A pie glossary

From ‘gobbets’ to ‘coffins’, Steph Wetherell delves into the weird and wonderful history of the pie

Illustration by Sue Gent

Illustration by Sue Gent

bakemete (noun)
A Middle English word meaning, quite simply, a pie.

chewitts (noun)
A ‘one-bite’ pie common in the late medieval period.

coffin/coffyn (noun)
Original name for a pastry case, made into elaborate shapes and patterns.

forcemeat (noun)
Lean meat, such as veal, that was ground or chopped finely and mixed with fat then formed into balls and baked in a pie with sweetmeats or marrow.

gable (noun)
The raised and decorative edges to a pie, often visually representative of a local castle.

gobbet (noun)
A term referring to a piece of meat or flesh.

saucer pie (noun)
A thin pie made from leftovers, baked in a saucer.

umble pie (noun)
Filled with the minced or chopped innards of an animal (usually a deer), and the origin of the term ‘to eat humble pie’.

Words: Steph Wetherell; thelocavore.co.uk

You can read the full feature in issue 7 of Ernest Journal, currently on sale at 20% off along with our other back issues. Sale ends midnight 31 May.

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The Uncanny Scenery of a Dream

In his upcoming exhibition at the Jealous Gallery, London, Stanley Donwood showcases his mesmerizing illustrations inspired by the poems of Thomas Hardy

Our paths through flowers (2021), by Stanley Donwood

Many may recognise Stanley Donwood's artwork from the cover of every Radiohead album since The Bends in 1995 , and his Brothers Grimm-esque illustrations for Rob Macfarlane and Dan Richards' bestseller Holloway.

Donwood’s latest body of work, The Uncanny Scenery of A Dream, draws inspiration from the rural Dorset landscapes described in Thomas Hardy’s Selected Poems, which will be published in a new hardback edition from The Folio Society later this year. To create the series, Donwood travelled to the areas that inspired the author’s poetry, creating a series of sketches on scraps of paper, old envelopes, maps and torn pages from yellowing books. In appreciation of the strong abiding affection Hardy felt for Dorset, Donwood immersed himself in the romantic landscape and rendered atmospheric layered drawings, providing a new way of visualising Hardy’s Wessex.

In his illustrations Donwood explains he has “tried to encapsulate the vague air of solitary melancholy” he interprets from Hardy’s work. Many drawings depict a lone figure in isolated environments with boundless sky above, and flocks of birds transcending the page and earthly plane.

The Uncanny Scenery Of A Dream runs from 27 May - 20 June 2021 at Jealous East, 53 Curtain Road, London, EC2A 3PT, then the exhibition continues at their Crouch End Gallery, 27 Park Road, London N8 8TE from 24 June - 18 July 2021. Find out more at jealousgallery.com

In our upcoming edition of Ernest, author Dan Richards speaks to Stanley Donwood about his new artworks depicting the chalkscapes of the South Downs.

Above: In A Solitude of The Sea and Our Paths Through Flowers, by Stanley Donwood


The Welsh Camino

In his new book Pilgrimage: Journeys of Meaning, Peter Stanford explores how pilgrimage provides the modern age with a means to take a longer, slower and hence more profound look at life, stretching all the way back to when the first pilgrim put one foot in front of another. In this extract, he describes how the ‘Camino effect’ has rippled its way to a forgotten trail in the North Wales countryside

The Abbey ruins on Bardsey Island, North Wales. © History collection 2016/Alamy Stock Photo

The Abbey ruins on Bardsey Island, North Wales. © History collection 2016/Alamy Stock Photo

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm on your face, the rains fall soft upon your fields
and until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of His hand.

This traditional Celtic blessing has been adopted by the North Wales Pilgrim’s Way. It sums up both the spirit in which walkers take up the challenge it offers, and the ever-present connection to an earlier age that the route provides to all-comers. In early Christianity, the wind at your back would have been readily understood as the Holy Spirit, but for the new generation of pilgrims there is no requirement to talk of the visible in terms of the invisible. What is openly expressed, though, is the ambition that this trail should be regarded as the ‘Welsh Camino’. In 2009, Jenny and Chris Potter had walked the Camino in Spain. On their return to North Wales – where Chris served as an archdeacon in Saint Asaph, which boasts the smallest Anglican cathedral in Britain, built on the site where another Celtic saint, Kentigern, established himself as a bishop in the sixth century – they were inspired to explore the history of the neglected pilgrim path that passed right by their doorstep. 

It has been thanks to their efforts – a perfect illustration of the ‘Camino effect’ rippling outwards – that a route was identified, mapped, tested out in 2011, waymarked, and then officially opened in 2014, complete with its very own pilgrim’s passport, which can be stamped at churches, shops and pubs on the way. In some places the trail mirrors the one original Celtic pilgrims would have taken, its identifying landmarks being small, low-lying ancient churches and sacred wells that are scattered all over the North Wales countryside, along with distinctive Celtic crosses such as the tall, thin tenth-century ‘wheel cross’ in a field at Maen Achwyfan in Flintshire on the route near the village of Llanasa (‘the enclosure of Saint Asaph’). It features intricate knot patterns in its weather-beaten carvings, as well as a shadowy figure on the lower panel. Their exact meaning is lost in the mists of time – like a lot of things with Celtic Christianity. Meanwhile, one suggestion for this ‘wheel cross’ being in such a lonely location is that it marks what was once a hermit monk’s cell, built to be far away from any distraction save nature and God.

Place names that begin with Llan- generally indicate a sacred past, but there are so many of them in North Wales it didn’t really help in pinning down a definitive pilgrims’ route. So, notably at Abergwyngregyn around the halfway point, where the route joins the already established Wales Coast Path, the Pilgrim’s Way opts to make use of existing infrastructure. If this is not a perfect recreation, then it does successfully link four key locations from 1,300 years ago: Holywell, Gwytherin, Clynnog Fawr and Bardsey. The first three share a close association with two presiding presences on the pilgrimage, uncle and niece Saints Beuno and Winefride.

Penmaenmawr stone circle, photo © Hansjoerg Lipp (cc-by-sa/2.0)

Penmaenmawr stone circle, photo © Hansjoerg Lipp (cc-by-sa/2.0)

Like so many other Celtic monks Beuno, who died around 640, came from a privileged background. He embodied the missionary spirit that was a key part of vocation. His personal pilgrimage was as much about finding souls to convert as it was seeking personal enlightenment. After ordination in Bangor, now a popular starting point halfway along the Pilgrim’s Way for those on a tight time schedule, he spent his days travelling all around North Wales, bringing people to a God whom he saw in every bit of the dramatic natural environment around him, bounded as it is by the sea on one side and the spectacular mountain range that includes Snowdon, Wales’s highest peak, to the other. Often when he moved on after such a mission, he would leave behind a simple church building and a well. Water had special significance to Celtic Christians, who used ‘triple immersion’ in baptism ceremonies (in contrast to today when a tiny scoop of water is deemed sufficient). And Beuno was never happier, legend recounts, than when praying half-immersed in cold water, punishing his body to bring his soul closer to God.

Water also possessed healing powers, he believed. The pagan roots of this typically Celtic belief are plain. Indeed, one of the features of the North Wales Pilgrim’s Way is that it encompasses, alongside Christian churches and crosses, pagan holy sites such as the stone circle at Penmaenmawr (pictured above), and the 4,000-year-old yew in the churchyard at Llangernyw. On account of their extraordinary longevity – making them a symbol of (near) eternal life – yews held a special place in pre-Christian belief systems. Springs and wells, too, as well as groves of trees, were believed to be sacred, and became the backdrop to pagan rituals. Emerging Christianity sought not to confront and wipe away such patterns of worship, but rather to merge them in its own approach to the divine. Some anthropologists refer to this process of assimilation as ‘baptizing the customs’.

9780500252413_packshot 1_Pilgrimage.jpg

This is an extract from the chapter ‘The North Wales Pilgrim’s Way: Celtic Revival’ in Pilgrimage: Journeys of Meaning by Peter Stanford (Thames & Hudson: 2021)

In partnership with Thames & Hudson we’re giving away three copies of this beautiful book on Instagram – head over to our feed to find out how to enter.

Thames & Hudson are also providing Ernest readers with a 25% discount off the book - just enter ‘PILGRIM25’ at the checkout when you order through their website.

Island dreams

“Of the islands I’ve cherished most, I met many first in print”. In Island Dreams, Gavin Francis examines our collective fascination with islands. In this short extract, he follows the literature of Charles Darwin, Bruce Chatwin and Herman Melville to remote islands in the Pacific and Southern Atlantic Ocean.

South Georgia and Bird Island, G.W. Colton, Colton’s Atlas of the World Illustrating Physical and Political Geography, Vol. 1 (New York, 1855)

South Georgia and Bird Island, G.W. Colton, Colton’s Atlas of the World Illustrating Physical and Political Geography, Vol. 1 (New York, 1855)

Chiloé

The island of Chiloé is notorious for a dank and macabre mythology in which much of the population is said to still believe: goblins, warlocks and all manner of creatures are thought to populate the caves in the forest along the eastern shore. When Darwin visited in the 1830s there were tales of people accused of devil worship being sent to the Inquisition in Lima. On the island’s western coast, I watched the Pacific. The roar of it, the mother of all oceans, deadened all other sounds. My mind couldn’t begin to grasp the immensity of water: the same ocean lapping the Antarctic, California, New Zealand and countless thousands of atolls and islands sprinkling across the globe’s half-span. From it, tropical sunshine raises clouds which pour rain over the whole of the earth. The number of dialects and languages spoken along these shores was inconceivable, as were the diversity and abundance of the species and habitats dipped in the water that slapped the soles of my feet.

Tierra del Fuego

There was a time in my youth when, like Bruce Chatwin, I was captivated by E. Lucas Bridges’ The Uttermost Part of the Earth – a book about growing up on the island of Tierra del Fuego, at the tip of Patagonia. I went there aged 26, between a spell training in emergency medicine and taking a job as a doctor with the British Antarctic Survey. I travelled north to the Valle Carbajal. Eagles watched warily from low-hanging branches, a Fuegian fox ran off with my bread rolls, at the summit I swung by legs over glaciers the colour of petrified sky. In four days along the trails there were no other walkers.

Bird Island, South Georgia

On our approach to South Georgia, the ship pushed through bands of fog and sunshine, the seas around the ship’s hill teeming with life. Fur seals somersaulted through the water; sooty, wandering and black-browed albatrosses swooped in the ship’s wake. The waves frothed with giant petrels, cape petrels and penguins. I took a ‘tender’ to meet scientists who live year-round on Bird Island – a splinter of rock off South Georgia’s western cape. They handed me a broom handle ‘seal-bodger’ with which I was to beat off any fur seals that approached with fangs bared. Black-browed albatrosses nested along the slopes among the tussock grass. Up on the plateau I tiptoed, awe-struck, between the nests of wandering albatrosses. The immense birds, larger than swans and with a 12ft wingspan, were untroubled by my presence, marvellous in their serenity.

Island Dreams: Mapping an Obsession (Canongate: 2020) is an exploration of isolation and connectedness based on 30 years of travel, from Gavin Francis the Sunday Times bestselling author of Adventures in Human Being and Empire Antarctica.

On Familiar Ground: the highlights

At the start of our third national lockdown back in January, we launched a photographic series on Instagram, themed On Familiar Ground, inviting friends of Ernest to share their images taken on local walks during the course of the year, seeking the curious in the everyday, and the new in the familiar. We were blessed with an incredible array of contributors, from travel photographers and nature writers to outdoor counsellors and artists, all limited to roaming close to home and seeing their local landscapes with fresh eyes. We’ve compiled some of our favourite images and stories from the series below…

Nash Point, Glamorgan Heritage Coast, by Daniel Alford

Nash Point, Glamorgan Heritage Coast, by Daniel Alford

Photographer Rebecca Douglas is based in Thanet, Kent. She was born and raised by the sea, and for her, one of the silver linings of lockdown was to see visit nearby areas she’d never truly explored before the pandemic.

Pegwell Bay: “One sunset in December, I went for a walk at Pegwell Bay Nature Reserve, and so many of the elements aligned. The tide was high, the wind still, and the moon rose through the gradient of last light while marsh birds flocked together.

Fantastic Mr Fox: “I opened the backdoor, looked down the garden and spotted a visitor sitting in the climber on my neighbour’s shed. It looked at me and I looked at it. I started clicking; the fox was looking straight down the barrel of my lens.

Egret in the mist: “The weather vibes in Thanet are very muted here at the moment, with heavy cloud and fog clinging to the shore. It’s certainly reflecting the mood of current times.

Travel photographer Dan Cook is based in Sheffield. Throughout the series of lockdowns he often walked the same route every day to see the landscape change through the seasons, or explored areas he’d only ever previously passed through by car.

Dandelion ruff: “I try to use my daily walks as a creative outlet; taking my camera to familiar places and experimenting. In this case, with some intentional camera movement, I tried to make something interesting from a lone dandelion.

Woodland in the suburbs: “I picked one of the hottest days of the year for my longest walk during lockdown. The Sheffield Round Walk took me through familiar areas but also forced me to walk in places I only usually experience by car. I particularly enjoyed this small woodland squeezed between residential streets and a golf course.

Signs of summer: “I’ve appreciated the changes that summer brings a little more mindfully this year. My daily walks through a nature reserve always reveal a subtle change in colour or texture, as different plants and trees thrive in the typical mix of sun and rain.

Travel photographer Daniel Alford is based in Cardiff. During lockdown he found himself scouring Google Earth for local walks in the hope of scratching his adventure itch.

Dragons Back: “When lockdown measures were relaxed briefly in the summer, I headed into the mountains as often as I could. Eager to avoid the crowds, I explored the eastern Brecon Beacons for the first time.”

Lavernock Point: “This was about as far as my feet could take me during lockdown, a few miles along the coast from Cardiff Bay. Here you can see the red sands of the Triassic desert meeting the light limestone of the Jurassic seas.

Fossil, Lavernock: “Hunting for clues of ancient worlds a short walk from Cardiff Bay. The rocks here took me back into the warm shallow seas of the Jurassic, where this ammonite once floated, minding its own business.”

Writer and Outdoors Counsellor Ruth Allen is based in the White Peak, Derbyshire. She made the decision early on in the pandemic to stay as close to home as possible, barely using her car. This has meant her covering the same ground over and over again, inviting her to pay a lot more attention to detail, and to look at her local area in new, creative ways.

Trees: “What a slow, gentle lift it is to see the same trees through a whole turning of the seasons.”

Bird hide: “Being in a landlocked place has driven me to despair at times during lockdown. I’ve hankered for water, desperate to see the sea. During the winter months I cycled to my local bird reserve to just sit and gaze at the stretch of water and wintering birds for a while. It helps to look into the distance.”

Peephole: “With a new way of looking at my local area, every hole in a fence opens up the possibility of seeing things you would otherwise overlook. In the case, gulls in the sewage works.

Travel photographer Oliver Berry is based in Falmouth, Cornwall. Usually travelling to far-flung corners of the globe, he found himself having to adjust to this new reality of staying close to home during the pandemic, and spending a whole 12 months without ever leaving Cornwall.

Falmouth Docks: “The docks are 10 minutes’ walk away from my house. At night I can see the lights of the cranes and hear the drone of machinery. Over the last few months I’ve often walked there to look at the latest arrivals, and sometimes found myself tracking their journeys using GPS shipping trackers. It gives me a sense of connection to this old industry that’s kept the town going for nearly half a millennia.

Stormy sea: “A lot of people say they love the sea. But down here in Cornwall, people have a much more ambivalent relationship with it. Shipwrecks, storms, beachings and drownings have been part of Cornwall’s history for hundreds of years, and for me and many other Cornish people, it’s impossible to forget how capricious and untrustworthy the sea can be.

Writer Laura Pashby is based in the Cotswolds. During lockdown she would go out for a walk every day with her three sons and her camera in all weathers. She liked to capture foggy mornings (which happen often in her steep-hilled corner of the Cotswolds) and the sparkling winter light.

Hilltop bench: “I sat on a bench at the top of a hill, watching the valley filling up with fog. The hill on the opposite side of the valley floated like a tiny island in a sea of cloud.

Umbellifers: “Foggy morning are my favourite, and those with a dusting of frost are the most magical of all. These umbellifers looked so pretty, draped with spiderwebs.

Diverging path: “A favourite spot in the woods where a path diverges. The curve of the treetops made this scene feel otherworldly on a fog-softened morning.

Head over to our Instagram feed to see more images On Familiar Ground