YUM !!

"I hear noise in the kitchen.  What you guys doin'?"

"We're making Pasties, Ginger!"  That's "Past-Tees."  Slap yourself in the forehead if you thought anything else.  Repeatedly.

Pasties are my "family dish."  Yoopers of Swedish descent, the family adopted a variant of the Cornish pasty as their own.  Why?  Like the hardworking expatriates of Cornwall, they were miners.  And not terribly surprisingly, in Iron River, Upper Michigan, they were iron miners.

The women would arise very early to begin the process.  After their labors and an hour in the wood-fueled oven, the meat pies would be wrapped in newspaper and handed off to the men to carry in their shirts as they headed for the mines.  The thermal mass of the pasty in the layered insulating package would not only stay warm for hours, the heat that did escape would warm the the miner as he descended into the depths until his labors sent the heat in the opposite direction.

Even after the mines were exhausted, and prosperity left, pasties remained the preferred dish.

Gotta roll out the dough.
We've used varying dough recipes over the years.
Next time, we're using lard, like my father's mother always did.
I think the butter and margarine lobby purposely ruined the reputation of lard.

In a pinch, if you find yourself without a rolling pin, a beverage bottle will do nicely.  It's a good idea to take the label off and wash it first.  Yes, experience speaks.

Lots of meat and veggies to be cut, also.
The wax paper is to make transferring the dough to the aluminum foil
or directly to the baking pan a little easier.
Now that I look at it, since we are using foil,
maybe we could have rolled the dough out on it.

Mary looked at the draft and let me know that rolling dough on foil is a flight of fancy.  It does not have the tensile strength of wax paper.  I must give that material more respect.

The ingredients, ready to go.
That's cubed flank steak, which was used back in the old days because it was cheap.
Not anymore.

Here's what you do to make a Fredlund Pasty or twelve.  It's a significant amount of work, so no point in making one or two.  They freeze well after cooking, and on the basis of the principles of flavor diffusion, they taste even better reheated.

- Cut up the meat and veggies.  I do the onions.
- Make the pie crusts.  Thank you, Mary.
- Roll them out.  That's my job.  (If you want to cheat and cut down on the labor, just buy pre-fab crusts.)
- Position the pie crusts all around the kitchen so assembly can commence.  If you don't have enough counter space, use the kitchen chairs.  Making sure the crusts have foil under them is my preference.  Easier to move, later.
- Start with the meat.  About a handful.  If it's a lean year, less.  If those "Too big to fail" have taken all your money, or you are a vegetarian, skip the meat.  They'll still be great.
- Pile on a layer of potatoes.
- Top that with a layer of rutabaga.  This is essential.  It's not a pasty without rutabaga.  The unique flavor comes from these "Swedish turnips."
- Now carrots and onions and butter and salt and pepper.
- Fold the dough over into a half-pie and crimp the edges.  Cut away the extra dough.  Maybe you'll have enough to make an extra pasty.  If not, be creative.
- Pop them in the oven preheated to 350 degrees F and wait an hour.  If you're not going to eat them right away, maybe 40 minutes, so that when you reheat them, there will be a little bit of cooking going on.

If you are at all like me, you're going to mess this assembly up on at least one of the pasties.  That's part of the adventure!  Every one can be unique.  If you know which one you messed up on (teardown and reassembly is a pain), mark it and tell everyone you are "experimenting" with the recipe.

Mary doing assembly.

She works fast!

In the oven, not quite done.

A word on the foil.  You don't need it.  You can cook them on the cookie sheet and deal with it, but the foil makes it really easy to wrap them right up and put them in the fridge or freezer, depending on your needs.

Oh, Yeah!

Another satisfied customer!!!

Well before the turn of the millennium, my Grandfather, Ernie, saw me put ketchup on a pasty.  

"What are you doing that for?" he asked.

"Well, it's a little bit dry.  I'm just making it a little better."

"No you're not.  You're ruining a perfectly good pasty."  

I suppose that when you're carrying a pasty, you really don't want a probable ketchup mess inside your shirt all day, so you develop a taste for the pasty "as is."  However, for both of us, given the choice of with or without condiments vs. no pasty, the choice has always been obvious.

One more thing.  Don't ever worry about cutting up too much stuff for the pasties.  Anything left over goes into the fridge for the next morning.  After a cup of coffee, heat up a little oil or butter (or lard, of course), and throw everything into the frying pan.   Cook 'til browned and softened.

Puts regular home fries to shame.

Oh, Yeah, Again !!!