Clare Teal: Why I can't stop thinking about pies

I don’t care what the filling is - providing eels aren’t involved. Neither am I fussy about the pastry. I think my love of pies started at university with a tinned Frey Bentos. Virtually impossible to cook thoroughly, I always ended up with a heap of soggy goo lurking beneath the puff pastry.

Two things I have learned about this much loved British brand in the last five minutes, firstly Frey Bentos is in Uruguay – I thought it was Scottish! Secondly, to ensure a consistent bake, some canny people remove the top of the pie and cook it separately before reassembling on the plate.

We have recently done a few gigs in the Suffolk area – Earsham and Beccles, not only were they very enjoyable concerts but both served the most incredible chicken pies. Emily bakes the pies for Earsham Hall, they are amazing, individually baked using a secret recipe handed down from her grandmother, the pastry is spot on - no soggy bottoms on her watch.

Last Saturday, Muddy and I headed to the Old Granary near Beccles with Jason Rebello to perform an intimate concert for a delightful bunch of people.

The venue is run by Steinway specialist Andrew Giller, a chap who can listen to a recording and nine times out of ten tell you what model piano is being played – frankly what he doesn’t know about pianos isn’t worth knowing.

It’s a family run thing, wife Jill does the cooking, she was trying out a new recipe when we were there - chicken and leek pie with a crunchy filo pastry top. Under interrogation Jill hinted at the other magical ingredients, bacon lardons, mustard and I think a little crème fraîche and possibly a heap of butter.

I remember circa 2011 an amazing steak and kidney pie, with the most delicious short crust pastry served with your very own jug of gravy at the Bar T‘at as in on Ilkla Moor Baht ‘at – in Ilkley, we were gutted to learn on a return visit that the chef had moved on, should anyone know of his whereabouts please let us know.

If you can hear a rumbling in the background it’s my stomach. I’m nibbling a carrot, on day three of an irksome but grudgingly necessary diet, which is probably why I can’t stop thinking about pies.