Foode Review: Rock Pie. Because the Normal Things We Put in Pie Were Taken from Us in The Marauding

On a Frigg’s daye eve in springtyme, ‘twas always my family’s tradition to bake a festive pie of fresh fruits and grains from our humble farm. Oh, how the children would frolick as my wife pulled a hot jumberry pie from the fyre! The sweet smell of jumberries still sings longingly in my nostrils.

That was before The Marauding.

Now, The Marauding hath brought plundering and pillaging to our doorstep with some regularity. Most of my kin and all of my crops hath succumbed to its ravages. But I decided that wouldst not stop me from carrying out this family institution.

All the things that one would normally put in a pie hath been taken from us by Marauders in the night like my doghter was, or burnt in the ever-raging fyres brought on by the war along with seven of my sons, or otherwise we just ran out. So I decided to make a rock pie, because rocks are all I have left. Here is my review.


Still hot and crisp from the fyres. I cooked it over the smouldering remains of our stables. One’s teeth break when one bites into it. They are rocks, what did one expect? B-


The rocks taste like normal river rocks. The crust tastes like clay because I didn’t have crust ingredients so I used clay. I think there was someone in the stables when they burned down because it finishes with a slight hint of burnt flesh. Hopefully ‘twas one of the Marauders. C+


I am fairly confident my body shall never digest these rocks, and expect I shall be full for the rest of my short lyfe. A


There was no one else left to see it except my wife and youngest doghter – who were both blinded in an arrow volley – and my dogge, who was already blinde before The Marauding. Compared to previous years’ pies it looked quite awful, as does everything in this Kingforsaken war. C-


My expectations were, on the one hand, heightened by comparison to my family’s pies of the past. On the other hand, they were completely dashed by the fact we’re at war and are starving to death. Some may say that cooking clay and rocks together in a pot doth not constitute a pie. But it was something to put in my belly, and no one died today, which is more than I can say moste dayes. B-