Balti Pie and Chips

The Culinary Car Crash You Can't Look Away From

Balti Pie and Chips. Three words that, together, spell out either a late-night epiphany or a terrible mistake, depending on how you feel about your arteries. Forget those kitschy French pastries or the avocado toast that’s forced millennials to rent instead of own—the Balti Pie and Chips is Britain’s love letter to culinary overkill. If you're easily offended by cholesterol levels, this is your safe word: stop reading. Everyone else, fasten your seatbelts (and maybe your trousers).

The Ingredients List (Or: The Shopping Trip of Shame)

Before you kick off, assemble the following ingredients. If you’re missing anything, just use sarcasm. It’s calorie-free.

For the Pie:

• 2 ready-made shortcrust pastry sheets (because who actually enjoys making pastry?)
• 350g cooked balti chicken (if you find a vegetarian balti chicken, you probably also believe in unicorns)
• 1 medium onion, finely chopped (for tears, real or otherwise)
• 2 tablespoons balti curry paste
• 150ml chicken stock (stock cubes: because authenticity is overrated)
• 1 tablespoon tomato paste
• 70ml cream (optional, like sobriety at 3am)
• 1 egg, beaten, for glaze
• Salt and pepper, to taste (up to you if your tastebuds are still working)

For the Chips:

• 4 large potatoes (Maris Piper, or whatever's on sale)
• Vegetable oil for frying
• Salt, to serve

Your Step-by-Step Descent into Madness

1. Pie Filling: The Only Curry You’ll Ever Eat With a Fork

• Heat a splash of oil in a pan; fry the onions until golden, or until you can’t tell if it’s the onions or your will to live.
• Add balti paste and tomato paste, cooking for 2 minutes or until your sinuses clear.
• Stir in chicken, stock, and cream. Simmer for 10 minutes, or until you forget why you started.
• Season with salt and pepper. Remove from heat and let cool. Trust me, nobody likes an exploding pie.

2. Pastry Case: Embracing Shortcuts

• Roll out one pastry sheet to fit a pie dish. Press it in, pretending it was made from scratch.
• Spoon in the cooled balti filling. Top with the second pastry sheet, trim, and crimp so it looks at least semi-professional.
• Brush with beaten egg. This gloss says, “I tried.”
• Bake at 200°C (392°F for the rebels) for 30 minutes or until golden brown, which in some ovens means burnt.

3. Chips: The Comfort Blanket of British Cuisine

• Peel and cut potatoes into chips, about as thick as your patience.
• Soak in cold water for 30 minutes. Maybe reflect on life.
• Dry thoroughly, heat oil to 180°C, and fry in small batches until golden and crisp. Drain on paper towels and sprinkle salt with the flourish of a 5-star chef, or a tired parent.

Tips & Variations: Because Choices Matter (Apparently)

• Make it vegetarian: Substitute the chicken for chickpeas. Watch meat-eaters weep gently.
• Spice levels: Add chili flakes if your idea of self-care is voluntary pain.
• No deep fryer? Bake chips in the oven. Sure, let’s pretend they’re still chips.
• Want to impress (scare) your friends? Serve with a side of irony and a pint of lukewarm lager.

Nutrition Information: Just Don’t Tell Your Doctor

Here’s a rough rundown (accuracy not guaranteed—like a politician’s promise):

Component	Calories	Fat (g)	Carbs (g)	Salt (mg)
Pie Slice	400	18	40	1000
Chips (100g)	320	15	45	350
Emotional Guilt	Varies	Infinite	None	High

Let’s be honest, you weren’t making this for the nutrients.

Now What?

• Serve piping hot, with chips on the side and a side serving of remorse.
• Post a brag (or confession) pic to social media. Use #BaltiPieAndChips to find your tribe—or get blocked by your GP.

Bon appétit, or as we say in Britain: Good luck, you’re going to need it!