CHARCHY'S RUSTIC RUMP PIE

A hearty, meaty mystery wrapped in flaky layers of delicious denial.

Ingredients:

• 3 majestic sheets of puff pastry (the flaky gold of the culinary world)

• About 800g rump steak, diced into heroic little cubes

• 1 cup frozen veggies (surprise yourself — is that corn? a pea? who knows!)

• 1 large onion, the kind that makes you weep with joy and/or sulfur

• ⅓ bottle of Worcestershire sauce (that’s like 67.4 splashes)

• ½ cup water (give or take a panic splash)

• Plain flour (for thickening AND dramatic effect)

• Optional chaos: peppercorns, mushrooms, curry powder, or anything else hiding in your spice cupboard

• A dash of love (or mild resentment — both work)

Method to the Madness:

1. Cry a little:

Chop that onion like your enemies are watching. Toss it in a frypan with some oil, and cook until golden, translucent, and smelling like grandma’s kitchen and regret.

2. Rump it up:

Add those rump steak cubes like you’re building a stew for a lumberjack. Let them sizzle and brown. Hear them whisper, “soon, we shall be pie.”

3. Veggie surprise:

Chuck in the frozen veggies. Don’t bother thawing — life’s too short and so is your attention span.

4. Sauce it with reckless abandon:

Pour in about a third of that Worcestershire bottle. Trust your instincts. If you end up with a puddle, just call it “saucier than intended.”

5. Add bonus flavours:

Throw in mushrooms, peppercorns, curry powder, a dash of paprika, or anything else that isn’t super expired. Be bold. Be brave. Be slightly unhinged.

6. Hydrate the chaos:

Add half a cup of water and stir like you’re in a cooking competition but no one’s watching. Let it simmer. Longer = tender. Shorter = chewier workout meal.

7. Thicken that monster:

Sprinkle in flour like a fairy with questionable judgment. Stir as you go until the mixture becomes thick, gooey, and unapologetically pie-ish. This is now officially Pie Guts™.

Assembly: A Crusty Affair

1. Bottoms up:

Place one puff pastry sheet on the bottom of a pie dish like a gentle puff pastry blanket. No wrinkles. You’re better than that.

2. Wall building (Trump would be proud):

Cut the second pastry sheet into four glorious strips and press them around the sides. Now it’s got structural integrity. And attitude.

3. Guts go in:

Spoon your beautiful beefy mess into the dish. This is the heart of the operation. The soul of the pie. The reason for the season.

4. Put a lid on it:

Slap that third sheet on top. Pinch the edges like you’re tucking in a pastry baby for a nap in a 200°C sauna.

Bake and Wait (aka: Pie Meditation)

• Into the oven it goes — 200°C

• Bake for about 25 minutes or until the top is golden, puffed, and worthy of Instagram.

• Remove. Let it cool just enough not to incinerate your tongue.

Serving Suggestions:

• With mash? Sure.

• Tomato Sauce? Go nuts.

• Cold from the fridge at 2 a.m.? Charchy would be proud.

Warning:

This pie may cause sudden fits of joy, groaning satisfaction, and unsolicited compliments. Also, possible arguments over who gets the last piece.

Bon appétit, you glorious kitchen adventurer. 🍽️🥧