HARRY PEARSON
THE BIG TEES
Harry Pearson’s new Tees Life column
A
Food for thought
couple of decades ago it was
reported in the press that a
madman had vowed to wreak havoc
throughout the North by putting poison in
the burgers sold outside football grounds. As
my friend Ed, a Hartlepool fan, mused: “He
really must be mad if he thinks he can make
them any more poisonous than they already
are.”
Ed said this while munching on a double
cheeseburger he’d bought from a van parked
round the corner from the Millhouse Stand
at Victoria Park.
“If you can survive this, you can survive
anything,” he said wiping ooze from his chin.
“I reckon I’ve built up such an immunity
over the years I could probably get through a
nuclear attack.”
The Poolie burgers were by no means
the most lethal food sold outside football
grounds in those days. That disreputable
honour went to the pies on offer from a van
parked near Oxford United’s old Manor
Ground one midweek night when Boro
played there back in the ‘90s.
Heated in a microwave from frozen, the
pies managed to be freezing cold on the
outside and boiling hot in the middle. It
was like a savoury Baked Alaska in reverse.
Though not much like one, admittedly.
To make things worse, when you bit
into them they sent out a molten spume of
greenish gravy that looked like something a
startled octopus might shoot in the eye of a
predatory dogfish.
Such encounters as these over the years
had made me a tad suspicious of food
vans, though I knew there were good ones
that served palatable food. Back when
I was at catering college, I’d spent one
summer serving top class nosh from a silver
American caravan on a Pinewood film
set. Hollywood stars just could not have
tolerated a greasy bacon butty.
An eye for a pie - Teessiders Neil and Julie Fletcher, of award-winning Pie Jackers,
home make a scrumptious steak and ale pie. Pic by Stuart Boulton.
Aside from that though, I’d found that the
food served from vans was nothing to write
home about. Well, not unless your spouse
happened to be a health inspector anyway.
Lately though, I’ve had my opinion
changed.
The revelation came at a craft ale festival
on Tyneside when I stumbled across
Parmstar (quite literally – it was late in the
evening), John Coulson and Lisa Cheung’s
Seamer-based business.
John and Lisa not only sell a top-notc h
version of the Teesside classic, the Parmo,
in a home-made brioche bun, but also do its
Aussie equivalent, the Parma, which comes
with a slice of ham, rich tomato sauce and a
mixture of white cheese melted on the top.
On a cold November night in the North-
East the latter went down even better than it
would have on Bondi Beach.
Parmstar are not alone in providing
gastro-portable grub to Teesside and beyond.
Since then I’ve also enjoyed the sizzling,
crispy thin Neapolitan pizzas that Rocket
Pizza serve fresh out of a food-fired oven in a
very lovely 1970s Citroen van, and home-
made Three Brothers steak and ale pie, piping
hot, with mash, mushy peas and onion gravy
from the award-winning Pie Jackers.
I can honestly say I haven’t enjoyed food
bought from a cart this much since dear old
ruby-cheeked Mr Bowers used to bring fresh
fish on a horse-drawn wagon all the way
from Whitby to Great Ayton back in the ‘70s
(I suspect that nowadays health and safety
overlords might have had something to say
about the food hygiene of that particular
enterprise).
Sadly, none of these fine vendors pitch up
outside football grounds, but you can catch
up with them at Teesside’s excellent farmers’
markets. The only bad thing about any of
them is that – unlike Mr Bowers - they don’t
deliver to your door.
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