The demise of Darbys Pies this week brings mixed emotions.
Subscribe now for unlimited access.
$0/
(min cost $0)
or signup to continue reading
All great eras come to an end, and in the aftermath you ponder not so much why, but rather pie?
Darbys has been a Hunter icon over the decades. Most famous perhaps for its $1 pies that inevitably left you with, if not an appreciation of value, a bit of reflux.
The business model flourished in the tradition of other great Hunter culinary outlets, like Henny Penny.
But perhaps it over-reached. A victim of changing tastes, maybe. Or more exacting.
To be fair, theres more to a pie than any thought its good for you.
The appeal pushes from the logical to the poetic, possibly to take your mind off what you might be eating.
The pie has always been a bit of a mystery bag, steeped in reality. How many of us have wondered just what might be inside, and then decided to forego that thought as images of a grinder and whatever was left over on the butchers floor sprang to mind?
Bespoke, but not spoken about, too much.
Because a pie is more than just a pie.
It can be a memory, a smell, crumbs on the jumper, a stream of hot lava running over your fingers as your mouth attempts to tame the molten river in the manner of an ant eater. Often unsuccessfully.
Modern attempts to verify the contents have pushed it past a price point many are unwilling to go.
Thus were left with the ideals of what makes a great pie.
Flaky pastry that peels in layers? A lid that lifts without too much prizing? Filling thats not too overtly ligament based?
I once had demonstrated to me the amount of fat in one pie equivalent to the mass of rubber string you find inside a squash ball apparently.
Even that doesnt unravel just how good a good pie tastes in the eating.
With sauce, if thats your hang-up.
Because theres a time and a place for everything. And for pies that might be after a surf. At the football. During a servo break on a long distance road trip. Actually, steer clear of those pies theyre bad news.
We all have regrets, but if that pies washed down with a carton of chocolate milk, you might well delay those too. For a while. But you knew they were coming. And yet you still went there, enthusiastically. Like love.
Alas, it seems theres no longer a time and place for Darbys pies, though the affection remains.
Its hard to go out on your own terms.
Just ask sacked ABC boss Michelle Gurthrie, although an instant dismissal clause was apparently in her contract.
Not sure about Justin Milnes though.
Even the great Billy Slater may not get the privilege just yet, although the judiciary kindly saw fit this week to move him 80 minutes closer to a grand exit.
And so, as the sun sets on Darbys we will remember them, fondly, and perhaps burp a little as we reach for a serviette.
If not to dry a tear, then to wipe away the grease.
