Aaaaah,
Frederickton – as the old saying goes, it’s not the arsehole of the Earth, but
you can see it from there. And in Frederickton’s case, you most certainly can.
Perched on a hill, it has majestic views south to Kempsey; aka Earth's date. It’s populated by
people who can’t afford to live in Kempsey – or I assume so, as I can’t see any
other reason why you would live there.
The houses
in Frederickton certainly aren’t up to Kempsey’s standard of boxy, run-down neo-Australian
post-war masterpieces, and there seems to be an abundance of sagging aluminium
awnings and car bodies on front yards. Not the sort of place you’d want to
stop; or break down. Except, that is, for Fredo’s Pies.
Fredo’s has
been operating since 1993 – no doubt sustained by the 10,000 trucks that rumble
through town every hour of every day. Everyone knows how much truckies love a pie, and
they’re a pretty picky bunch, too. The mere fact that Fredo's is still around after 20 years is testament to the fact that they're doing something right - and this is reinforced by the semis, cars, and caravans that always seem to be lined either side of the street near the pie shop.
Mulloes and
I rode into town early one Saturday morning. It was freezing, snot-inducing
weather to be astride a motorbike. It was colder than mother-in-law’s breath;
but we were having a ball. Much as a grand chess master is planning 10 moves
ahead; I’m planning 10 meals ahead. I’m the Garry Kasparov of pies, if you
like. So a bit of forward planning the previous evening had us lobbing outside
Fredo’s 15 minutes after the 7am opening time; ravenous and ready for some hot
pie-goodness.
From the
outside, Fredo’s looks pretty good, but given the state of rest of the town
that wasn’t exactly difficult….a bit like Hayley Lewis on the Biggest
Loser…she’s no Miss World, but hey, compared with the competition…..
Perhaps it
was the anticipation, perhaps it was the general hunger, but the smell of the
shop was fantastic – not only could you smell golden baked pastry, but there
was a rich casseroley aroma of slowly stewing meat that hit me from 3 feet
outside the door. I did my best impersonation of Pavlov’s dog.
Once inside,
the view was like a vision from heaven (well, fat-bloke heaven, anyway). I knew
from previous experience that Fredo’s had a big range. One look at their
website can confirm that for you, but there is the disclaimer that not all
varieties are available at once. Well when we walked in, it certainly looked
like they were; three full bain maries presented themselves. And when I say
‘full’, they were stocked to the brim, with plates of sausage rolls and other
goodies balanced between the pies…
Service was
friendly and welcoming, and the lady waited patiently while we ummed and aahed
over our decision. The lady behind the counter also suggested that we nip next
door for a coffee at Café 73 (no affiliation to Fredo’s) due to the frostiness
of the morning - I can highly recommend the coffee there, too: it's top notch.
Fredo’s is
famous (amongst those who know of them) for their crocodile pie. It therefore
chose itself. As there was such an exotic selection (nearly every animal known
to man is encased in pastry at Fredo’s), I felt an obligation to Roobs and
everyone else not to go for yet another curry pie, so I chose a wild boar pie
instead. That’s right, wild boar. Giddy-up. It really was a tough decision
though – Fredo’s claim to have 160 different pies, and on offer when we were
there were things like Mongolian Lamb, buffalo, pork honey and chilli, and
venison.
Mulloes
chose a ‘truckies pie’, which was steak, bacon and onion; and a kangaroo pie. I
really should have selected an emu pie (yes, they have them), so that we could
say we’d eaten the two animals on our national flag for breakfast; but I find
emus to be nasty birds and imagine them to be mean and stringy.
The pies looked really good straight out of the packet – a standard size that taunted the hungry traveller to chance his arm at a third. I almost did. Probably could’ve too, but I heard my darling wife’s singsong voice in my head reminding me politely that I’m not getting any younger. Or thinner. She even called me by my full name like mother used to when I was in trouble, so I thought I’d better not. Regretted that one for the rest of the day. Still do. *sigh*
Anyway, the
pies had been baked in foil, and their size and general structure reminded me a
lot of my ‘home’ bakery, the Wavell Hot Bread shop. The foil had no holes in
it, so the base was cooked through (see photo), but still very pliant. Some
people hate this, but it doesn’t bother me so long as the pastry itself is
cooked. Sometimes bakeries go too far the other way, and the short crust
becomes too solid (I’m talking about you, Gerbino’s) and it feels like you’re
eating a biscuit.
The amount
of filling wasn’t over the top without being stingy. It meant that, despite the
soft nature of the base, it wasn’t going to fall into your lap just as you’re
punching 16th gear in your B-double causing you to run headlong into a
bus-load of pensioners on a Probus outing. It’s a treacherous track, that Pacific Highway, and it's good to know that Fredo's are doing their bit to keep you and I safe.
I attacked
the crocodile pie first, figuring that it would be the more delicate of the
two, and found the flavour to be excellent. I expected the large chunks of croc
to taste like chicken, but it didn’t at all. It was moist and delicate, and was
a bit like fine-grained gravy beef on the tooth, with that gelatinous
connective tissue broken down through hours of slow cooking. It also had some
chunks of celery in there (I can hear you retching from here), but I really
liked it, and it worked well with the white sauce that held it all together.
The gravy
was a bit odd in texture and (much like the wild boar pie) it didn’t look good at
all; but tasted fine and was well seasoned. Temperature was also really good, and from memory they
were a fraction over $5 per pie – maybe $5.50. Either way, I wasn’t quibbling.
This one scores an 8/10 from me. Extra points for originality.
The wild
boar pie was an unusual beast. It was kind of gamey, kind of beefy, kind of dog
foody, and I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about it. The pastry was really good
once again, and the temperature was OK considering it was sitting on a freezing
cold table for 5 minutes while I demolished the croc pie. OK, 3 minutes, but
you get the picture.
Speaking of
pictures, this one illustrates the interior workings of the wild boar pie pretty
well. It doesn’t look hugely appetising, does it? A bit like congealed Pal
perhaps? Fortunately, the taste was a lot better than the appearance, but I
wouldn’t buy another one with so many other interesting pies to choose from. I
don’t think that one is worth more than a 6 – 6.5/10.
So if you have
the pleasure of driving along the mighty Pacific Highway – the undisputed jewel
in our nation’s motorway crown, and the envy of expressways worldwide – and find yourself within cooee of Frederickton,
Fredos Pies is definitely worth the effort.
We tried some unusual pies because on the day we were in the mood for something a bit different from the usual offerings, but next time I would be tempted to go for something a bit more mainstream and see how it stacked up against the competition. I also would have been keen to take a few home, but that just wasn't possible. Maybe we'll just have to plan another ride....is 1000 km round trip too far to go for a pie? Methinks not. Until next time, take care.
Cheers, Pieologist
http://www.fredopies.com.au/
