Thanksgiving is my favorite.
I love the smells. I love the parades. I love the gathering of family to hearth and home for the annual display of familial dysfunction and inebriation.
And I love the pie.
Oh, how I loves me the pie.
Pumpkin pie, how do I love thee? Let me count the creamy orange, cloved ways…
Apple pie, I heart you and your cinnamon gooey loveliness topped with just the right amount of vanilla ice cream (and none of that cheddar cheese nonsense, m’kay?).
Mince pie, you are the apple of my eye. My one true, enduring, never ending Thanksgiving love.
Yes, I said mince pie. Shut up.
When I was a child, my father and grandfather would light up like Christmas trees at the sight of my mother bringing in the mince pie for dessert. They’d eagerly smack their lips and stuff third helpings of this exotic smelling, murky looking confection and my seven year old self would be left to wonder what the hell a freaking mince was and who exactly sacrificed them to the pie gods.
As my tastes matured, I tried mince pie for the first time when I was about twelve. Right then and there, I stopped caring about minces and their plight. Slaughter as many minces as you need, mince factory workers, this gal needs to get her mince on once a year!
When I became the Martha Stewart, Erma Bombeck that I am in the kitchen (read: swearing like Roseanne Barr while drinking like Julia Child), I quickly discovered that making mince pie is hard. There are about 42 ingredients, some recipes call for actual meat (do they make organic mince meat?) and liquor. I need the liquor to drink WHILE I bake, not to pour INTO my pies. Duh.
So, I had to come up with a way for me to get my mince on without losing my marbles. And I’ve decided to share my ultra secret, “I never tell anyone”, was gonna go to my grave recipe with you, my pie loving readers. And, if you don’t like mince pie, I’m not sure we can be friends. Sorry about that….
The “Don’t Lose Your Marbles Mince Pie”
Serves: Varied. Best to make two, because if I’m coming, Imma eat a whole one by myself.
Preheat oven: Turn it on. To the hot setting. (But not “Broil”. Because no one likes charred pie).
Ingredients (by “ingredients”, I mean the items you send Hubby to purchase):
Premade pie shells, 2 (I prefer generic, store brand. Because cheap. But, if you are Donald Trump, go ahead and buy the Pillsbury).
One jar of mince filling (my grocery store only stocks one brand. So I buy that one. Natch).
Prep Time: Approximately three hours (Length of time it takes for Hubby to find the store, locate the aisles with pie crusts and mince filling, call you six times to ask you where aforementioned aisles are, stop for a beer with buddies, and return home after you’ve texted him nine times to get his hairy ass home because “….we have twenty people to coming to dinner and don’t you GET IT?”).
1). Unroll pie crusts.
2). Place one into a pie dish.
3). Open jar of mince filling and dump onto pie crust mentioned in Step 2.
4). Cover filling with second pie crust.
5). Crimp edges. (Expert tip: crimping means squeezing pie crust together so the filling doesn’t ooze out and spill onto the bottom of your oven and leave you a crusted mess to clean up. Which you don’t actually clean, but, rather, let slowly burn away for the next two months).
6). Place pie in oven for however long the directions say on the pie crust box. (Or until you remember that you put the damned thing in there and yell “Shit! I forgot about the pie!!”)
7). Pour glass of wine and smirk at culinary genius.
8). Repeat Step 7.
9). Repeat Step 8.
So, there you have it. Mince pie. No muss, no fuss. Heavy on the easy, light on the sacrificed minces.
Maybe next time, I’ll share my award winning cranberry sauce recipe. I don’t want to give anything away, but it only involves one ingredient…..
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