Aunt Hulda On Mincemeatpies

I'm partial as my favourite Aunt (name's Hulda) (who's no dilettante) has pointed out a thousand times to mince pies and to certain rhymes. Debating comes to her like singing and Friday last, the phone was ringing, she yanked the cord out from its socket took from her purse a silver locket and handed me a treasure piece, the locket showed a few wild geese. A gaggle, Hulda said, they'd wander throughout the orchards, also yonder, to chase the bloody thieves away, their tour of duty starts in May. You know, my Aunt said, way back then when your great-uncle, Lucius Benn pulled up his stakes down in Toulouse, packed up their children and the booze, kissed on both cheeks his slutty wife went north to find a better life, he left some fertile ground behind. A land of people, short and kind, who toiled all day to fill the vats down in the cellar (live with bats) , their specialty was Beaujolais as well as Le Pernod. I say, perhaps he really should have stayed, although your uncle was dismayed by what he had considered sad, a marriage which, so quickly had turned into un petit fromage she left and took her great plumage. Oh yes, my boy, le grand chateau! It was a shame, he loved it so but gave the land and all the geese to his philandering, cute niece. He had to leave and since he knew that Nordic folks, too liked their brew, his travels led him to the Rhine that's where he tasted sour wine. He was appalled at the poor juice and bought a single, gallic goose. The local ruler, filled with presence, was twice as heavy as his peasants, they knew him as a connoisseur, and in the land, a force majeure. Hand-carved of rosewood was his bed and thirteen cooks to keep him fed were living on the palace grounds where English pheasants made their rounds. A master by the name of Pierre worked day and night to brew La Bière, a shock it was to see a French and not a Kraut, a local Mensch would be employed to brew the Bier, well, Pierre had been the man from Trier which was his home and that is where his mum would regularly bear a child each Spring, from different genes; she'd been a woman, full of beans or, as they say, of many coats who'd eat her share of well-soaked oats. Well, boy, Aunt Hulda said, some day you too will understand, you may condemn the filth and fickle mores of men and also of their whores. Back to the story, (here she grins) your fondness for a pie of mince is in your blood, you see we made from berries not just lemonade, while menfolk stirred the virgin wine we manufactured a sweet brine of fruits and spirits and some spice, (the measurements must be precise) this mixture then was put in crocks, weighed down by hemlock boards and rocks. It would ferment in one short moon, be tested with a silver spoon and made the filling of small pies for men and women and small guys, and uncle Lucius was the one who brought (do pardon, lad the pun) the recipe from the deep south to please the bland Germanic mouth. Down in Toulouse, in Seventeen Ten you'd see how clans like ours, Benn, would butcher geese to use their meat, after some cooking on high heat into the pies they then called mince, your uncle stopped this; ever since a deep respect is shown to geese but let me tell you of the fleece, the golden one, boy you will be impressed....what is it dear? I see, back to the subject, well I know inside my head the thoughts do flow, from hemisphere to hemisphere, which is much better than pure air which some do seem to hold within (she said with her satanic grin) . Where was I, yes, I meant to say that since your uncle went away, all locals changed their recipes and kept their orchard guards (the geese) . So mincemeat pie contains no meat the fruits and berries, great to eat, are sprinkled with some spice (but no) there is a secret which will go from grandma just before she passes to her own kin and not the masses. Well are you hungry now, let's eat we're having mincemeat pies - No MEAT. Note: Mincemeat pies today, and since about 1710, contain no meat whatsoever. Geese and other animals, some employed as guards for the precious fruits and berries, are used for more worthwhile purposes such as making shoes and feather pillows. Adding meat to mincemeat pies is an abomination, a prostitution of a sweet delicacy. It is, in my opinion, akin to attaching a groin duffelbag to a lady. However, the Americans have managed to manufacture their semi-plastic mincemeat mix with added meat! It is rumoured that the origin of said meat may be as secret as the recipe mentioned above.