An Unfortunate Incident…

…or The Phantom, The Food Waggon and The Very Messy Pie…

I have lost count of the number of you lovely people who have been telling me that Goddards Pies have managed to survive, despite being bought out of their lovely old shop by The Gourmet Burger people. I can understand their doing it and though selling pies out of a van could be seen as a step down, they are at least still going.

I was determined to try them out again before writing about it, and it’s taken me all this time (a good few months) to get round to it. Time seems to be very short just now.

So. There we were, hungry, and in the tiny food-courty bit sandwiched by the bank and the railway line in Greenwich Church Street. A perfect opportunity to test Goddards at last.

They still do much the same range as before – all the old favourites (including rhubarb crumble, hooray.) And they’re still as jolly and friendly as ever. We bought a selection, found ourselves a bench at the back (interestingly, although it was a Saturday, lunchtime, heaving outside and not tipping with rain there was loads of space) and dug in.

And yes, the stuff’s pretty much the same as ever. With one exception. It’s all ridiculously hot. I guess they have to keep it piping and you do have to eat it with your fingers these days instead of with a knife and fork, but this is something else.

It was all going pretty well until I bit into the cheese and onion pie. Now – I know I didn’t have too many of them back in the days of the shop, but was it really just a sort of searing-hot goo in the olden times? This was like a cheesy version of instant mash potato when it’s been made up with too much water.

I’ll give you tasty. The actual flavour wasn’t bad at at all. But it started to seep, then rain scorching spud all over me. I’d taken a paper napkin, so I was able to mop up as I went along, but once I’d got past the pastry, it all collapsed, covering me with red- hot (and very wet) potato.

Apart from the incredible pain, it was the shame that got me. A Phantom with red-hot potato smarmed all over their mush is not a pretty sight. Trouble was, by this time my napkin was already covered with cheesy pie innards, so the more I dabbed at the goo dribbling down my chin, the more I covered the rest of my face. It went on my nose, my cheeks, my lips – everywhere. My companions found it extremely amusing until they realised that my face was burning underneath. They got me more paper tissues and I cleaned up. It took about half an hour for the red marks to die down.

So. Here’s my advice. By all means go to Goddards. And enjoy the lovely meaty/fruity/cheesy pies. Enjoy the friendly banter. But take lots of paper napkins and wear old clothes. Carrying some soothing ointment as a precaution may not go amiss.

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