Back to my Yooper Roots

As pretty as it was today, I couldn't quite summon enthusiasm for doing anything outdoors.  When I woke up, it was -10 degrees. I thought maybe if it warms to zero, I'd think about a ski or a run.  But by midday when the thermometer still read -10 and my energy level felt about the same, I decided to go back to my Yooper (Upper Peninsula of Michigan - U.P) roots .  I made pasties (past-ies); a combination of meat, potatoes, carrots, onion and burger that is baked inside a crust.  

The Cornish tin miners brought the meal with them when they immigrated to the U.P. in the late 1800's when the copper and iron mining were booming.  The pasty was a hearty, cheap meal that could easily be heated on a shovel over the miner's head lamp candle.  While mining in the U.P. has dwindled, the popularity of pasties have not.  Go through any town in the U.P., and you will see a sign outside mom and pop type stores saying, "FRESH HOT PASTIES" or the nearby grocery store sells them in their deli section.  I know because when I head back each summer, I notice those signs more now than I ever did growing up and I always make sure I buy the kids at least one meal.

Even though, I grew up watching or helping my mom make pasties, I can count on one hand how many times I've actually made pasties in the last 24 years.  I usually go for the shorten version "pot pasty", all the filling thrown in a casserole dish and baked at 375 degrees for 45 minutes.  I'm not big on taking a lot of time to make meals, unless it is a special occasion. Well today turned into a special occasion and I started chopping potatoes and mixing crust.  I can't have kids with a Yooper mother who can never remember their mother making pasties for them.  Can I?

In the middle of my pasty making, Wyatt asked me to drop him off at his friends house down the street, but reminded me to save at least 2 pasties for him.  I looked at my big batch of pasty mix and pie crust and wondered how much does he think I can eat.  Just as my last batch was about to come out of the oven, Gus, who had been snowboarding all day, called me to pick him up from Palmer.  I turned off the oven and headed to town.  Knowing he'd be starving, I said, "There are hot pasties in the oven when you get home."  His reply, "Ah, I was craving a big plate of spaghetti."  And as an afterthought he kindly added,  "But a pasty sounds pretty good too."  I opted not to snap back with, "They better be good because you'll be eating pasties for the next week."
For more information about pasties - http://www.hu.mtu.edu/vup/pasty/history.htm