Living in a family of engineers and general nerds, Pi Day is one of those things that requires remarking upon. In the past I have used this occasion to share the recipe for some historical (and hysterical) pies. But this year, truth is, I was stumped. I tried out several ideas and all of them dead-ended.

So I did one of those things that occasionally inspires me. I ran a couple of fun google searches for Dragon Pie. And what came up led me to this little scene, between Percival the puck and his friend Maud, whom some of you met in the Dragon Dreams anthology.

Dragon Pie

Sweeping up was not usually the part of the day people looked forward to, but—not for the first time in her life—Maud Garston was content to be different. In the tiny village of Mordiford, it took little to earn that distinction. Being a twin would have been enough. But running the local dry goods shop with her twin brother, Mattias, only added to her notoriety.

Then there was the dragon. The Mordiford Dragon. Carrying both the names of the girl who cared for the dragon and the family credited with slaying it, someone always had something clever—at least in their own minds—to say on the matter. 

Though it still bothered her, she had grown more adept at handling the remarks. A quick gesture toward the painting on the shop wall, a copy of the dragon’s painting that decorated the nearby Holy Rood church, and the delivery of one of three or four well-rehearsed remarks distracted all but the most determined from talking about that dragon.

As for the other ones, only a very limited circle knew enough about them to talk.

“There, all done now. Time to visit the baker.” She tucked the broom behind the shop door and slipped off her work apron.

Though not large, the shop carried nearly all the dry goods the little village wanted, and those they did not carry, they could get, given a bit of time and a customer willing to pay. For the rest, the shelves that neatly lined the walls, with tidy crates and barrels tucked underneath, met their wants and needs.

“The baker? But you never visit the baker on Wednesday. You do that on Saturdays, on your way back from the market.” The voice came from the backroom, behind the curtain that divided it from the main floor of the shop. That probably meant he was in trouble again.

She sighed and hurried past the rough sack cloth curtain. “Percival, where are you? Percival?”

Scuffling of small taloned feet on the hard dirt floor. Then silence.

She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted. “Per-ci-val! Come out here right now, you little scamp. What have you gotten into this time?”

“Nothing, nothing at all.” The gravelly, small voice coming from near the floor was anything but innocent.

She should have known. Percival was in the corner, where the two sets of shelves did not quite meet, leaving a dark, narrow cubby for him to duck into. She dropped to hands and knees—yes, there he was, a pudgy, rusty-brown little puck with a freshly washed handkerchief tangled around his wing nubs. What an undignified state for a little dragon.

At least the handkerchief was one of theirs, not stolen from the neighbors for a change. “Come out of there, now. Really? Why must we replay this every time the laundry is washed?”

“Because I am a puck, and I hoard, and I cannot help it. You know that very well. There is nothing like freshly washed linen.” He turned to press his snout against the handkerchief in his wing nubs.

“Let me see that.” She snatched the handkerchief and inspected it carefully for a green ‘X’ sewn into the corner. “At least is one we got for you for this purpose. Go on and enjoy it. I will be back soon—“

He scrabbled to stand in front of her. “Why are you going to the baker’s?”

“To pick up a special pie for dinner tonight. Mattias is coming home this evening.”

“Where has he been?”

“Have you already forgotten? Mr. Hereford of Sufton Court, you remember Mordiford’s Keeper? He had Mattias pick up an order of goods for him while he was picking up our own.”

“Well, it was laundry day, surely that justifies my lapse in memory.” Percival wrestled the handkerchief back into place along his back.

“Good thing I have not forgotten. Be a good little fellow and wait for me here whilst I pick up the pie for dinner.”

He licked his lips, a gobbet of drool forming at the corner of his toothy mouth. “What sort of pie is it?”

“Very special one. One I have never made before.”

“But how can you know if it is good if you have not eaten it before.”

“I did not say we had not eaten it. When we dined with Sufton House, we ate it then and it was quite delightful.” She hung her apron on the hook near the curtain in the backroom.

“Can I have some to then?” Percival danced on his toes. “I like to eat.”

“Yes, we are well aware of that. I do not think you will want any of this, though. It is not for dragons.”

“Why? Why is it not for dragons? If you like it, I am sure I would like it very well indeed.” He raised up on his back legs, like a fat little pug begging for treats.

“I have prepared a dragon pie. Now be a good lad—“

“A dragon pie?” He squealed and threw himself on his back, legs writhing in the air. “No! How could you!”

“Quite easily. It is very delicious.”

“A dragon pie! I am horrified. Mortified! Terrified! A dragon pie!” He flipped over on his feet and scratched at the floor. “You a member of the Blue Order—I thought that was something meaningful to you. I thought that meant you were to protect dragons. But now this?”

“Calm yourself Percival. Take a deep breath, it is not so terrible a thing as you imagine.”

“A dragon pie is not terrible? Perhaps not to you. But how would you like it if … if … Mortiford were to make a Mattias pie! Would you like it then?”

“Do not be ridiculous Percy. Just listen to me a moment—“

“Listen to what, to a tale of how one of my kind ended like a line in a nursery rhyme ‘four a twenty black birds baked in a pie’? No, no, no! I do not want to know the sordid details.” His tail lashed, stirring up dust on the floor. “It isn’t Grail, though, tell me it isn’t Grail in that pie.”

“I would not put your lady love in a pie.”

“Well that is something to be thankful for. But who then, who have you made into a pie? Or wait, perhaps, I do not want to know. But then again, yes, yes I do. For I shall wonder whenever I cannot find one of the forest dragons if they are the one that I should be mourning for, having been fated for your supper table.”

“Do stop carrying on and listen—“

“To you, the murder of the cold-blooded? I am not even sure I can continue to be your Friend—”

She scooped up Percy and held him at eye level, gazing intently into his eyes while he wriggled to get away. “You will do me the courtesy of listening to me now, do you understand?” She shook him slightly for emphasis.

Percy snorted and lashed his tail.

“You could have saved yourself a great deal of bother if you had only listened to me. Yes, the baker has made me a dragon pie—a dragon bean pie, you silly creature. There are no dragons in that pie, only red dragon beans, a gift from Sufton Court—do you remember. He presented you with that lovely silk swatch at the same time.”

“Those round red things, those were beans? For eating?” Percy stopped moving and stared into her eyes.

“Yes, you silly little creature, that is what one usually does with beans—not dragons! And since there is no more money for meat until Mattias returns, I thought to use the beans in a pie for dinner.”

“Oh, you could have told me. You could have simply called it bean pie, or even dragon bean pie, and saved us all this misunderstanding.” He wriggled himself free of her grasp and scuttled back into the cubby between the shelves. “Go on, get your pie. I shall wait for you here and enjoy my clean laundry.”

“As you will.” She chuckled as she fetched her shawl. Only Percival could have imagined her putting a dragon in a pie. “And remember, one never puts dragons in a pie, they are always best roasted.”

Percy growled softly.

Perhaps she best take her laundry in before seeing the baker.

In case you’d like to make your own Dragon Pie, here’s a recipe.

Red Dragon Pie

from Sarah Brown’s Vegetarian Kitchen (1984), currently out of print

Serves 4

Ingredients

4 oz aduki beans (also known as red dragon beans), steeped in boiling water for an hour then cooked until soft. (Or a 15 oz can aduki beans, drained)

1 C cooked rice

1 tbsp oil

1 onion, peeled and finely chopped

8 oz carrots, diced

2 tbsp tomato puree

2 tbsp soy sauce

1 tsp mixed herbs

1 cup of vegetable stock or the reserved liquid from the cooked aduki beans

Salt and pepper

1 lb potatoes, peeled and chopped

2T butter/ spread

Method

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Fry the onion f in the oil for 5 minutes. Add the carrots and cook for 2-3 minutes. Add the cooked beans and rice. Mix the soy sauce, tomato puree and herbs with the stock, then pour over the beans and vegetables. Season to taste, adding a little more liquid if necessary. Transfer to a greased 2 qt casserole dish.

Meanwhile, boil the potatoes until cooked and mash with the butter. Season well and top your bean mixture. Bake in the oven for around 40 minutes until the top has browned.