Mincemeat pie, did you say?

I have always been fascinated by mincemeat pie. I like to eat weird things that are no longer fashionable or discussed in high society. Like, say, pickled eggs. Cracklins. McDonald's McGriddles. Mayonnaise. Soooo the other weekend I discovered six jars of this stuff at my Grammy's. Yes, Grammy is a hoarder. Good to know that's genetic. So I've always wanted to get on this mincemeat train. I like meat. I like fruit. I like things filled with preservatives. Stuff that will outlast nuclear fallout. These jars could have been a day old or six years old. The mystery was what made it so fun!

It was all I could do not to open the jar and scoop out a spoonful to taste-test it. Unfortunately, I knew Grammy would notice. I held back, and was richly rewarded this Thanksgiving with a mincemeat pie. Just for me. No one else would eat it. The verdict: it didn't blow my mind. To be honest, I kind of wanted it to be meatier. It was a little too potpourri-ish. Yup, it tasted like spices and old fruit and perfume. I wanted a more savory experience. But I'm not giving up on this. I know mincemeat pie can be amazing. I'm gonna bring it back, so help me Lawd. Now it's off to the kitchen to experiment.

This can only end badly.