Mammary vegan revisionism

As he prepares to return to hexagonal climes, the human has been getting all wistful about the many fine friends and kitchens he's leaving behind and has been feeling the urge to revisit past accidental triumphs. Small blessings, I suppose -- he may still read books about molecular gastronomy on the loo while nobody's looking, but at last count still had two hands and ten digits.

He always insists on changing something, however, and this time contrived to do it by inviting two of the loveliest vegan acquaintances for a pie based not on beef and guinness but on mushrooms and home-brewed stout.

Some things remain the same, however, as the basic form of the dish:

Puffs into this:

Broader and not quite as pointy as the original, perhaps, but there's always room to jazz things up a bit:

I, on the other hand, would rather pick on creatures my own size -- which the human has been telling anyone who will listen cost him precisely $1.55, patiently measured out by a patient market trader far too young to be viewing the finished product.

As the hound has become accustomed to hearing before being given his pellets to disdain, bon appetit!