Childhood Tarts

My three children have been reared on tarts. In fact, there was never a time during their childhood when they didn’t beg for one or other of their favourites, or rail against the wholewheat crusted homity pies that I always baked the night before we set off for the Irish boat ferry every summer, knowing that their solidity and depth and substance would fill every hungry crevice on the journey and wouldn’t crumble or smash in the meanwhile. Ballasted with cheesy mashed potato, thyme and a slice of tomato, each pie appeared to weigh in the hand almost as much as a small child.