Australia Day

Well, not exactly Australia Day, more like Chick Pea day.

J had a very hectic weekend of sports (as in watching it perched on a stool in a pub, not playing of course), so I decided Sunday was going to be Chick Pea Pamper Day. Some pimples had decided to throw a huge gathering on my face; I thought I left all that behind when I hit 30, or 18 for that matter, so I made an appointment for a facial at my favourite spa.

The appointment wasn't until 3.30 pm, and I was feeling a little hungry.

Tuck Shop in the East Village is a place I have been wanting to check out for a while, and today was the day to indulge my tastebuds. The good 'ol Aussie meat pie is something I haven't had in over three years.

I synced my iPod with some Powderfinger and headed for the subway to get to Second Avenue.



The shop had the usual Aussie paraphernalia - a HUGE koala painted on the wall outside near the entrance, a surfboard, Peter Jackson and Winfield Blue beer mats hanging on the walls and so on. It was a little grottier than I expected, but hell, I wasn't there for the decor, bring on the pies!!


Brings a tear to the eye, this thing of beauty

When I was a kid I used to love to pierce the top of the pie crust with the ketchup bottle, squirt a massive amount of sauce inside and then gorge. When you bit into it, you would get a lovely mixture of beef mince, gravy and ketchup. In retrospect that was kind of gross, so I just dolloped a respectable amount on my warm, crusty pie.

Behold the masterpiece:


The expression on my face just before I dug in. Corny? Yes!

Verdict: While it was a satisfying, I found the pie had a tad too much pepper which overpowered the taste. The flies that were buzzing around the shop gave it an authentic, Aussie feel, though I'm not sure if this was intentional. Still, I had my pie fix so I was a happy camper. Hopefully I won't wait another three years for another pie!