“We used to play rugby together.”
“My cousin worked with his sister.”
“I’ve been eating his pies for years.”
It’s one of my favourite Kiwi traits.
We can find that one-degree of separation to just about anyone who’s had a bit of success.
And pie success? That’s worth signing up to Ancestry.com just to see if there’s a family link somewhere.
And maybe it’s that pie prestige that’s always made me think of the Pie Awards as New Zealand’s version of the Oscars.
For one night, the spotlight shines on the stars of the baking industry.
Bakers arrive trying not to look nervous, despite secretly having an acceptance speech tucked away just in case.
Friends and family gather hoping their local bakery gets a mention.
There are favourites, there are dark horses and, just like every great awards night, there are always a few surprises.
Somewhere in that room is a baker who’s spent years getting up at ridiculous o’clock every morning, obsessing over pastry, perfecting fillings and wondering if anyone notices the little things.
Then they hear their bakery called out … and we discover this year’s Peter Jackson of pastry.
But unlike Hollywood, where the excitement fades almost as quickly as the after-party hangover, the Pie Awards are just the beginning.
The first bite at pie fame.
The winners are announced, social media fills with congratulations and pie pics, every town insists its local bakery was robbed, and before long someone says those nine dangerous words.
“Apparently the best pie in New Zealand is in …”
That’s it.
The plans for your weekend have just changed.
Suddenly you’re heading off on a road trip because if a group of judges reckon a bakery in the middle of nowhere has produced the best pie in the country, then surely it’s worth finding out whether it’s really pastry perfection … or whether Nana’s bacon and egg pie is still the undisputed champion.
And I love that about us.
We’ll happily take the long way home for a pie.
We’ll drive past three perfectly good bakeries because someone we trust reckons there’s a better one just up the road.
We’ll stand in a queue for 20 minutes, finally take that first bite, nod knowingly and say something completely ridiculous like, “The pastry’s excellent, but I reckon it could’ve handled another touch of pepper”.
For a few minutes we all become the pie version of wine critics.
But instead of discussing notes of blackcurrant and hints of oak, we’re analysing gravy consistency and whether the cheese has achieved the perfect level of melt.
Thankfully, nobody has to swirl a mouthful of mince around before spitting it into a silver tasting bucket.
This got me thinking.
France has wine trails.
Scotland has whisky trails.
America has Route 66.
Maybe we’ve been underselling one of New Zealand’s greatest tourism opportunities.
New Zealand should have a Pie Trail. (Working title. I’m open to suggestions.)
The funny thing is, I don’t think anyone would have to convince us.
We already do it.
Every Kiwi has that bakery they’d tell you to stop at.
Every family have a favourite pie that somehow tastes even better because you had to drive an extra half hour to get it.
All we’d really be doing is joining the dots.
But the idea can be bigger. I remember back in the 1990s every town seemed desperate to have a slogan.
Absolutely Positively Wellington.
Hamilton. More Than You Expect.
Somewhere, a creative wearing black-rimmed glasses still considers that the best day’s work of their career.
There were dozens of them.
It was all about local pride.
Maybe it’s time we reheated that local pride and wrapped it in pastry instead of words.
Every town has its own pie.
The Invercargill “Cheese Roll” Pie.
Everyone will be rolling into town for one.
The Hamilton “Fog” Pie.
Its contents would be a myst-ery, but you know there’s a splash of Waikato Draught in there.
The Auckland “Housing Market” Pie.
Packed with in-fill and the price has skyrocketed to $18 since you ordered it.
The Wellington “Bureaucrat” Pie.
Seventeen layers of pastry, very little meat, and you’ll need approval from three different departments before you can eat it.
And Central Otago would undoubtedly produce a slow-cooked lamb and pinot noir pie that costs more than you’d planned on spending but somehow still feels worth every dollar.
Before long, every road trip would become a quest worthy of Middle Earth.
Not for the One Ring … but for the one pie to rule them all.
Motorhomes of tourists and motor home association members would crawl around the country like giant road slugs, ticking off pies instead of wineries.
Families would argue over which pie, I mean town, would be the next stop.
Which brings me to this.
Some young tech genius sitting in a co-working space somewhere, wearing a black T-shirt and building the next billion-dollar app, needs to forget dating apps for five minutes and invent Pie Maps.
It would become the Kiwi version of Google Maps.
“In 500 metres, continue straight for New Zealand’s best steak and cheese.”
And that is the end of the road for this article, so finally, congratulations to this year’s winners of the Bakels Supreme Pie Awards.
You’ve reminded us that the humble pie is more than something we grab on the way to work.
It’s part of every road trip, every smoko break and every small town worth pulling over for.