Pipped at the post . . . contestants pace themselves in Young's Cherry Pie Eating Competition.Credit: Holly Bradford
Bernard O'Shea is in endurance training for Young's famous festival next weekend.
My debut in the third annual international Cherry Pie Eating Competition was sensational enough, I am sure, to impress even the most crusty of national selectors.
I was in top form. I had practised assiduously for months, sneaking to the canteen at work for a pie whenever my boss wasn't looking. My PB (that's a personal best, for non-sporty types) was nine pies in seven minutes. But those were meat pies, smothered in tomato sauce. Now it was time for dessert. Bring on the cherry pies.
The contest is a highlight of the three-day National Cherry Festival at Young, in the state's central west, and it attracts the cream of international talent. A previous year's winner, Tynan from Canada, was back (as with Brazilian football stars, we giants of the cherry pie-eating world are known by our first names - my fans call me Bernardinho) and there were contestants from Russia, Japan, South Korea and Vietnam as well as the Australian men's and women's teams - nicknamed the Wannapies and the Cherrubs, respectively.
Young is the cherry capital of Australia. You can go to the orchards and pick your own fruit if you want. But, being the athletic type, I'd much rather someone else pick them, remove the pips, bake a pie and place it in front of me. That way my body conserves vital energy while my jaws get a good workout.
The secret to winning the pie contest, Tynan told me as I was warming up, masticating a thick piece of chewing gum to get a steady rhythm going, is to win your three-minute heat by the narrowest of margins so as to leave as much room as possible in your stomach for the final. He said he'd had to eat four pies in his heat and four in the final to win. This year he was hoping just five or six pies would be enough to do it.
"Yeah, our sport requires a lot of self-discipline," I said, nodding sagely, although personally I would rather eat eight pies than six. "Thanks for the mentoring, champ."
Luckily, I was given a favourable draw. In my heat were three skeletal fruit-pickers-cum-tourists from Japan, who looked as though they would struggle to slurp a slice of sushi, and an equally skinny woman from Russia. The most likely threat would come from Freddy, a pimply Australian teenager who looked to be familiar with fast-food culture. The local bookmakers, impressed by the obvious pie-carrying potential of my bulging stomach, marked me as the hot favourite to win the heat.
On your marks, get set, go! The pies were put in front of us. "What, no cream or ice-cream to go with it?" I asked, aghast. "Not even a dollop of mascarpone?"
"Hurry up and eat," my manager-trainer yelled crossly. "Concentrate!"
It was 1pm, I had purposely skipped breakfast (such self-discipline!), I was starving. I got stuck in. Fast-Food Freddy was seated immediately to my left and I monitored his progress out of the corner of my eye, matching him mouthful for mouthful. As we got going on our second pie, he began to wilt.
A quick glance at the others on my right revealed they were struggling too. Their 300-gram pies were crumbling and breaking into bits, they were making an awful mess and were losing control. I knew then I could win it in a canter.
By the time I demolished pie No. 2 there were about 20 seconds to spare. I took a couple of nibbles of my third pie then, remembering what Tynan had said about pacing yourself, put it down, keeping it for my manager, a cheapskate who will devour leftovers.
What I hadn't counted on was Olga, the Russian at the far right end of the table. It was her birthday and this girl was determined to have her cake and eat it. In those final seconds, while I was playing to the crowd, winking triumphantly at them and licking my fingers so that they would be clean when I had to sign autographs, Olga finished her second pie and took a huge bite of her third. Then the bell went. Time up.
The master of ceremonies, Milo the Clown, couldn't decide the winner. He summoned the judges to the table. Tooth marks were examined, bite sizes compared. After much debate, Olga was declared the winner. Aaargh! I had been cherry-pipped at the post.
My manager was furious. He wanted to lodge an official protest, mumbling something about East European athletes on performance-enhancing substances, but I would have none of it. I had been beaten fair and square. There was a shock too, in a later heat, when Tynan was knocked out by Terry, a local who was nicknamed the Canape King because of the amount of food he scoffed at parties. Fittingly, the King went on to win the title.
Some people say that if you're going to visit country towns, you should do so on quiet weekends, not when a festival is on and it's crowded. Probably you should do both but if you're going to do it just once, I lean towards the more festive side. Go join the party.
Compared with battling through the million-plus crowd that assembles for the New Year's Eve fireworks in Sydney, for example, mingling with 20,000 people at a country fair is a breeze.
The National Cherry Festival is as good as any. Young's takes place next weekend. There's a festival ball and fireworks, street parade, Celtic tattoo, highland dancing competition, bands, wine tasting, orchard tours and heaps of fringe events. I'll be back for the next one, to have another bite at the cherry. Might even enter the pip-spit contest. And if I see that Olga from the Volga, I'll make sure she gets her just ... desserts.
FAST FACTS
Getting there
Young is 375 kilometres (4½ hours' drive) south-west of Sydney via the Hume Highway and Lachlan Valley Way.
While there
The National Cherry Festival is on December 2-4. My motivational motto is: "Just chew it." Head to the ample tearooms at Wilders Bakery, Boorowa Street, Young. Wilders will bake about 1500 cherry pies for next weekend's festival, one-third of which will be used in the pie-eating competition, which starts at 1pm on Saturday in Anderson Park.
In this sport, it's important to drink a lot of fluid. The Wine Expo, held at the Young Visitor Information Centre at 5-8pm on Saturday, is a good place to correct any liquid imbalances. For $10 you can sample the local Hilltops wines, so called because altitude and weather combine to provide excellent ripening condition; see hilltops.com.au. The visitor centre is in the historic railway station building adjoining Anderson Park.
Foodies should check out the Young and District Farmers' Market (motto: "Just grew it"), at 7am-noon on Saturday. Other festival events that day include the street parade at 4pm and the Celtic Tattoo at 6pm. One of the highlights on the Sunday is the Cherry Pit Spit Competition, from 11am. Best wear a helmet for that one.
In its younger days, Young used to be called Lambing Flat, scene of the Lambing Flat Riots of 1861, when gold prospectors of European descent clashed violently with their Chinese counterparts. The Lambing Flat Folk Museum, in Campbell Street, tells the story.
Staying there
Accommodation in Young during the cherry festival gets booked out well in advance, so barring last-minute cancellations your best bet next weekend will be in surrounding towns such as Boorowa and Harden, or further afield at Yass, Cowra, Cootamundra and Temora (see stayz.com.au for self-contained places).
More information
The cherry-picking season extends until late December and other stone fruits can be picked until March. Phone the Young Visitor Information Centre on 6382 3394; see visityoung.com.au.
Sign up for the Traveller Deals newsletter
Get exclusive travel deals delivered straight to your inbox. Sign up now.