Review: Mad O'Rourkes Pie Factory, Tipton

When it comes to food reviews, my colleagues know their onions.

And their shallots. And their bok choy and sea kale come to think of it.

You will have noticed on these reviews words such as 'umami', 'unctuous' and 'infusion'.

Both bosslady Emily and wildcard writer Andy are fully-fledged foodies. Em's been to the best restaurant in the world Noma, where they serve live shrimp and ants, and Andy's bessie mates with an entire kitchen full of celebrity chefs.

When it comes to things like the contents of the bread basket and the al dente-ness (is that a word? Whatevs, it is now) of their fettuccine, they are meticulous.

However, I've found a chink in the armour, Emily's never had a pie.

I'm sure Andy's had one but he's on holiday this week so he doesn't count.

Anyways, yes, it's true, Emily Bridgewater has never had a pie. Unbelievable isn't it? And she calls herself a foodie?!

I therefore took it upon myself to educate her in the ways of the pie. I (selflessly) volunteered to visit Pie Mecca, Mad O'Rourkes in Tipton, and come back with a shiny review so she can start getting to grips with the wonder that is pastry, meat and gravy.

Emily, this one's for you...

I visited Mad O'Rourkes on the perfect day: It was a Friday night after a loooong week at work and it was cold, blustery and blowing a gale. I needed cheering up and warming up.

Exceptional pie conditions, I think you'll agree.

My companion for the night was Black Country Cousin, an all-drinking, all-smoking, tattooed Willenhall wench. This girl knows her steak from her kidney and has a fervent dislike for all things salad.

Exceptional pie company, it has to be said.

We'd booked ahead, knowing how busy and bustling it can get, and, sure enough, it was lively and jam-packed from the moment we walked through the door.

Anyone who's ever been to the Pie Factory already knows of the Black Country beauty that lies beyond the threshold.

If you haven't, well, it's hard to explain.

Imagine the most Black Country place on earth.

Imagine Steve Bull's living room.

Yep, you've got it.

Old wooden tables, a heaving bar laden with Lump Hammer and sign after sign after sign on the walls, proclaiming things like 'Mad O'Rourkes – Best Tarts in Tipton' and 'Pies of Distinction since 1856'. Old, heavy kitchenware hangs from the ceiling and the main room is lined with a rather fetching row of pig heads. Ceramic, you'll be pleased to know.

We were led to our table, which was being kept by a handy 'Get Lost...I'm Reserved' sign, and began the difficult process of choosing from the menu.

Ah, yes. That famous menu with its infamous entry, 'the Faggot Pie (aka Barrymore Pie)'. If you find this sort of thing uncomfortable, Mad O'Rourkes isn't for you. This is a place were the notions of political correctness, healthy living and trendiness simply fail to exist.

We, however, were undeterred. In fact, Black Country Cousin just let out a loff and got straight back down to business.

Due to the heaving, man-sized portions of the mains, it always amazes me that there are actually both starters and desserts on the menu.

But if you're feeling brave you can indeed tuck into nachos, mushroom melts and black pudding potato cakes to start. Dessert-wise, sticky toffee pudding, Eton mess and bread and butter pud are all on offer.

I'd love to be able to tell you what they're like but I've never been able to even contemplate a starter or dessert at Mad O'Rourkes and this visit was no exception. Soz.

And so the main event.

The most headline-grabbing, belly-bosting item on the menu is the 'world-famous' Desperate Dan Cow Pie, a 4lb monster of a meal completely encased in pastry and topped with two pastry horns.

It's steak and kidney and a whole load of seasonal veg slow cooked in a deep, thick gravy.

It's such a colossus, you get a certificate if you finish it. Many have tried and many have failed.

I'm pleased to report however Daddy Joyce once finished this Man V Food challenge and said certificate now takes pride of place at home. It was a proud day for our family.

Other pies include steak and Stilton, minted lamb, cottage pie and the 'Andy Murray' curry pie, topped with a naan bread. Genius is the word you're looking for here.

There's also burgers, sharing platters and mixed grills. The king of the grills is Mick's Grill, Navvy's Delight, a £10.99 freak of nature featuring rump steak, lamb chop, pork chop, gammon and sausage served with battered chips and topped with an egg. It's brought to your table on a shovel. Yes, really.

I considered Mick's Grill but honestly believed I may die of meat poisoning so went for the £8.99 Hen Pecked Pie instead.

This buttered chicken and mushroom delight is cooked in a butter and cream sauce, with hints of garlic and paprika. The whole thing's topped with puff pastry, which is flaky and crispy on top and then goes all gooey and melty underneath.

It was delicious. Plate-scraping, lip-licking, tummy-rubbing delicious.

The pies are served with a little frying basket filled with battered chips. Super salty and crisp on the outside, with loads of delicious little crunchy bits hiding in the bottom of the basket, they were absolutely perfect in mopping up the creamy sauce of the pie.

The only way they could be more Black Country is if they were orange. And served by Our Trace. Wearing a flat cap.

Black Country Cousin, or Helen as she's also known, went for 100% Bullocks Pie. Priced at £9.99, it's prime cuts of steak slowly cooked in Lump Hammer ale gravy. Again, it has a little puff pastry hat on top.

The verdict was 'outstanding', with the quality of the meat completely winning her over.

All too often, a steak and ale pie is ruined by a chewy bit of fat or piece of gristle but no such horrors lurk in a Mad O'Rourkes creation.

That's the thing you see: Don't let the pig heads and cheeky banter fool you, the Towler family, who own the Pie Factory, take their food very seriously.

Everything else may be a loff, but the quality of the ingredients, the grub coming out of that kitchen and the satisfaction of the customers most certainly are not.

Seasonality and locality are vital. In fact, there's a huge chalkboard in the main dining room –- not too far away from the Desperate Dan cut-out where you can pop your head through for a cheeky pic – detailing where everything comes from.

The potatoes are from Roberts Farm in Pattingham, the veg is fresh from Wolverhampton Market, the beef and pork come from Bridgnorth and the lamb also hails from Shropshire.

And the strawberries? Well, they're from Asda. The Tipton Asda mind, so they're still technically local.

Full-to-bursting and happy with our lot, myself and Helen enjoyed a few more glasses of plonk after our pie dishes had been cleared.

There's often live music at Mad O'Rourkes too and, sure enough, an Irish band set up on stage and started belting out the classics.

The music pretty much summed up our entire evening and the Pie Factory as a whole: happy, relaxed, good quality.

Yep, you can keep you gourmet dishes, celebrity chefs and upmarket (pretentious) ambiance, Mad O'Rourkes doesn't need any of it anyway. It's got heart, body and soul. It's got tradition and a sense of humour.

In a word, it's bostin. Ay it.

Elizabeth Joyce