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Meat Pie Audit, Bendigo (2026)

We value integrity, each pie receives a categorised score out of 10.

02/10/2025

Garland’s Bakery, Kangaroo Flat.

A suburb that boldly answers the question, “What if we named a town after roadkill?” It’s neither flat nor crawling with kangaroos, but it does boast a Bunnings that moonlights as both a cultural hub and a main tourist attraction. Unfortunately the local footy team couldn’t win a raffle, but luckily for the diehard supporters Garland’s Bakery keeps spirits (and cholesterol) high.

Pastry: Almost smug; tall, handsome, and deep enough to suggest substance, yet still graciously portable in one hand. The lid was golden, flaky, and sprinkled with a proud dusting of pepper granules that made it look like it had been seasoned by someone who both cared and had opposable thumbs.

Filing: The gravy found that rare middle ground, sturdy enough to cling, but not so thick could grout a bathroom with it. A couple of tender steak pieces bobbed about, giving the sense the cow had signed off on the arrangement without complaint. The pepper was a sly poke in the ribs, playful rather than punitive, but not so much that you start drafting your will mid-bite.

Temperature: Squarely in that Goldilocks zone: hot enough to feel fresh, but not so volcanic that you’d need skin grafts on your upper palate.

Price: $6.50

Overall: A pie of stature. A pie of substance. And frankly, a pie that’d look you dead in the eye and say, “Go on, mate, you won’t regret it.”

Score: 8/10

11/07/2025

Gaffney’s Bakery, Heathcote

Beef and Shiraz Pie

Heathcote is known for its bold Shiraz, charming country vibes, and apparently, pies that deserve their own public holiday.

Pastry: Promising start. The base was solid — like the foundations of a government promise… mostly there, but a little underdone where it counts. To be fair, I did show up early, probably before the pie had time to contemplate its full potential in the oven. A dusting of pepper on the lid added a touch of class, like a pie wearing a bowler hat.

Filling: At first, “chunky steak” felt like a bold lie. Turns out, the beef was just playing elite-level hide and seek. When it finally appeared, it was tender, juicy, and cooked like it had something to prove. No dryness, no regrets — just stealthy, delicious chunks of cow doing God’s work. The gravy? Less a sauce, more a full-bodied experience. Made with local Heathcote Shiraz, the kind that slaps you lovingly with bold plum, black pepper, and a whisper of “don’t make any big decisions after this”. Seasoned like it was studied under a French grandmother, it clung to the beef like it had secrets.

Temperature: Hot enough to keep things interesting, but not hot enough to cause legal action. Nailed it.

Price: $7.50 — rawdogged it, no sauce. Worth every unsauced cent.

Overall: Gaffney’s Bakery is the crown jewel of Heathcote — if the crown were made of buttery pastry and filled with slow-cooked beef and wine. Honestly, if I could pour this pie into a glass and sip it by the fire, I would. Bloody delicious, and slightly fancy for something inside a pastry.

Score: 9/10

24/06/2025

Rolling into North End Bakehouse late in the afternoon, I didn’t expect much to be left in the hotbox—but I figured I’d roll the dice. My dreams of pastry glory were fading fast, but then, through the fluorescent haze, I spotted it. A golden dome glistening like a $2 coin in a Centrelink carpark. It was calling to me. Or possibly judging me. Hard to say.

Named after the true Pie Minister - Marty Godfrey - this creation is less baked good, more an edible tribute. A lamb souvlaki pie that dares to ask: “What if your Friday night kebab put on a suit and ran for local parliament?”

Marty’s Lamb Souvlaki

Pastry: Flaky, golden and confident. The kind of crust that knows it’s better than you. The lid was dusted with seasoning like it had just returned from Santorini with stories it couldn’t legally share.

Filling: Generous. It Chunks of lamb so tender I briefly considered apologising for eating them. Gently seasoned—maybe a little too gently. Like it was worried it might offend someone. The thick sauce was doing its best impression of a Greek holiday. Garlic, herbs, onion, and some kind of tangy zing (lemon? yoghurt? divine intervention?). Basically, it came together like the modern day Greek Gods, Kouta and Christou!

Temperature: Bang on. Sat out the front and smashed it like it owed me money.

Price: $7.80. Less than a pint, and twice as likely to restore your faith in humanity.

Overall: Would I recommend it? Yes. Emphatically. But not before I’ve stockpiled a few in case word gets out. A bit more signature souva seasoning wouldn’t hurt, but even as is, it’s dangerously close to being classified as a cultural experience. North End Bakehouse has form, and if this is the benchmark, I’m already halfway through planning my next visit.

One question lingered: why doesn’t the so-called Royal Pieness, Pyney, have a pie named in his honour?

Score: 8/10

Disclaimer: If the pie looks underfilled in the photos, that’s on me. My jaw operates with the subtlety of a circular saw.

11/06/2025

Gundagai Bakery - Pepper (mi)Steak

Nearly four years ago to the day, while annihilating a pie at the now-defunct Gundy Pie Cafe (gone too soon), the Meat Pie Audit was born. What started as a p**s stop in Gundagai and a casual lunchtime critique between mates quickly escalated into a full-blown mission: to identify, catalogue, and rank our encounters in the ongoing hunt for the perfect meat bag.

Pastry: They say don’t judge a book by its cover — turns out pies are the same. Looked solid, but collapsed faster than a Peter Dutton election campaign. Flaky in all the wrong ways.

Filling: The ‘steak’ was more of a rumour than an ingredient. The promised pepper flavour was harder to find than the Beaumont children. With all the flavour of wet cardboard, eating it felt less like lunch and more like punishment for crimes I don’t remember committing.

Temperature: The shining light in a s**t show. Luckily, considering my hands were covered in the contents.

Price: $5.80

Overall: After hours of soul-searching via the Hume, I pulled into town with the enthusiasm of a clipboard-wielding volunteer — hungry, hopeful, and dangerously optimistic. I was ready to wrap my laughing gear around a pie. Instead, I was served heartbreak in pastry form. One can only hope the local tourist attraction isn’t hiding one of these horrors in his tucker box.
Back on the road, with Shania Twain playing through the static, I reflected on the experience. Let’s just say: that don’t impress me much.

Score: 2/10

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