Wednesday, March 31, 2010

The story of emu pies

On the way back from a road trip to Yallingup in Western Australia a few days ago Conor announced that he was going to be having an emu pie for lunch. He used to have them as a kid and remembered their tasty meat and crumbly pastry very well.

I was not so keen. It's not that I am unadventurous with food (some may diasagree) but surely it's absolutely essential that one must have a McDonalds on a road trip. It's the law. And I wasn't going to break it.

The anticipation for an emu pie built up steadily between the boys along the way and with a tummy happily filled up with a fillet-a-fish we pulled in to the Emu pie shop. Run by an elderly couple all the way through their married lives they kept the tasty emus in a cage by the side of the shack. I was a little disturbed by this especially as one of them started ramming the rickety fence at speed as Conor walked by clutching his emu pie/aka said emu's mother.

Sadly Conor's dreams of eating emu pie as an eleven year old school boy did not match up to the reality of some brown stodge and in a hard pastry case. An ice cream was had to make up for the massive disappointment and then we were on the road again.

Emu Pie Towers


Emu Pie Towers


Brother Emu


Brother Emu


2 pies please, easy on the gravy

2 pies please, easy on the gravy

Sure thang.

Sure thang.


Lovely Pies.

Lovely Pies. Hannah tucks in sensibly to her gluten free sandwich.



Yummy.

Yummy.

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