There’s nothing Cornish about a pasty with minced beef or – heaven forbid – peas and carrots, according to the purists. Bobby’s Bakery is luring Brits with its real-deal Cornish pasties, a rare sight in Melbourne.
If you’ve ever had a Cornish pasty in Melbourne, chances are it wasn’t a proper one. But the real-deal became easier to find last November when Bobby’s Bakery opened in North Melbourne.
Run by the British-born Sam Iversen, whose mum is from Cornwall, it’s one of the few bakeries in Victoria obeying the letter of the law in its pasty production. That law is laid down by the Cornish Pasty Association, which was formed in 2002 “to champion and protect the authenticity and distinctiveness of the genuine Cornish pasty”.
Iversen, a proud purist, taught himself to bake them using the Association’s recipe. “I wanted them to be as close as possible to what I was having in Cornwall,” he says.
The pasty originated about 700 years ago in England before evolving into the crimp-edged Cornish pasty popular in the country’s south-west that was later taken around the world by emigrating miners. Today in the UK, a geographical indication (or GI) stops imposter pasties not made in accordance with strict stipulations – such as lard in the pastry and cubed beef skirt in the filling – being passed off as the real deal outside of Cornwall.
But that legal protection doesn’t apply in Australia, where bakeries are free to slap the name on any old pasty. It has led to a lot of bastardisation, says leading baker Michael James, who grew up in Cornwall before settling in Melbourne, co-founding the respected Tivoli Road Bakery, which he sold in 2018.
“No one really does [Cornish pasties] right, here,” he says.
“There’s lots of mince, which is wrong. And peas and carrots, which aren’t right either.”
In his Tivoli Road Bakery days, James made Cornish pasties the old-fashioned way. He approved of those that Meatsmith, Andrew McConnell’s butcher shop, used to sell. And beyond city limits, Gippsland bakery Salt Organics also does things traditionally.
At Iversen’s Dryburgh Street bakery, the pasty’s popularity speaks for itself.
“Oh, Jesus,” Iversen says out of nowhere on a recent Friday, noticing that a full tray of pasties is suddenly empty. “Someone’s just bought 12 of them. We need to bake some more!
“We see a few people doing that,” he adds. “They come in, buy a shitload and bring them to their friends … Brits get super excited to get a pasty like they’d get back home.”
One of those people is Alex Maddern, a Cornwall native who now lives in the Dandenong Ranges, from where he’s travelled several times to secure the (baked) goods from Bobby’s. He buys not only for himself, but for neighbours too, who leave him with orders.
“They’re from a little-known part of the world. I just wanted to give them a bit of respect.”
Baker Sam Iversen of Bobby’s Bakery
Maddern has long been frustrated by the lack of true-to-tradition Cornish pasties in Australia. But the Bobby’s version hooked him instantly. “It was absolutely perfect,” he says. “It’s the best I’ve had outside Cornwall.”
The secret is animal fat. At first, Iversen used lard that he rendered himself. But that was too laborious, so he traded it for beef suet (the fat from around the cow’s kidneys and loins), minced by a local butcher.
“Unlike a lot of flaky or puff pastries that you see for pies and sausage rolls, you actually mix the dough quite a lot because you need the elasticity to be able to crimp it up and have it stay without tearing,” says Iversen. “It’s more a dough than a pastry.”
The thick, burnished-bottomed pastry is certainly sturdy, but a pleasant flake factor remains, even on the crimp. And the flavour? Deeply savoury and satisfyingly salty.
James knows not to judge a book by its cover, though. “I’ve seen some good-looking [pasties] that have horrible, mushy insides,” he says. “I’m looking for some juiciness – some gravy – from the beef, texture from the veggies and a bit of spice from the pepper.”
Iversen’s Cornish pasty ticks all those boxes. The filling starts with high-quality beef skirt, cubed and generously seasoned with salt and black pepper. Vegetable-wise, Iversen uses only potato, swede and onion – a Cornish Pasty Association requirement. Veg and beef hit the pastry raw, with a knob of butter. You want “almost a pressure-cooker situation” in the oven, says James.
Done right, Cornish pasties are downright delicious, but they’ve struggled to crack the mainstream. “Maybe people don’t get them because there’s not much around, or it’s not the right kind of weather for it [in Australia],” says James.
But could Bobby’s, where in just a few months they’ve become an unlikely signature, turn the tide?
“Who knows, it could be the next crazy trend,” says Maddern.
“I was legit worried when we opened,” Iversen says. “I didn’t want to call them ‘Cornish’ pasties because I thought I’d get in trouble … and I didn’t know how they would go.”
But going back to his roots – and respecting those of the humble Cornish pasty – is paying off.
“They’re from a little-known part of the world,” Iversen says. “I just wanted to give them a bit of respect.”
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