Operation Mincemeat

It was an article in the November 2008 issue of Saveur that did it. Got me so inspired to learn about mincemeat, make it, put it in a pie, and actually eat it. After all, it’s not something my generation was exposed to very much. And if it was, it was a pie at a church supper made with the commercial brands, None Such or Crosse & Blackwell mincemeat. It would have been dry and crumbly and bitter—not something you would like unless it was a nostalgic food memory for you, like it was for my mom, born in the 1940s to a mother and grandmother who made mince pies every Thanksgiving. Without fail, whenever I ask any of my friends about mince pie, I get a grimace, followed by “I had it once when I was a child, I think, and I hated it.” It seems to be right up there with Brussels sprouts or liver and onions in the childhood pantheon of hated foods. An acquired taste, probably. But when I made little mince pies last year at Christmas, a few of my bravest friends tried them and loved them. It’s all in the homemade mincemeat, you see.

From now until the end of the year, I plan to mostly blog about mincemeat.  This is the time of year when it has been made traditionally, in preparation for the holidays and the long winter ahead. (It originally was one of several ways to preserve meat for the winter.) I have been thinking about making several kinds this year, including a chocolate rum mincemeat recipe I found on the Internet, and my own take on a New England mincemeat, made with dry (alcoholic) cider brewed in New Hampshire, and maybe dried cranberries, blueberries, Concord grapes and walnuts to replace the usual brandy, raisins, currants, and almonds. What do you think?

Time to start hunting and gathering: quart-size canning jars, candied peel (or maybe I’ll make my own!), dried fruit, alcohol (brandy, cider, rum), almonds, etc. I feel like the old woman and young boy in Truman Capote’s "A Christmas Memory," in the orchard, collecting nuts for their fruitcakes in an old baby buggy.

Source
Kracklauer, Beth. “A Prodigal Pie.” Saveur, November 2008, P. 34-36. 

Of Presidents and Poets: Devotion to Marmalade

Of Presidents and Poets: Devotion to Marmalade

In order to establish historical precedence, I have compiled a completely random list of world figures who have indulged in marmalade devotion for your edification:

The sister of 17th-century poet Sir Philip Sydney—most exquisitely named Ambrosia— had a tutor named Lodowick, who was, on more than one occasion, rewarded for his efforts with a two-pound box of marmalade. (1) (N.B. It was in a box, because back then marmalade was something like quince paste.)

Martha Washington had her own orange marmalade recipe which she used at Mount Vernon, the home she shared with George (and more than a few children, grandchildren and servants), in Virginia. (I feel very much inclined to hunt down this recipe, so stay tuned; I will share it if I can find it.) (2)

“When the writer Louisa May Alcott visited Britain in the 1800s, she described ‘a choice pot of marmalade and a slice of cold ham’ as ‘essentials of English table comfort.’’’  (3)

Edward VIII of England used to eat his breakfast kipper with a dab of marmalade . . . . (Don’t ask me to explain what a kipper is; you can look it up on Wikipedia.) (4)

“Winston Churchill was a life-long devotee of both marmalade and marmalade (orange tabby) cats. In his own unique take on the breakfast of champions . . . legend has it that Churchill downed a glass of Pol Roger cuvée (Champagne) daily with his full English breakfast. He justified this exuberance by saying: ‘In victory, I deserve it; in defeat, I need it.’ Indeed.” (5)

Oh dear. According to newly released documents from the UK’s National Archives, Adolf Hitler enjoyed bread and marmalade for breakfast . . . . (6)

American writer William Faulkner would often awake at around 4 a.m., and he usually treated himself to an enormous breakfast of eggs, grits, fruit, bacon or steak, toast with Dundee marmalade, and black coffee. Then he would disappear into his library for several hours of writing. (7)

When asked what he is most homesick for when he travels, Michael Palin (of Monty Python fame) answered: “Home-made marmalade and the smell of newly mown grass.” Palin really likes marmalade. In describing his perfect Sunday, he says, “I don’t like to waste a day so I tend not to lie in past 8.30am, however awful I’m feeling. I would probably do some exercises in a desultory sort of way, go downstairs and have a healthy breakfast of papaya, with a squeeze of lime juice on top. . . . I might also have some toast with my wife Helen’s homemade marmalade, which is particularly brilliant.’” (8)

In January 2011, The Sun reported that mum-to-be Victoria Beckham had “developed an intense pregnancy craving—for marmalade.” Apparently, Posh Spice enjoyed “lashings of the orange preserve in sandwiches and on toast, washed down with cups of English breakfast tea. A source said: ‘She can’t get enough of the stuff.’”(9)

*        *        *        *        *

I wonder who else couldn’t get enough. Did Shakespeare ever profess a liking for it? (Maybe Anne Hathaway had a special recipe.) Did Scott pack jars of marmalade for his Arctic expeditions? Did T.E. Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia) carry it on camels into the desert? I wonder: how does the Queen feel about it?

1. (Sir Philip Sidney: Courtier Poet, Katherine Duncan-Jones, Yale University Press: 1991).
2. (Paula, D. (1985, February 10). Bittersweet Star of British Breakfasts. New York Times. p. 55.)
3. R. W. Apple, Jr. (2002, March 27). This Blessed Plot, This Realm of Tea, This Marmalade. New York Times. p. 1.)
4. Laura, P. (2011, February 24). (Why the kipper is smoking hot again. Daily Mail. p. 37.)
5. Toast and marmalade for tea. (2006). Money Management, 20(37), 36.)
6. Hitler’s nice side. (2010). Daily Telegraph, The (Sydney), 24. Also: Late riser Hitler had long lie-in. (2010). Sun, The, 24.
7. (Johnson, R. (2005). From Brahms to bathrobes: You may learn a thing or two from the work habits of some famous writers. Writer, 118(12), 28-30. (Debbie, N. (1999, December 12).
8. Palin misses marmalade. Sun-Herald, The (Sydney). p. 98.) (Michael, P. (2010). Also: myperfectsunday. Sunday Telegraph (London), 4.)
9. (Lia, N. (2011). Posh has a craving for mumalade. Sun, The, 3.)

The aforementioned green tomato mincemeat recipe

This is the mincemeat my mom and I made a few summers ago.  Very yummy.

GREEN TOMATO MINCEMEAT

(If you want to skip the suet, you can. You will just have to heat and thicken with a little cornstarch + liquid before using in a pie shell or shells. Use approximately 1 Tbsp.cornstarch dissolved in 1 Tbsp. of brandy or orange juice.)

Ingredients:
3 quarts chopped green tomatoes
1½ quarts peeled, chopped tart apples (such as Granny Smith)
2 cups golden raisins

1 cup currants

½ cup diced candied citron, lemon or orange peel

1½ cups chopped suet

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

¼ teaspoon ground allspice

¼ teaspoon ground cloves

2 teaspoons salt

3 cups brown sugar, firmly packed

½ cup apple cider vinegar

¼ cup lemon juice

¼ cup brandy

Instructions:

1.      Combine all ingredients in a large, heavy pan (not cast iron). (Omit cloves if you plan to freeze mincemeat.)

2.      Cook mixture slowly until it is tender and thick, about 1 hour or more. Stir frequently to prevent sticking.

3.      To can, pour boiling mixture into hot, sterile jars, leaving 1/2-inch headspace; seal promptly. Process in a boiling water bath for 20 minutes.

4.      Store in a cool dry place.

5.      To freeze, pack cold mincemeat into freezer jars or containers, leaving about an inch headspace for expansion. Seal and freeze promptly.

Makes: 5 to 6 quarts