The Sandpoint Eater: Generational fare

By Marcia Pilgeram
Reader Columnist

Call them what you may — miners’ pasty, Cornish pasty, Butte pasty or meat hand pie — no other food evokes stronger food memories for me.  

I grew up on them. Looking back, I can’t believe how fortunate I was to have Myrtle and Myrtle (yes, two same-named ladies in my school’s cafeteria). Our “lunchroom ladies” in East Helena, Mont., made these labor-intensive, savory pastry pies for many a schoolkid. I’m now ashamed to admit that I doused mine with catsup (sorry ladies).

You could pretty much count on eating pasties every day except Friday in our Catholic-dominated community. They were always similar but different. Some of the ladies used hamburger, but other cuts of cheap meat were used, too (they are so much work and highly coveted by my clan, so when I go to this much trouble, I now use only sirloin cuts).

Everyone prided themselves on their favorite (often secret) pie crust recipe. Some ladies swore by lard, but others used butter or Crisco, or a combination of fats. You were worth your weight in potatoes if you could turn out a flaky pastry for your pasties. I remember being mesmerized by these neighborhood cooks with a floured and furrowed brow, leaning into their work, carefully crimping the edges of each pie with a signature twist.

In Butte, Mont., even esteemed U.S. Sen. Mike Mansfield loved miners’ pasties, and his wife Maureen was well known for her homemade version (her recipe is featured in the Butte Heritage Cookbook).

The Irish miner immigrants brought the hand pie recipe to Butte. Off to the mine, they were packed in a sturdy handled pail and practically standard fare for every laborer. I’ve learned that friends from Michigan and Arizona who grew up near copper mines were also raised on pasties, and they’re still a favorite in those regions, too (on my most recent trip to Arizona, I was surprised to see a pasty shop in Tempe).

There were many years when I would have given anything to whip up a batch of Butte pasties, but my pie crust left much to be desired. I marveled at how my mother could deftly turn out the loveliest and flakiest pastry with seemingly no effort (and no recipe). I give her due credit for her patience and technique as I learned my way through many failed attempts, often including tears and trash.

When I finally felt confident enough, I’d spend an entire day preparing them for our hired cowboys (who’d eat anything after a long day’s work) and finally for friends or bankers who frequented the ranch. The gravy was equally important, and I finally mastered that, too.

Thanks to many years of watching skilled Butte friends, I became adept at cocktail pasties, a Montana mainstay for weddings, funerals and baptisms. For my daughter Ryanne’s wedding, I made more than 200 of these miniature versions.

I’m proud to say that, these days, I can turn out a pretty tasty pasty. I have a swarm of vegetarians in my growing clan, so I have also become proficient at making a tasty, meat-free version of them as well.

Like many, when the first COVID-19 lockdown hit, I marathon-watched an entire series on Netflix. I’m embarrassed to admit the series I chose was Tiger King. Afterward, I felt so ashamed of the time I wasted that I remained (mostly) productive for the next long year of lockdown. The day after binging on the last slimy episode featuring Joe Exotic, I felt a real need to purge. I began prepping fillings for pasties, which turned into another marathon, which was more satisfying.

Speaking of pasty marathons, Ryanne et al. are coming for the weekend. We are all set for a day of pasty-making in early anticipation of St. Patrick’s Day. I’m in charge of the filling and passed the pastry torch onto Ryanne. She can’t believe it (I learned she even called a Butte friend to brag). Ryanne is an excellent baker, and when she was only 12, her apple pie garnered a blue ribbon at the Missoula, Mont. county fair, so it is fair to say I leave the pastry-making in capable hands…

Her 9-year-old daughter Fern (my mother’s namesake) wants to learn pie making now, so it will be an eventful time in my kitchen. I’ve assured Ryanne I’ll (try to) look the other way when they whip up the dough in my food processor.  

There are many narratives about the origins of the pasty. Some legends say Catholic priests in Ireland first created this staple. It was hearty and offered needed sustenance as they walked hundreds of miles, preaching good works and the word of God (I rather like this version). 

I’m just happy that my family will carry on the tradition of pasty making, a food that deeply connects me to my Montana roots, my Catholic youth and my Irish heritage. I hope you will gather up some family and try the recipe.

Irish pasty recipe

Some people swear by the rutabagas, I only use rutabagas when making vegetarian pasties.

I chop/dice all the ingredients into approx ½-inch piece. The meat cuts best when partially frozen. 

Yield: 8-10 savory pasties.

Ingredients:

Filling: 

• 2 pounds boneless sirloin steak diced
• 2 cups diced rutabagas (to replace meat for vegetarian pasties)
• 1 cup peeled and diced carrots 
• 4 medium-sized potatoes, peeled and diced
• 2 cups finely chopped onion
• ¼ cup butter
• Plenty of salt and pepper, to taste 
• 2 tbs butter 

Pie dough:

• 3 cups flour (pastry)
• 1 teaspoon salt
• ½ cup cold, firm shortening (or lard)
• ½ cup cold, firm butter
• ½ cup cold water (or less)

Egg wash:

• 1 room temperature egg
• 2 tbs room temperature water

Directions:

Preheat oven to 400° Fahrenheit.

For the filling, scrub and peel the potatoes, carrots and rutabagas. Keep in cold, salted water until ready to use (after you make the dough). Drain well, add the onion, and salt and pepper. Keep the meat separate until ready to add (so it doesn’t discolor the potatoes).

For the dough, sift flour and salt together; cut in cold shortening and butter until pea size, then add just enough water to form a shaggy ball (too much water will make the dough tough). Roll on a floured board or pasty cloth. Cut into 5-inch circles. Place ½ cup filling onto half of circle, dot with butter. Dab each circle’s edge with a wet finger, fold in half. Seal and crimp the edge. Place on parchment paper-lined cookie sheet. 

Whisk egg and water, brush each pasty, cut a slit to vent. 

Bake at 400° for about 45 minutes, reduce heat to 350° and cook another 15 minutes. If the crust is getting too brown, cover loosely with foil. Remove from heat and rest about 5 minutes before serving. Serve with your favorite brown gravy.  

Cover and refrigerate leftovers.