I told her about my new crust recipe, buttery, yet light and flaky, with a delicate crumble. So much fun to make, the old fashioned way, by hand. It’s no-fuss, needs only 1 hour to chill and, even better, no blind-baking. Rolled extra thin, the pastry adds a touch of rich indulgence to anything, whether savory or sweet. It was then that my mom-in-law suggested mince pies. She talked about the rich filling, a mix of apples and carrots, dried and candied fruit, warm spices and rum. I may have fainted momentarily. These little darlings are delicious in any size or shape. We have made them several times in the last month. I made the pie crust, my mom-in-law made the fruit filling and assembled the pies. The first batch were large, but thin ones in crème brûlée dishes.  

Fruit Mince Pies

Makes: 10 2-inch tartlets
Prep: 7 mins
Chill: at least 60 mins
Oven: 350*F
Bake: 25-30 mins

Preheat oven to 350*F.
Fill each with a heaping tablespoon of the filling.

1-Pinch the edges of the crust around the pie and pop them into the hot oven.

2-Cut a smaller round of dough and place over the top of the crust.
Gently pinch the edges to seal.

Brush the tops with a bit of milk and sprinkle some sugar on top.
Transfer to the hot oven.

Bake 25-30 minutes, until the crust is golden brown and the filling has just started to bubble.

Remove and allow the pies to cool for 10 minutes.
Enjoy with freshly brewed coffee, tea, a tall glass of ice-cold milk, sherry or port.

I was researching the origins of mince pinces when I stumbled onto an unfamiliar word: Offal, pronounced “awful,” which is appropriate considering what it defines the entrails and internal organs of an animal used as food. It also means waste material or decomposing flesh. Suddenly, my mind flooded with visions of a noisy candlelit tavern with heavy wooden tables and benches, rough-faced men gnawing at something in one hand while swinging a tankards to their mouths with the other, carelessly spilling ale about. The history of mince pies may leave citified folks in a state of shock. Originally, the ingredients list included such things as deer stomach, entrails and suet, which is the dense fat around the kidneys. Still, this sort of thing always reminds me of something a young Greek chef said his father taught him – never to waste anything from a creature that gave its life for us. Even so, the only animal in my pies is butter and that comes from pasture-raised cows.

Baking makes me so happy. Whoever you are, whatever you are doing, as long as it’s creative, you’re guaranteed a fresh escape from tired old routines. No bills, traffic, root canals. Making something by hand is so rewarding, maybe even better than a day at the most luxurious spa.

These little pies fill my head with visions of old London. Imagine all the miles they have traveled through land and time to reach us today. Unlike the UK and Australia, we can’t get the store-bought varieties here in the States. If we want them, we have to bake them ourselves, which is fine, because they are a real treat fresh out of the warm oven. Fruit has never been so happy and we have never been so lucky.