Not-ready-for-prime-time tarts

My highly imperfect-looking mincemeat tarts are actually far tastier than any I've ever bought. But I think they're a little rough-looking to present as gifts, and the pastry is, umm, crunchy. John says, "Fine, more for us!"

 Mincemeat is a once-a-year pleasure for me – a few tarts from the right bakery at Christmas are all I need. But this Covid/baking year, when I bought some from the wrong bakery and was repelled by the palm-oil aftertaste, my first reaction was: “I can do better than this.”

And so it began. The research: what’s in mincemeat, anyway? The action: should I actually try to make the filling, or just buy a jar? The dreadful dilemma of pastry: should I stoop to buying it or, with sufficient strenuous effort, conquer a lifetime of tough crusts? (Always remembering the melt-in-your mouth pastry my mother whipped together so effortlessly with her bare, capable hands.)

Mom made one mincemeat pie a year – for me, I think – and always used bought filling, so I tried the same route. But Save-On’s “traditional” mincemeat was cloying and my effort at pastry, though tasty, had the texture of cardboard. Aiming higher, I turned to a baking website (address below) for a filling made of apples, raisins, currants, walnuts, spices, brandy and – the coup de grace – home-made candied peel (“it makes such a difference, trust us.”) And so even before I began making the filling, I was twice- boiling oranges and lemons in water, gutting and scraping them until the skins were translucent, then stewing them in syrup, producing a golden bowl of glowing citrus skins.

The result was delicious, if a little heavy on the peel. But the pastry problem remained, probably because I stubbornly refuse to use a food processor (mom did it with her hands, why not me?) No matter how much I chill the bowl, the flour, the butter and sugar, cut it together until it’s just the right consistency and add tiny dribbles of ice-water, that pastry wants to be hard. I tried different recipes, I tried different tart sizes, I experimented with cooking times, but the results were sad.

And so, my fantasies of producing tiny tasteful gift boxes of perfect pastries for friends will remain just that. If I work on my baking skills (or succumb to mechanical aid) in the next year, perhaps there’ll be mincemeat tarts for Christmas, 2021.

--

For those who can't wait that long, here's the recipe site and an encouraging quote:

https://www.baked-theblog.com/mincemeat-tarts/

"These are, of course, a bit more time consuming than store bought mincemeat and pastry shells, but it’s very well worth it. Take the time to make your own candied peel, mincemeat, and pie dough – if you think you don’t like mincemeat tarts, 100% homemade might change your mind."

--

Life is usually far too busy to worry about making your own candied peel, but in retirement, isolation, and Covid times, what the heck is an afternoon? Bottom left are the scraped-out lemon and orange peels; top left are the boiled halves awaiting treatment, and top right are the scrapings.

Once boiled in sugar syrup, these peels will be almost see-through.

Granny Smith apples and the zest and juice of an additional lemon add zing to the filling.

The filling also includes raisins, currents, walnuts, brown sugar, spices and butter, with brandy added after it's cooked.

That darn pastry. Up to this point, it looks perfect. 

Plastic-wrapped for chilling, the pastry then has to be unchilled sufficiently to be workable.

The results. I've put some away in the freezer, and at the rate we're going, I suspect they'll all be gone by Christmas. Whatever their appearance, they really are delicious.