A finger in every pie…
Alice, the under kitchen maid to Edie (Edith if you please) are both elbow deep in flour,
water, spices, suet, sweetmeats, salt and pepper, they form and forge the doughy block,
transforming with more water, alchemy happening before their eyes…
Edie, with her firm yet gentle hands guides Alice’s fledgling fingers, they are artists now,
creating something from the clay like mass, much as the factory workers do with
their medium, the true China clay for the soon to be glittering tableware, the kitchen team strive to make their own edible magic, today it’s a Lenten Pie for a special dinner upstairs,
it has to be just so or there will be hell to pay…
The freshly baked pie sits upon a beautifully glazed serving dish, cooked, cooled and ready to be carved by the master of the house, this pie which took so long to make has the lifespan of a mayfly but the plate will continue to receive many more over its lifetime, occasionally nicked and scarred by the sharp knives but it will be lovingly washed and dried, polished and set aside, to await the next sacrificial offering to the landed gentry…
Alice, back in the hot kitchen, soft, red hands deep in scalding water and suds, gently washes off the crumbs and gravy from plates and cutlery, cups and glasses, the serving dish is in safe hands but Alice wishes she could one day, eat a whole slice of Edie’s wonderful Lenten Pie, not just endlessly live hand to mouth on the leftovers…
By Martin Driscoll
A director of The Worcestershire Literary Festival & Fringe CIC – Litfest
A published short story writer, poet and designer