It Was the Best of Pies, It Was the Worst of Pies - Anticipation as Appetiser

Our healthy eating programme has been very successful, to the extent that I've overshot my target and am sneaking the occasional treat to rebalance things.

Like all right thinking people I love pies. I had not eaten one in over two months when I bought a Holland's steak pie the other day. It looked incongruous in a trolley of lean meat and fresh fruit and veg, the contrast no doubt adding to its allure. Once heated its aromas wafted through the kitchen, demanding instant consumption. Thoughts of finding the pie of my dreams flooded my little brain.

The rarity value gave me a bit of a thrill, as the only pie indulgence for months it had to be welcome. But it served as a reminder of just how poor so much 'shop-bought' food is. Meat in small pieces, pastry floppy, gravy all mouth and no trousers. It was then the best of pies (in recent times) and the worst of pies (likewise, and because it was a major let-down). 

Culinary anticipation is not always rewarded with the supreme pleasure hoped for. I went on a tour of Michelin-starred restaurants in Southwest France last year (life is hell etc), the food in one was superb, in two pretty good, and the others disappointing (in one the food was actually nasty except for the cheese that was bought in). That may have been because of the power of that star. Time and again I have eaten venison with images of Friar Tuck and medieval feasts in mind, only to find it has been dry, chewy and lacking in flavour (whether I or a chef has cooked it). Years ago I was given Durian in Malaysia, Durian being the fruit that smells, to put not too fine a point on it, like crap. Promised a marvellous experience if I could get past that I found the actual taste was a bit like mucal mango, but not as good as that sounds. 

However often I'm disappointed I hope that I still have such anticipatory experiences to come. It's like Christmas morning as a kid, the moment before the presents are opened is generally better than the presents turn out to be, but if you think about it that still means the morning is hugely pleasurable. I will eat steak tartare one day (if courage doesn't fail me yet again). Maybe fugo too, though I have heard the taste is as exciting as whiting. And maybe I will meet two personal needs and find a venison pie that would have made Tuck beam.