Cornish pasties as the nights close in

Summer is over for me and I couldn't be sadder. I understand of course, the beauty of the leaves turning green-gold-orange-red, a kaleidoscope of different hues, all of them warm. And I understand the satisfaction of snuggling down into a scarf and jumper as cold draws in. But, for me, there is absolutely no competition with the July/August glow of sunlight on bare skin or feeling the day warm you through fine cotton clothes. Not to mention the food. Squash, mashed potatoes and crumbles are some of my favourites but, frankly, I'd rather eat pea shoots. Looking back over photographs like these from the summer reminds me that this is my happies time of year and it brings me up short to think that I can barely recall the way it feels to dress lightly and wander in the heat. It's something I'll continue to miss until next year comes round. 

(On a side note, do you like my shoes? They were a bargain at a charity shop and I think they're lovely. Also almost freakishly comfortable for something with a heel- I swear my walking in heels tolerance diminishes every summer.)

But I digress. 
Pinings aside, I really do love the colder months, and I do appreciate living in a country where the seasons are so well defined by distinctive weather, bringing new produce with each month. How exciting! And what is more seasonal at the moment than a pasty? A pseudo-Cornish pasty, to be precise. Made with meltingly lovely beef skirt, swede, potato, lashings of black pepper, and the cheeky and utterly nontraditional addition of leeks. What can I say, I had no onion and every good Welsh fridge, even a student fridge, contains a leek or two. A leak, too, depending on the student!

 Almost Cornish Pasties
(adapted by the addition of leek and a few other tweaks from The Great British Book of Baking). It would be hard to emphasise too much how I love this book. It has all the basics of good solid british baking, is easy to follow and everything works. A high accolade indeed, given my problems with every offering of the Hummingbird Bakery book!
Makes 6

Pastry:

100g butter

100g lard 

*Chill both of these in the FREEZER for at least half an hour before starting*

450g strong bread flour

a pinch of salt. 

200ml icy cold water. 

1. Grate the freezer fats into the sifted flour and salt. 

2. Stir with a blunt knife to combine. Don't you dare touch it with your hot little paws. 

3. All right, go on then. Add enough of the water to make a shaggy, loose dough and knead a bit with your hands. It shouldn't be sticky, so if it is, kick yourself for being a doofus and adding too much water, then put a bit more flour in to balance it out.

4. Pop the dough in the fridge for at least half an hour, but up to 24hrs is fine. 

Filling

200g potato, sliced into small pieces (width of a £1 coin)

200g beef skirt 

*pah! I used 400g for man friendly, meaty pasties. By all means use the wuss version specified, But it must be beef skirt*

Half a normal sized supermarket leek

100g swede, sliced thinner than the potato

Egg (to glaze)

Pepper

1. It's pretty simple, kids. Grab your dough, split it into 6 pieces. Also, preheat oven to 220C
2. Plop a piece down, roll into a circle. Cut round a 20cm plate if you must be neat. 
3. Put lots fo filling on one half of the pasty. Make sure meat goes all the way out to the edges. 
4. Stretch the other half over the filling, and damp the two edges to seal. 
*If you're not having to strech, you pasty isn't stuffed enough and will look empty after the meat shrinks during cooking*
5. Crimp the edges in a rope pattern. If you think you're getting any better instructions than that, you haven't looked too closely at my effort up there...
6. Cook 15 mins at 220C, then turn down to 180C and keep on truckin' for another 15 mins. Then finally knock the oven off, but keep cooking the pasties for another 15 mins. 
7. Take out the oven. Then leave them alone. Do not touch for at least 10 mins. It will kill you, but I promise, you'll be a better person afterwards. 

Positively unctuous, with soft meat and softer veg, with enough lip licking grease (in a good way) from the meat and flaky pastry to give the eating equivalent of a big hug, this is a keeper for the cold months ahead. I'm already planning butternut and cumin, goats cheese and beetroot and plain old cheese and onion pasties to keep me from having to hibernate all winter.
Tom, on the other hand, would rather I just kept these coming. 

Scrumptious.