century miners. Neither is frilly or fancy, and both are dependable, honest, comforting and nourishing.
According to the “Oxford Companion to Food,” the word pasty (pronounced pah-sti), came into English from the old French, which in turn got it from the Latin word pasta (dough). In the Middle Ages, pasties, which were typically consumed by the wealthy, tended to be large, filled with meat or fish, and generously seasoned.
Though pasty recipes can be found as early as 13th century France, Cornish pasties date back to 17th- and 18th-century England where they became popular with the working class, especially miners, who carried the pasties with them for a midday repast. To put it in contemporary parlance, Cornish pasties are the original Hot Pockets minus the microwave.
At one time, what went inside the pasty was anyone’s guess, prompting Irish cookery writer Theodora FitzGibbon, quoted in the “Oxford Companion of Food,” to write: “It is said in Cornwall that the Devil never crossed the River Tamar into that county for the fear of the Cornish woman’s habit of putting anything and everything into a pasty.”
But in 2011, Cornish pasties were granted Protected Geographical Indication status by the European Commission, so to qualify as a Cornish pasty, the pasty must be prepared — though not necessarily baked — in Cornwall; and the filling ingredients must contain potato, onion, rutabaga and cubed beef (usually skirt steak), seasoned with salt and pepper, and encased in short crust pastry, often made with a mixture of lard and butter.
The pasty must also be shaped like a D and have a thick crimp on the side, not on top. The inside of the pasty must remain chunky, with individually identifiable pieces of filling. In the past, miners’ initials were carved into the pastry, most likely to discourage theft, and when the meat prices were too high, the steak was replaced by potatoes, for an all-vegetable pasty.
There’s plenty of lore to explain the thick, crimped crust: Designed as a handle of sorts, it allowed miners to hold the pie in their hands, which were often contaminated with arsenic. The leftover crusts would get tossed into the mine to encourage the good will of the mine spirits, known as “knockers,” who warned of impending collapse or the location of rich ore. You can also find photographs with pasties wrapped in paper or cloth, however, suggesting they were probably eaten whole as well.
While trying to nail down the best recipe and testing several versions, I realized a couple of things: Authentic pasty pastry (say that five times fast), is best made using protein-rich bread flour rather than all-purpose, and there’s no such thing as overworking the dough. You want to really knead the pastry to develop gluten and elasticity, which helps to produce a crust that holds its shape and serves as a carrying case for the meal.
When it comes to the filling, you want to chop the ingredients into bite-size chunks sizable enough to maintain their shape after baking. And under no circumstances should you use carrots in the filling, though I’ve yet to find anyone to explain why.
My only tweak is a modest addition of thyme leaves to the filling — the herb commonly used in English cooking complements the meat and vegetables with its earthy fragrance.
I like to make pasties as a hearty supper and serve them to my people. As I go through the process of making and kneading the dough, of carefully chopping the filling ingredients, of shaping, rolling and crimping the pasty, I think of how it’s those unfancy acts of love that add up to something. It’s the everyday work we put into taking care of those we love and that often goes unnoticed, that builds a strong foundation.
When you bite into a pasty, you’ll notice it’s not stewy and lush, but is instead spartan. Luxury, it is not. The few ingredients mean there’s nothing to hide behind, nothing is obfuscated, but at the same time, the meal is delicious, comforting and honest, like a good marriage.
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Make Ahead: The dough needs to be prepared at least 3 hours and up to 2 days before baking the pasties.
Storage: The dough can be tightly wrapped and refrigerated for up to 2 days and frozen for up to 2 months (defrost in the refrigerator overnight). Assembled and unbaked pasties can be tightly wrapped in plastic wrap, then foil, and frozen for up to 2 months; bake from frozen, adding 10 to 15 minutes baking time. Leftover pasties can be refrigerated for up to 3 days; reheat in a 350-degree oven for about 20 minutes before serving.
Where to Buy: Lard can be found at well-stocked supermarkets or at butcher shops.
For the dough
- 4 cups (500 grams) bread flour (see NOTES)
- 1 teaspoon fine salt
- 9 tablespoons (127 grams) unsalted butter, preferably high-fat European style, such as Plugra or Kerrygold (may substitute with vegan butter, such as Miyoko's Creamery brand, see NOTES)
- 1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon (118 grams) lard or shortening, see NOTES
- 3/4 cup (180 milliliters) ice water
For the filling
- 12 ounces (340 grams) skirt steak, cut into 3/4-inch cubes
- 10 ounces (284 grams) Yukon Gold potato, peeled and diced into 1/2-inch cubes
- 5 ounces (150 grams) rutabaga, peeled and diced into 1/2-inch cubes
- 1 small yellow onion (5 ounces/150 grams), diced into 1/2-inch cubes
- 1 1/2 teaspoons minced fresh thyme leaves or 3/4 teaspoon dried
- 1 teaspoon fine salt
- 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
- 1 large egg
- 1 tablespoon heavy cream, half-and-half, milk or water
Make the dough: In a large bowl, whisk together the flour with the salt. Add the butter and shortening or lard and, using your fingers, rub it into the flour until the mixture is crumbly, with varied size pieces of flour-covered fat the size of rice and small beans.
Add the water and mix with your hand until a wet, shaggy dough comes together, about 2 minutes, then knead in the bowl until it becomes elastic, 5 to 8 minutes. The dough will be very sticky, but as you knead, it will become smoother and pull little bits of dough from the sides of the bowl. This is an important step, as proper kneading will develop glutens, giving the pastry the strength needed to hold the filling and retain its shape.
Divide the dough into 6 equal pieces between 150 and 160 grams each. Shape the dough into disks, wrap them in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 3 hours and up to 2 days.
Make the filling and assemble the pasties: When ready to bake, position a rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 425 degrees. Line a large, rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.
In a large bowl, mix together the meat, potatoes, rutabaga, onion and thyme until combined; you should have about 5 cups. Season the mixture with salt and pepper and gently toss to combine.
Lightly flour your work surface and, working with one dough piece at a time, remove the dough from the plastic wrap. Lightly flour the dough and the rolling pin and roll out the dough into circles approximately 9 inches in diameter.
In a small bowl, whisk together the egg with the cream, half-and-half, milk or water to form an egg wash.
Add a generous 3/4 cup (about 150 grams) of the filling on top half of each pastry circle, brush the border with the egg wash, then fold the pastry over the top and seal in a half-circle. Use your index finger and thumb to crimp and twist the edge, tucking the ends underneath. (You also can use a fork to crimp the edge.) Transfer the pasty to the prepared baking sheet and repeat with the remaining dough and filling.
Using a pastry brush, brush the pasties with the egg wash.
Bake for 15 to 20 minutes, until the pasties start to brown, then reduce the temperature to 350 degrees and continue to bake for another 30 to 40 minutes or until the pasties are a rich golden brown. Remove from the oven, let cool for about 15 minutes and serve.
VARIATION: You can make a meatless version of the pasty (it’s not officially a Cornish pasty then) by replacing the weight of meat with equal weight of additional potatoes.
NOTES: To make the pastry portable, the dough needs to be sturdy enough to encase the filling without breaking, which makes bread flour ideal for using in the pasty crust. You may substitute with all-purpose flour, but the crust may crack more easily.
We had good results making pastry using lard and butter, shortening and butter, and shortening and vegan butter, so depending on your dietary preferences, use what works best for you.
Per serving (1 pasty)
Calories: 734; Total Fat: 38 g; Saturated Fat: 16 g; Cholesterol: 82 mg; Sodium: 985 mg; Carbohydrates: 73 g; Dietary Fiber: 4 g; Sugar: 3 g; Protein: 24 g
This analysis is an estimate based on available ingredients and this preparation. It should not substitute for a dietitian’s or nutritionist’s advice.
Adapted from Cornish Pasty Association, BBC Good Food, Paul Hollywood and King Arthur Baking.
Tested by Olga Massov; email questions to email@example.com.
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