The word Parochial, according to both the oxford and Cambridge dictionaries, has two meanings. One referring to religion and the other referring to a narrow scope of interest, single mindedness if you will. In the scope of the last week, both globally and locally here in my home town the true meaning of parochialism feels ever present.

Like billions worldwide I sat up glued to the television enraptured by the pagentry and tradition of the royal funeral. The ceremony and customs observed by The Church of England in marking the passing of it’s traditional head and the British head of state was both majestic and humbling. Breathtaking voices of the combined choir soared into the very peaks of centuries old Westminster Abbey signalling the procession’s arrival into the historic entrance to the nave and it’s slow progress forth. Goosebumps rose on my skin, a lump in my throat swelled and I was transfixed. Centuries of traditional rites honouring the values, structure and history of the church marked each convention in observance of the passing of a sovereign and the accession of a successor. Not only was the occasion a momentous one in the life of the church but also one in the history of the United Kingdom. The sight of hundreds of thousands of British subjects and visitors lining the Mall adorned with union jacks fluttering in the breeze framing the massed military march escorting the Queen was a stirring one of nationalism and loyalty to crown and state, truly one of the most parochial and unifying events in modern history. It was awe inspiring to watch and humbling to feel a part of even as a home viewer. Regardless of your feelings on royalty, both historically and into the future, you can’t help but feel awed by the reverential parochial respect the British people held for their monarch and consequently the nation and sheer grandeur of the ceremony.

Now, I’m not a religious person but I do love tradition, loyalty and dedication. In a far lighter vain, in Melbourne this week we observe what is colloquially called a religion, Australian Rules Football and it’s Grand Final and similarly evoking a reverential type parochialism. Whilst only celebrated on a fraction of the scale of the pomp of the royal ceremonies and a far less sombre and significant occasion it’s one of great parochialism unifying the two tribes of supporters whose two teams will go into battle for the ultimate prize of their sport. Suburban football clubs will hold smaller events to join into the festivities, supporters will stop at nothing to get their hands on tickets to the game at the MCG, our colosseum of sorts holding 100,000 spectators and groups of families and friends will gather around televisions roaring with each triumph. It’s a brutal game, men going to war putting their bodies on the line with every turn of play, no padding or helmets just primal brute force in the pursuit of possession of the ball and ultimately a goal. And in the midst of combat a population come together with nothing else in focus but that one day and prize each driven by a parochial and unwavering loyalty to their team.

I love tradition, I love the rites and symbolism of occasions grand and small significant and festive. Rituals and customs are anchoring and unifying. Maybe that’s why in many ways parochialism in all it’s forms can be a positive. From the formalities and rituals of a religious parochialism and the unity and comfort that it’s familiarity offers it’s followers to the one eyed loyalty individuals feel in parochialisms around communities, sport and unifying events no matter how trivial in the grand scheme of the world they may seem.

We too love the football grand final period and enjoy our little traditions around the festival. Usually gathering with friends to cheer and lament the warring teams and raise a toast to the ultimate winner. It won’t surprise you that we’re particularly parochial about the food we celebrate the footy with. Every year, regardless of whatever I’m serving Sausage Rolls are compulsory. My family’s parochial love of the humble seemingly simple hot pastry is without peer. Like many such dishes everyone has their own bent on the party food classic. Mine started, rooted in a Donna Hay recipe from one of her earliest books and over the years has evolved to reflect our own tastes and preferences. Generally I use store bought pastry but occasionally I’ll feel like something a little extra special and make my own. If you’d like to try making them with homemade pastry this one is perfect for these. They’re always best served with tomato sauce (ketchup) but we also love them with this delicious chutney.

Ingredients:

500gm beef mince

500gm sausage mince

1 onion very finely diced

1 carrot peeled and grated

2 cups fresh breadcrumbs made old bread or 1 ½ c of dried bought crumbs

1 egg beaten

¼ c worcestshire sauce

2 tb tomato sauce/ketchup

4-5 sheets of butter puff pastry or one quantity of rough puff pastry

I egg extra for glazing

Method:

Preheat oven to 180 c, line two large baking trays with baking paper, set aside.

Combine all ingredients except pastry and extra egg in a large bowl. Using your hands mix all ingredients very well. You can also do this in a stand mixer using the paddle attachment.

Lay out pastry sheets and allow to thaw until still cold and firm but pliable. Cut each sheet in half length ways. Using a disposable piping bag end snipped to create a 2 cm wide opening pipe the meat mixture down the middle of each pastry stip creating a sausage shape and size similar to a bbq sausage the full length of the pastry. Brush pastry edge then roll up encasing meat in pastry. Cut the full length roll into four smaller rolls. Repeat with remaining ingredients until all the meat is used. Place on baking trays, brush with extra egg beaten with a splash of milk to glaze and sprinkle with sesame seeds. Bake for 30 minutes until golden brown.

Notes:

You can alter the mix of meat to as much as all sausage meat but not less than at least half sausage meat. This gives it a softer texture and loads of flavour.

Makes 40 snack sized rolls or 60 smaller canape sized rolls. If you’re unable to find sausage mince you can use BBQ style sausages in their casing and squeeze out the filling.