Preparation time: Ten minutes
Cooking time: An hour?
Serves: How much do they like pie?
Dietary guidance: v
A block of feta. A BLOCK. A SMALL ONE. I don't know how much it weighs, good grief. Go crazy, buy it, eat it, have it in a salad! Rub it on your face! I don't know.
A butternut squash, butternut squash sized.
A large red onion.
8oz plain flour
Possibly some cold water
Salt and pepper.
Procure one large red onion. Slice it up, roast in BUT A (big) SLOSH of oil â€“ walnut oil, in this case â€“ on a low heat, probably for about an hour. Actually, next time I was thinking about doing this bit on the stove, since the onions dried up a bit and I wanted to have them more caramelized, and you know balsamic vinegar might go nicely in some way, but I haven't worked that step out yet.
Take a butternut squash. Hack it in half. Try not to rebound hacking knife into face. Scoop out seeds and pith, fill â€“ stuff! â€“ holey bit with cubes of feta. Envelop (Envelop!) in tinfoil, drop on a baking sheet and bake in a preheated oven for, uh, I probably did it at quite a high heat and checked every thirty minutes, but whichever way you usually roast vegetables. Extract! Cool! Scoop! Mash! Season with some salt and lots of black pepper. At this point I did the only slightly cookery thing and pressed some of the juices out in a colander lined with kitchen roll (it SHOULD be a seive lined with muslin, innit, but we are Northern, we are simple race). Mix in the onions and heap in a buttery pie dish.
Make pastry by breadcrumbing 8oz plain flour and 4oz cold butter and then banging it about a bit â€“ well, you know how to make pastry. Roll out, in some way bring into conjunction with pie dish, brush with beaten egg or stab creatively with a fork or whathaveyou, bung in the oven forâ€¦ I think it was fifteen minutes on a medium heat â€“ only until the pastry is browned, you know. I checked it a lot, but my oven goes RAW RAW RAW RAW RAW RAW BURNED, and I'm a bit paranoid.
... Thus, pie!
I think it would also be nice with brown rice in it in some capacity.
(This served ten hungry people and not one of them marked me down over lack of measurements, so stick your one star up your nostril, culinary fascist).