Guest Review - The Upper Crust, 1003 Pittwater Rd Collaroy NSW

I used to live just down the road from this pie shop on Sydney's northern beaches; back in the days of my glorious but impoverished youth - when I had hair and a 6-pack (well, hair anyway). I'd bound out of bed on a Sunday morning after a big night on the tiles at The Oaks or The Greengate (the liver still being relatively fresh in those days), and wander down the road to the best pie shop (at the time) in Australia...just to give myself a bit of a 'base' for the Sunday afternoon session at The Newport Arms.

You had to be early - get there at 12.30 and the queue would be down the street. And they had interesting pies, too. Things like tuna and avocado (sounds awful, tasted great), beef & burgundy, and Thai green chicken featured on their innovative menu - at a time when nobody but a cow cocky could tell a Black Angus from a Murray Grey. Now, a ten year old will ask you what kind of sausage you're serving them at a BBQ, and you'd better bloody well get the answer right - 'Woolies thin BBQ snags, son' will earn you a look of horror / derision / pity; whereas 'they're 300-day grain fed wagyu Black Angus Brahman cross from the James St Market' will get you at least slight acknowledgement that you've passed the test - for now (but dessert had better be from Cold Rock at least). 

But I've got nothing against children - in the words of Whitney Houston: 'hey, who the f*ck snorted the last of my Vicodin?' Anyway, speaking of children, I have a guest review this week from my old friend Crashball - a self-bestowed nickname which simultaneously describes his signature move on the rugby pitch; and his skills with the laaaaaadies. 

Being from NSW, Crashball has had it tough this week, and has given himself RSI venting his spleen online over Greg Inglis' completely 100% legit, match-and-possibly-series-winning try...so I'll go easy on him.  Over to you, pal:

 

Fellow pie-lovers, it’s with both excitement and disappointment that I find myself guest reviewer for this edition of the Pieologist’s blog.  You see, for some time now I’ve been telling the Pieologist that next time he comes to Sydney, he should jump on a ferry to Manly, where I would pick him up, drive a short ways up Sydney’s glorious northern beaches to Collaroy and review the offerings from The Upper Crust Pie shop.  So when Poopa-Pat invited us to his 40th, it seemed the stars had aligned.

The morning after Poopa’s, I woke to a beautiful sunny Sunday, a stinking headache and my mouth watering like Pavlov’s dog’s in anticipation.  With a skip in my step and a rumbling in my stomach, I picked up my phone and noticed I had a message.  I can’t remember the exact words, but it said something about Ken’s of Kensington and sitting down to pee, the bottom line; Pie-hole wasn’t coming.

At this point, I want to confirm that the ‘disappointment’ mentioned in the opening line had nothing to do with my mate not making the effort to catch up, no fellow pie lovers, the disappointment refers to the Pieologist’s lack of commitment to the pie-cause and us, his pie eating blog followers.

Not to be discouraged, I grabbed the bride, a 12 year old bottle of French Pinot (I didn’t really feel like the wine, it was only 8am, but I knew the not-so-Pieologist would be envious) and headed up Pittwater Road.  20 minutes later, I was laying a picnic blanket on the grass next to the beach with a couple topless birds sunbathing square in view.

Before I move onto the business bit, I have to confess that my wife doesn’t normally like pies, I hear some of you say “that’s un-Australian”, but there’s good reason for it….she’s not Australian, she’s from Svabia, a funny little country wedged between Norway and Denmark, where they speak Hoolly-Goolly, and don’t eat pies…well not pasty ones anyway, they do have ‘Taco Pies’ and they’re genius, but that’s for another blog.  Despite not really liking pies and an impressive hangover, the misses did what Pie-hole should have, and played along.  She ordered a minced meat pie, and I, a steak & mushroom and for something different, a Mexican pie. 

While I opened the cork, the misses opened the batting; as you can see from the photo, it was beautifully golden, slightly larger than average size and at $6-50 average value, but apparently that’s where the ‘average’ description ends.  At this point I should be showing you a picture of the half eaten pie, I’d even love to be confirming her review of a delicious pie, flaky top pastry, firm bottom pastry, bursting with deliciously moist, but not wet, meaty goodness and an impressive 8/10 score, but she scoffed it and I didn’t get a chance to take a pic or steal a bite, we’ll also have to assume that the lack of spillage on her plate confirms that it passed the driving test. Considering she doesn’t like pies, but said she’d come back, it must have been good.

Onto my breakfast; they were both beautifully golden, all pies were the same size and bursting with filling, flaky top pastry and firm but not dry bottom, but at $7-50 my ‘gourmet’ selections are now pushing the price a little, but this is Sydney and like Pie-hole at Ken’s the night before, we expect to get reamed.  

First cab off the rank was the steak and mushroom, my favourite type of pie, so it had to come in the goods.  As you can see from the photo, they didn’t scrimp on the mushies, it passed the driving test with flying colours and was easily the best steak and mushroom pie I’ve eaten; 9/10, a ‘must try’ for steak and mushroom lovers.

Next comes the Mexican, I’d never eaten a Mexican pie before and so I had no expectations, but I have to say; it was bloody good, nicely spiced, possibly too hot for some. Filled with red beans, minced meat, cheese and the all-important Mexican flavours; delicious.  I’d probably try some of the other pies in the shop before going back, but I’d definitely go back. The only flaw was the driving test, the pastry held together, but oil would most likely have run down my best Ron Bennett tie if eaten whist driving, so its marked down to 7.5/10.

Lastly, the bottle of wine, a 2000 Domaine du blah blah blah; it was superb, but let’s face it, I was only drinking it to make the pieologist jealous.

Until next time and perhaps the taco pie.

Crashball