According to Time Travel Britain.com, the first recorded recipe for a pork pie dates back to 1390 and was made for the court of King Richard II. Most pork pies in Britain contain only pork and are modelled on the famous pork pies of Melton Mowbray. Melton Mowbray was the first town to commercially produce pork pies in England. However, an older version of the pork pie, which originated in Cheshire, consists of layers of apples and pork sweetened with sugar. This recipe was also very popular at sea due to the fact that it was easy to store and therefore kept well.
This is a Cheshire Pork Pie from Hannah Glasse's 1788 cookery book âThe Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easyâ, which Townsend took and adapted for modern cooking.
1 œ lbs / 700gr pork shoulder
œ cup/ 125gr. flour
2 tbsp butter + more as needed
1 medium onion, diced
1-2 tart apples, cored, peeled and diced - Alternatively, you can also use the same amount of potatoes like in this video - https://youtu.be/QsWja0-_3Ww?si=hzcU5Vn-2YpWsfE3 -
2 t. freshly ground nutmeg
about 1 teaspoon salt
œ teaspoon black pepper
œ teaspoon sugar and cinnamon
12 oz. (1 bottle) hard cider
Place the sliced pork in a bowl. Sprinkle pepper, salt and nutmeg over meat and mix, until the spices cover all the meat. Turn pork into greased pie dish. Cover with the apples. In a ramekin, mix the cinnamon and sugar and sprinkle over the apples. Add the wine (if you donât have wine, you can use apple juice). Dot the top with butter.
To make an easy pie crust, cut 3 tablespoons shortening into one cup of flour until it looks crumbly. Add 6 tablespoons cold water and mix, then turn out onto floured surface and roll. Place pie crust over top of mixture. Poke holes with fork to ventilate.
Put the pie onto a pizza sheet to catch any liquid that might bubble over and bake in a very hot oven for 50 minutes or until the crust is golden brown and the liquid is bubbly. Let sit 5-10 minutes before cutting.
I got carried away with this one. I'm realizing I'm doing a lot more worldbuilding rather than just writing the one-shots, but I won't lie, I'm having a lot of fun doing that. In my mind, Townsend has the most painfully boring and sweet British family ever. I wanted to write the awkwardness that had to have ensued once they found out Edward had a grown child, so...here we are. It's a little long, but I'd looove to keep exploring the relationships Zach eventually has with his family.
âLook, if she asks you if you want pie, you donât have to say yes, you can just decline it,â said Townsend, turning on his windshield wipers as the small black car drove steadily along the two-lane English countryside road.
âOkay.â
âTheyâll like you. Theyâre good people, my family. Ideally donât tell them you went to a military academy, then theyâll think youâre a delinquent,â said Townsend, his eyes still on the road, but Zach could see him shift ever so slightly, as if he were anxious, too.
âRight, so should I say âschool for assassinsâ or âschool for spies?ââ muttered Zach, glaring at the rolling hills of the English Cotswolds. He wasnât the type to talk back to adults, much less the man who was now calling himself his father, but he was bitter about the whole situation. Bitter that instead of hanging out with Cammie some more after Joe and Rachelâs wedding, heâd been invited to England to meet Townsendâs family. His family, too, apparently.
Heâd spent the last month and some change on a farm just outside of Hay Springs, Nebraska, and it shocked him that it was one of the best monthâs of his life. Heâd gotten to properly be alone with his girlfriend, the two of them getting to do normal couple things like go to a movie, and not be chased by terrorists. Heâd even gotten to buy flowers for her for the first time, and if the way she had smiled up at him was any indication, heâd be doing that a lot for the rest of his life.
But now, Cammie was with Bex inâŠCroatia, maybe? He wasnât entirely sure, but he knew heâd be in England for at least the next two weeks, and although he hadnât met these people yet, he was counting down the days before he could head back and spend time with his friends and girlfriend.
âWell, ideally Zachary, youâll say neither,â clipped Townsend, as the two passed an exit for Hampnett, and continued to head west. Zach could tell you almost everything about the geographic region of the Cotswolds, England. Could tell you the average precipitation, the kind of plants that were native to the area, and could even tell you some famous battles that had happened in the region. He could not, however, tell you a damn thing about the people that he was related to who lived in the area. âJust tell them you went to a private boarding school for boys. They donât know what I do, and I intend to keep it that way. Theyâre under the impression that I write government contracts for MI6.â
He nodded glumly, as they passed yet more thousand-year-old stone buildings with ivy crawling up them. They were only an hour from London Heathrow, and Townsend had promised they could spend some time in London after visiting his family. Townsend knew Zach had been to London on at least one other occasion, having visited the Baxterâs flat the summer before, when he had found out Cammie had run away, but he didnât think that was the time to bring that up.
âDo theyâŠthink less of me?â he asked, voice cautious. Townsend measured his words carefully, noting the vulnerability in the boyâs voice. He had fucked up, badly, and he had to remember he was speaking to his son that had grown up without a father, all because he had neverâŠnever thought to question, to ask, to demand answers of Catherine. Then, Zach cleared his through continuing, âDo they think IâmâŠevil?âÂ
âNo,â said Townsend, firmly, but trying to make his voice gentle. âNo, if anything, Mum almost killed me when I told them a few weeks ago. Said I was an irresponsible prat and Iâd kept her from knowing her grandkid.â
âCan you run through everyone again? Just so IâŠdonât seem like an idiot trying to talk to them all?â
âYes. My sisterâs name is Marie. Sheâs three years older than me, and she has two kids a little younger than you. Her childrenâs names are Nancy and Liam. Her husband died a few years back, so itâs just the three of them. My brotherâs name is Alfred, and he has twin girls that areâŠeight years old I believe. Theyâre sweethearts, their names are Penelope, but she prefers Penny, and Phillipa, but she prefers Pippa. His wifeâs name is Annie, and sheâs American.â
Zach nodded along, trying to wrap his mind around the incredibly weird concept of going from one parent, no cousins, no grandparents, no siblingsâŠto at least four first cousins, two living grandparents, and a father. The one parent heâd grown up with was gone, and although he was glad she wasnât terrorizing people anymore (namely the girl he loved), it was still strange. His mother was the only constant heâd known his entire life. His only family. Expecting to bond with strangers just because they were related by blood was freaking him out.
For the millionth time since their flight took off from DCA, Zach wished Cammie was here. Her grandparents had been lovely. Her grandfather had warmed up to him eventually, and her grandmother had the kindest eyes heâd ever seen. He felt more at home with her family, with Rachel, with Abby (and, he supposed, Joe was her stepfather now, so him, too), than he could ever hope to feel with Townsend.
 His one saving grace was that Abby would be joining them in the next few days, meeting Townsendâs family for the first time, as soon as she was back from her latest mission. From what Zach could tell, it was the first time Townsend had introduced a woman to his family since his high school girlfriend.
Heâd certainly never introduced his mother to them. For some reason, that caused a bit of a pit of resentment in his stomach. He was a bastard child with a dead mother meeting grandparents that probably wouldnât give a shit about him because they had Pippa and Penny and their other perfect grandchildren to dote on.
He must not have figured out the poker face for I think my biological fatherâs family is going to hate me, because he heard Townsend say, âTheyâre very excited to meet you. Mumâs been talking about it nonstop. They are lovely people, Zachary, so I do at least hope youâll try.â
Townsend had turned onto a one-lane, narrow row, and Zach saw a sign reading Whittington Lodge Farm, as they passed small stone walls, and houses that reminded him of the Gallagher Academy. Before my psychotic mother burned it all down, he reminded himself, the guilt snapping away at him for the millionth time since the fire,
They turned down yet another road, this time gravel, and barely wide enough for their small car to fit through. The path was shaded well, and Zach couldnât see past the canopy of trees that dotted either side of the path. Then, he felt the car slow, as it pulled up behind four other small cars in a small clearing.
The house sat low against the slope of the land, and the stone was an inviting honey color. The windows were deep set and unevenly spaced, some square, some taller, and some curved at the top. The roofline was slate, with two small chimneys on opposite sides of the house. There was ivy crawling towards the guttering. It looked like an old house, and Zach wondered just how long his lineage had been in this house.
He wondered if this house would know he wasnât meant to be here, sense the awkward, American impostor trampling into this house that looked straight out of a postcard. He took it in, not leaving the car, even when Townsend turned off the car and looked right at him.
âThis house was built in the 1700s. As far as I know, our family has owned it the entire time. My sister was born in this house, but by the time they got to me, they had accepted that hospitals werenât always a bad thing. It didnât get electricity until the mid 1930âs, but my parents got internet installed after I went off to college,â offered Townsend, and Zach wondered if it was hard for Townsend to admit so many personal things about himself, too.
Well, at least he knew where he got that from.
He just nodded, taking a deep breath and opening the car door, stretching his legs after the drive, and staring up at the stone house. He didnât have time to stare for long, because the door swung open, and a woman stepped out like sheâd been waiting for hours. Perhaps even two decades.
She wasnât very tall, but she carried herself like a woman who had spent her life commanding attention without ever raising her voice. She carried herself like a matriarchâreminding him of Cammieâs grandmother. Her gray hair was swept into a bun, and she wore a light blue cardigan, an apron still thrown over her outfit. In the fenced in yard, he could see chicken roaming, and smell something like thyme or rosemary, or maybe both.
Her eyes were the same steel blue as her sonâs, but they held a lot more warmth, Zach thought. They locked into him and almost bloomed with life. She was smiling wide, and walking towards him and Townsend. Her mouth opened, then closed again, as if she couldnât figure out how to greet someone sheâd imagined a thousand different times, but never met.
She looked like him. Or maybe he looked like her. She had the same angle to her chin, same nose that he saw when he looked in the mirror. When her eyes searched him, it was as if she was trying to make up for eighteen years in ten seconds.
âZachary! It is so good to meet you, darling. Edward here has told us so much about you. Iâm so glad you decided to come,â at that last word, her voice broke, and Zach felt her arms thrown around him. He didnât really know what to do, so he hugged her back. She was warm, smelled faintly like bread, and hugged him more enthusiastically than any adult figure in his life had ever hugged him.
Her accent was distinctly Irish, and gave the impression of someone who was not educated beyond a secondary school level. He quickly put two and two together, and realized that his grandmother must have married into this area if Townsendâs family had owned this house for 300 years. She reminded him of Cammieâs grandmother, and that thought alone made him decide he wanted to like his grandmother.
âItâs nice to meet you, tooâŠHelen?â he finally got out, trying his hardest to smile back at his grandmother. It wasnât her fault that this was such an awkward situation for everyone involved. Then again, he thought, it definitely wasnât his fault either.
âOh, sweetheart, please, call me Grandma. Unless you donât feel comfortable yet, but I promise you weâre incredibly excited youâre here,â said the woman, and for the first time, it occurred to Zach that she was just as nervous as he was about this entire situation.
âIâŠâ his voice faltered, and all of a sudden he felt a wave of emotions, none of which he could bring himself to utter out loud. I wonder what it would have been like to grow up with you as a grandma. Iâm sorry my psychopathic mother neglected you the opportunity to be my grandmother. I think your son is kind of a dick, how are you so nice?
So he settled on, âIâŠI appreciate it. Thank you. Iâm excited to be here.â He cracked a smile, and the woman smiled back. Her smile looked so familiar, so warm, and he realized it was what he looked like when he smiled.
âLet him breathe, Helen,â said a manâs voice, appearing from the door. He was older, heavier, walked with a limp in his right leg that Zach suspected was combat related. He racked his brain, trying to remember every conflict the British had gotten involved with in the last half century. âHeâs just arrived.â
The man walked over to him, and Zach noticed that he seemed a lot more easygoing than his son. He was starting to wonder if maybe Townsend was the black sheep of his family, too. âNice to meet you, sir,â he said politely, really starting to get freaked out over this whole grandparent thing.
âSir, Edward, son, this one really is yours,â said the man, then clasped a hand to Zachâs back, looking him up and down. âSame bloody stubborn set to the jaw. You could have picked him right up in Manchester and no one would question it, if not for the bloody accent.â At that, he couldnât help but crack a small smile, having heard comments about his bloody accent from another Brit in his life.
âI, uhâŠthank you?â
His grandfather chuckled. âDonât thank me, lad. Iâm George, your grandfather. Apologies for our sonâer, your father, I supposeâheâs been a bit of a wanker since childhood.â
âDad,â Townsend said sharply, stepping forward, and Zach felt the level of weirdness could not get any weirder.
By the time they stepped into the house and Zach had been given a tour of the modest home, and shown the room where heâd be staying for the next fortnight, heâd felt himself relax a bit. Helen had insisted on showing him the chickens in the backyard, and Zach appreciated the gently rolling hills of the Cotswolds almost as much as the flat Sandhills of Cammieâs grandparentsâ ranch.
âAlfred, Annie and the twins wonât be here until tomorrow, theyâre off in Edinburgh dealing with fall enrollment for the girlsâ school, but theyâre excited to meet you. Marie and her children will be here later today. Her kids are just a bit younger than you, so I imagine Nancy wonât be happy to lose the eldest grandchild title, but honestly, Iâm just so happy youâre here, darling,â rambled his grandmother, and Zach just nodded, unsure of what else to say.
He heard Townsend and George off in the living room debating English football teams, as he and Helen rounded the corner of the kitchen. âZach, dear, Iâd love to learn more about you. Edward told us you had just graduated high school and that you were moving to D.C. in the fall, with a lovely girl. What are your plans?â
Damn, it seemed he couldnât evade that question even on this side of the Atlantic. He hadnât quite figured out his long-term plan, just that he would be starting at the CIA full-time in August as a junior agent. He and Cammie had specifically requested to be partners within the agency, meaning theyâd partner on most missions together, as long as her schedule and their objective allowed it.
Heâd remembered asking her the night they graduated from the Gallagher Academy, and the words that had tumbled out of her mouth afterwards, Yes. Yes, Iâll be your partner. I love you, Zach, were definitely his favorite words sheâd ever said. It had helped that Townsend would be working more closely with the CIA following the demise of the Inner Circle, and had thus been assigned to be their handler. It was a good way to start their relationship off, he supposed, and he could respect Townsend as an authority figureâŠjust not his dad.
âIâll be starting with the PeaceCorps in the fall,â he lied smoothly. That was the cover story heâd crafted with Townsend, both for his family, and for nosy civilians. Itâd allow him to âtravelâ a lot without a college degree while he waited for Cammie to finish school, and then eventually heâd transition into an apprenticeship or internship in a field he had yet to decide as his cover.
âOh thatâs wonderful, dear,â said Helen, reaching inside the credenza in the hallway and pulling out a worn photo album. Then she smiled again, her blue eyes twinkling as she said, âZach, darling, has Edward shown you any of his childhood pictures?â
âMum, no,â came Townsendâs voice from the next room, and Zach had to hold back a bit of a laugh. âNo, maâam, but Iâd love to see.â
She laughed, and Zach followed her into the living room where a football match was on the television, and Townsend and George were still arguing about Manchester or Arsenal orâŠsomething. Heâd have to ask Bex what team he was supposed to be rooting for.
He sat next to Helen as she opened the well-worn book, and Zach was greeted by a variety of photos, yellow with age and a little curled around the edges as if they had lived on the fridge on a magnet before being put in here. He recognized Townsend immediately becauseâŠwellâŠZach was realizing more and more that he looked a lot like Townsend. There was one of Townsend, aged around seven, in front of a kiddie pool with a blonde girl who looked a few years olderâTownsendâs sister, Marie, he figured. He was holding a small tortoise and Marie was making a face, almost pushing her brother away.
âThat was the tortoise Edward found one summerâŠwhat year was it, George? 1980? He and his sister insisted on keeping it all summer and gave it such an absurd name. What was it, Eddie, dear?â
âIâm not telling you, Mum.â
Zach laughed before he could stop himself. âOh! He named it Artemis Hardshell. Thought he was real clever for that one. Eventually the poor thing must have gotten sick of the English countryside, because he escaped. Poor Edward and Marie were devastated,â said Helen, and Zach saw out of the corner of his eye that both George and Townsend were smiling.
Helen flipped the page, revealing a school photo of a boy about sixteen or seventeen. It was like looking in a funhouse mirror. âEdward tells us you went to a boysâ boarding school, as well. So did he. We always thought heâd end up a schoolmaster,â she mused. â He was such a quiet child, did nothing but read and write.â
She flipped again, and Zach saw an adult Townsend staring back at him. He must have been no older than 22, and his heart panged when he saw that Townsend was holding a baby. Not him, though, since the child he was holding was distinctly a girl. The photo was dated April of 1995, meaning Zach would have been around four months old, and Townsend had had no idea. Yet here, he was, holding another baby, who was smiling cheekily at the camera. He again recognized his own face staring back at him, Townsendâs hair stuck up at odd angles, the MI6 t-shirt he was wearing covered in spit-up. But Townsend was laughing. Heâd seen the man smile only a handful of times, but this younger version of him was smiling.
âThatâs Amelia,â said Townsend, his mind following the same train of thought as Zachâs. He cleared his throat, sheepishly adding, âSheâs my cousinâs daughterâyour second cousin, I guess. Her mum and dad both died when she was only a few months old, so she grew up with my parents, and her grandparents a lot. She's a real asshole, but sheâs great. Sheâs considering your career field.â Zach could read between the lines with the last sentenceâshe was a spy. Or, maybe she would be.
Zach looked through the rest of the photobook with Helen, and by the time they had dinner, he was feeling a bit better about the situation. His grandparents wereâŠlovely, honestly. He had wished heâd had someone like his grandmother when he was a kid. Someone who could bake fresh bread and make a delicious roast, even if the British werenât exactly known for their cuisine. He had grown up with cold food, or run through drive-thru's as his mother would pack and unpack them all over the world. He could count on one hand the number of times his mother had cooked something special that left him feeling full.
Philippa and Penelope Townsend were the first children Zach had ever truly met. They were sweet, fiery girls with bright red hair who demanded he play tag with them, were shockingly good at hide and seek, and insisted on showing him all the cool rocks on their grandparentsâ property. They didnât ask why he hadnât been their cousin for so long, didnât ask him questions about his mother, and just asked stuff like âIs your girlfriend pretty?â and âI bet I can beat her at hide and seek!â
He decided he liked Pippa and Penny the most of his newfound family. Helen came in a close second, though.
Meeting Townsendâs siblings, Alfred and Marie, was an entirely different ball game, and they did have questions. Lots of questions. About his mother, his upbringing, if being a prat was hereditary (Alfred got a punch from Townsend for that one), but they were generally good-natured. They were kind, seemed to take great pride in bullying their brother, and were glad their children got along well with Zach.
Nancy was sixteen, and was Marieâs eldest daughter. She was quiet, smart, and had been reading a book any time Zach was in the room. She wasnât sullen around him, but she did seem cautious, and for that, Zach couldnât blame her. Heâd figured her and Liam, her brother, would warm up to him eventually. Theyâd all have to talk eventually, since it seemed this whole âfamilyâ situation he had found himself in was permanent.
He liked Alfredâs wife, Annie, too. She had been born and raised in Kansas City, Missouri, so she was at least familiar with where Zach was born, and sympathized that he had been born in âsuch a shithole, honestly.â They bonded over being the only Americans, and she complained to him privately that she dearly missed American food, and that if he was living in D.C., she and Alfred would have an excuse to bring the girls to the States and have some real cuisine. He had laughed along and told her that once he and Cammie figured out what spots were good, heâd invite them over.
At the end of the first week, he found himself feeling almost comfortable with the chaos, with the newfound people that he was biologically related to. Heâd even met Amelie, who told him in secret that sheâd been recruited to work for MI6. She was still in training, and not having attended some sort of school for espionage, Zach realized, really put somebody behind in working in the clandestine services. But then heâd think of his own father, who hadnât started with MI6 until he was halfway through university, and realized that maybe Amelie could be a kick-ass agent one day, too. He made a mental note to introduce her to Rebecca Baxter, MI6 when he got the chance.
When Abby showed up at the beginning of his second week there, Zach was no longer the center of attention, and he loved it. The aura that Abby always had around her oozed confidence, respect, and just general coolness. She enchanted everyone she spoke to, and when she interacted with the twin girls, Zach couldnât help but think that if she and Townsend did stay together (and, God forbid, have kids), sheâd be pretty good at that, too.
He drank copious amounts of tea, went for at least five drives through the English countryside with his grandfather and Alfred, explored the nearby town with the Pippa and Penny, and even taught Amelie the Kuczko technique that heâd learned in his first year at Blackthorne to properly disarm someone.Â
So by the end of his second week, when he was packing up his duffel bag and getting ready to head back to London and meet with his girlfriend, and their best friend, his grandmother came up behind him.
âIâm so glad you stayed with us, Zach, dear. I hope we didnât scare you off.â
âI had a lovely timeâŠGrandma,â the words felt foreign on his tongue, but the beam that lit up the older womanâs features more than made the sensation worth it. âYou have a beautiful home, and Iâm glad youâre allâŠokay with me being here.â
âNonsense, dear. Youâre family. Edward screwed up royally by not knowing you were his child, but we have the rest of our lives to be family,â she ruffled his hair, and Zach felt an odd dash of adoration for his grandmother. âNext time youâll bring Cammie, right? I think the girls would love to meet her, and if your relationship is as serious as Edward tells us it is, I want to properly meet her and welcome her to our family, too.â
âYes, Iâll have to bring her next time,â said Zach, slowly, and he felt himself mean it as he said, âSheâd love this place.â
