Adelaide's 'pie floater' fights losing battle in fast food war

To the untrained eye, it looks disgusting: a soggy brown pie swimming in green mush, crowned by an unsightly slash of red ketchup. But in Adelaide, the "pie floater" is a culinary delicacy, a treat for shift-workers, taxi-drivers and late-night drunks.

The floater, a meat pie dumped upside-down in a bowl of thick pea soup, is an Adelaide institution, sold since the 1870s, originally from horse-drawn carts. But only two carts (now motorised) have survived, and their future is threatened, thanks to shifting tastes and competition from the likes of McDonald's.

One cart, which parks nightly outside the general post office in Adelaide's main square, is for sale, at an asking price much lower than the sum paid by its owner, Leon Chapman, nine years ago. "Times have changed," he said. "We used to be the only place in the city that served food after midnight. Now the hamburger joints and convenience stores are open 24 hours."

The origins of the pie floater are uncertain. Legend has it that the early carts, which baked their pies on the spot, also served a variety of soups from a simmering pot. No one knows how the first pie ended up in the pea soup. But links with English traditions such as mushy peas and pies served with jellied eels are widely acknowledged.

For young Adelaidians, eating one's first pie floater - often while standing on a milk crate to reach the counter - is a rite of passage. Those who seek their fortune elsewhere miss this gastronomic experience, and head to the carts for a quick fix as soon as they return home. Competitions have been staged, with the maximum number of pie floaters consumed at one sitting reportedly 15.

Locals extol the egalitarian ethos of the kerbside pie-cart, where police and office cleaners rub shoulders with politicians and theatregoers in formal wear. The first cart was licensed in 1871, and in the early 1900s there were nine operating in Adelaide.

Despite the proliferation of fast-food outlets, loyalty to the pie floater remains strong. "I've been eating them since 1958 and they haven't done me any harm," said Trevor Mulvihill, 62, propped against the counter of Mr Chapman's cart, tucking into a large bowlful. "It's like comfort food."

Rose John, Adelaide born and bred, said: "It started off as good, honest, working-class fare; it was the original fast food. I ate my first one years ago, when I was totally drunk, and found the combination of the peas, pie and ketchup worked a treat. It's a bit like a casserole, I suppose, with a singular taste sensation. Then there's the tradition involved. It's unique to Adelaide."

The pie floater's fame has spread far and wide, judging by the entries in Mr Chapman's visitors' book. "An experience worth travelling half-way around the world for," Andrew Curling, of Harare, Zimbabwe, wrote. "Left me floating on air," wrote Richard Brown, of Birmingham.

Celebrities, too, have made the pilgrimage; the comedian, Billy Connolly, the singer, Joe Cocker and the racing driver, Nigel Mansell, are high-profile fans of the floater.

In the era of the "six o'clock swill", when Australian pubs closed at 6pm and patrons downed several beers swiftly then staggered out, the pie floater was particularly popular. While the trend towards healthier eating has dented its appeal, its advocates insist it is a wholesome meal.

Mr Chapman sells up to 100 floaters a night, at $5 (about £2) apiece "including condiments". The soup is made to a recipe that involves soaking whole blue boiler peas overnight then adding salt and bicarbonate of soda.

Mr Chapman's cart has had only six owners since 1875, and is the only independent cart left; the other one is owned by a bakery company. And his advice to people who find the pie floater difficult to stomach? "Just close your eyes and taste it."