#experimental pie

      Not too sure about this one. It tasted surprisingly similar to the macaroni pies that are available in shops, possibly because I decided to try using short crust pastry, but unfortunately I think the pastry was also the thing that let the dish down. Pasta and pastry is a risky combination at the best of times and the buttery richness of the short crust made the whole pie a little too stodgy; both I and my friend Helen (who also helped me roll out the pastry and put everything together) ended up with stomach aches. I think it was because of the pastry anyway.

 Nevertheless, the pasta mix itself was good and well worth making; the rich cheese sauce enhances the natural sweetness of the beetroots whilst also serving to tone down the earthy flavour which some find objectionable. Admittedly though, its inclusion in this particular recipe is mainly due to the vibrant colour that it imbues.

2 medium-sized beetroots

2 tablespoons of butter

2 tablespoons of plain flour

About a pint of milk (you won’t need all of it)

A small mound of crumbled goat’s cheese

250g pasta (whichever kind you like; something similar in shape to macaroni, penne for example, makes portioning it up easier)

A big handful of breadcrumbs

A few pinches of dried herbs

A pinch of crushed chilli (optional)

For the pastry:

I can’t claim to have come up with my own recipe unfortunately; I used one from the food section of the BBC’s website. The short crust version may be to your liking, but I reckon puff would work better.

Pre-heat your oven at 200°C.

 On a floured surface, roll your pastry into a sheet a few millimetres thick. Use oil or melted butter to grease an oven-proof dish, ideally one no more than an inch or so deep. Drape the pastry over the top of the dish, gently press it down and trim off any excess that hangs over the edge. Cover with a sheet of baking parchment which should you weight down with something; traditionally one would use baking beans but I found that a handful of pennies work just as well. Place the covered pastry in the oven and blind bake for around twenty minutes; it should be starting to become golden but by no means fully cooked. (I’m told that puff pastry doesn’t need to blind bake for as long as short crust.)

 Peel and halve the beetroots, place them in a pan with a few pinches of salt and cover with cold water. Bring the water to the boil, then remove the beetroots and leave to one side. Cook the pasta in the purple water, draining when it is a few minutes short of done; it should still be a little on the chewy side. Toss with a little oil to stop it from sticking then put to one side also. If you’re short on time and not averse to multi-tasking you can cook the beetroots and pasta whilst you prepare the cheese sauce as opposed to beforehand.

 Make the cheese sauce in the same way as described in the spinach and feta recipe (see below). When it’s ready take the pan off the heat, stir in the cheese, grate in the beetroot and season with a little salt and pepper. Pour in the pasta, mix well then pour the whole lot into the pre-baked pastry case. Place in the oven and bake for about twenty minutes until the sauce is bubbling around the edges.

      I think this worked rather well. It’s worth using orzo if you can track any down; its rice-like texture makes you forget that you’re eating pasta, which is good because I think it’s the pasta/pastry combination that many find to be the objectionable aspect of macaroni pies, though I daresay there may be other factors. I’d also forgotten how soft and chewy and somewhat subtle filo pastry can be once it’s cooled down. For budgetary reasons I tend to buy supermarket brand ‘salad cheese’ as opposed to actual feta, but for this experiment I spent the extra 50ish pence and indulged in the latter, mainly because the former is usually a little rubbery and so doesn’t melt nearly as well.

  Apologies for not providing a more comprehensive guide to handling filo but I’ve not quite got the hang of it yet; I found myself layering up numerous torn fragments of pastry, such was the difficulty I experienced in attempting to peel whole sheets off of the roll provided. Never mind though; most packets come with a frighteningly detailed set of instructions printed on the side so you can’t go far wrong.

 Incidentally, I was unable to find filo pastry or orzo pasta in my local Sainsbury’s, which is strange as I would have thought that those were exactly the sort of items that Sainsbury’s would make a point of stocking. An independent Indian supermarket down the road (http://www.allinlondon.co.uk/directory/1168/42747.php) put them to shame by having both.

½ pint of milk

A small onion (or half a big one)

A few cloves and peppercorns

A tablespoon of plain flour

A tablespoon of butter

200g feta

A handful of grated parmesan (optional)

About 200g orzo pasta (or another type of very small pasta)

Several handfuls of spinach

Zest of 1 lemon and a pinch of grated nutmeg

About 10 sheets of filo pastry

A substantial amount of melted butter

  Pre-heat your oven at 200°C.

 Peel the onion, stud it with the cloves and place in a small pan with the milk and peppercorns. Heat gently for five to ten minutes, making sure that the milk doesn’t start to boil (it’ll taste a bit manky if does). Take off the heat, remove and discard the onion, cloves and peppercorns and put to one side.

 Cook the orzo in salted boiling water for about five minutes so that it’s just short of tender and retains a slight bite. While the pasta’s cooking, sit a sieve on top of the pan and steam the spinach in it. Once the spinach has wilted remove it to a bowl and toss it with the lemon zest, nutmeg and a little pepper then leave to sit in the fridge. Drain the pasta, toss it with a little olive oil and put it to one side in a covered pan or bowl.

 Put a small saucepan on a medium heat and add the butter then the flour once the butter has melted. Mix these two together to make a roux then add the milk a little at a time, stirring constantly to prevent lumps from forming. When all the milk has been incorporated and the sauce is silky and a little runny, remove the pan from heat and crumble in the feta, along with the parmesan if you’re using it, stirring vigorously so as to produce a thick sauce. Retrieve the spinach from the fridge, give it a little squeeze to remove the excess water, and add to the cheese sauce. Tip the orzo into the sauce and mix everything together.

 Get yourself an ovenproof dish at least a couple of inches deep and brush the inside with a little melted butter. Drape a sheet of filo over the dish and gently press it in, so that the pastry lines the dish and overlaps it by an inch or so all the way around. Brush more melted butter onto this sheet then place another over the top, repeating this process until you have layered up about five sheets.

 Pour the pasta and cheese sauce into the dish, spreading it out into an even layer. Gather up the overlapping edges of the pastry and fold them inwards so that they embrace the sauce. Lay another five sheets of pastry over the top, remembering to brush each one with melted butter, trim off the overlap and tuck the edges into the dish. Bake for twenty minutes to half an hour, or until the top is golden brown and crispy.

                           Since reminiscing about the joys of home-made deep-fried pizza a few weeks ago (see below) I’ve been thinking: can certain foodstuffs typically thought of as gross and greasy and generally not fit for consumption outside of a chip shop at midnight be turned into dishes potentially suitable for any time of day (or at least dinner time)? It seems an experiment is an order.