Why There’s No Mince in Mince Pies Anymore

Ah, mince pies. Those tiny, unassuming pastry parcels that hold the very essence of a British Christmas in their spiced, fruity depths. Few treats inspire such devotion and confusion in equal measure. “Mince pie?” an unsuspecting foreigner might ask, eyes widening in horror. “Is there actual mince in it?” Once upon a time, yes. But these days? Not a chance.

Mince pies trace their origins back to the Middle Ages, when they were indeed filled with minced meat, fruits, and heavy-handed doses of spices—an exotic mishmash that screamed wealth and status. Sugar and spice were signs of affluence, and what better way to show off than cramming everything expensive into a pie? Over time, the meat gradually slinked away, leaving behind a sweet, boozy mix of dried fruits, suet, and warming spices. By the Victorian era, they had fully evolved into the dessert-like treat we know today, much to the relief of modern vegetarians.

Not all mince pies are created equal. The classic British version is a shortcrust pastry filled with mincemeat (which, let’s reiterate, contains no meat). But travel north to Scotland, and you’ll find mince pies with a slightly heavier hand on the whisky. Across the pond in America, they exist only in Dickensian nostalgia or as a curio in British-themed shops. Australians, ever practical, have their own version that’s often sweeter, less spiced, and with a tendency to embrace butter-laden puff pastry.

What makes a mince pie special? It’s not just the taste—it’s the ritual. That first bite of the season, inevitably too hot and always accompanied by an undignified crumb explosion, signals the beginning of Christmas. They’re a treat best enjoyed by a roaring fire, even if that fire is a radiator in a rented flat. And they improve with age. A good homemade batch, soaked liberally in brandy or rum, will mature into something spectacular over a few weeks.

Drinks to pair with mince pies? The obvious choice is mulled wine—warm, spiced, and slightly alcoholic, it’s the liquid equivalent of a Christmas jumper. A strong cup of tea does the trick just as well. For those who really want to lean into the decadence, a small glass of port or a rich, nutty sherry makes for an ideal, if slightly indulgent, companion.

As for what to eat alongside a mince pie, clotted cream is a fine choice—thick, luxurious, and a little over the top. Brandy butter is another contender, though it has a knack for making even the most respectable person appear slightly tipsy after dessert. And if you’re feeling truly rebellious, a good wedge of mature cheddar pairs surprisingly well with the fruity spiced filling.

Health benefits? Well, let’s be honest. Mince pies are not exactly superfoods. They are loaded with sugar, butter, and dried fruit, which means fibre, yes, but also an impressive calorie count. However, if eaten in moderation (which, let’s face it, never happens), they provide a comforting dose of seasonal joy, and that has to count for something. On the plus side, the spices—cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves—do have antioxidant properties. So really, you could argue they’re practically medicinal.

Where can you find them? In the UK, everywhere from November onwards. Supermarkets pile them high, bakeries add artisanal twists, and every home baker worth their rolling pin attempts at least one batch per year. Good ones are rich, well-spiced, and slightly boozy. Bad ones are dry, claggy, and taste like disappointment. Outside Britain, your best bet is a specialty shop or an expat’s kitchen.

For those who prefer to make their own, here’s a recipe that guarantees success (and possibly new friends, if you’re willing to share).

Homemade Mince Pies

For the mincemeat:

• 200g raisins
• 200g sultanas
• 200g currants
• 100g mixed peel
• 1 small cooking apple, peeled and finely chopped
• 150g soft brown sugar
• 1 tsp ground cinnamon
• 1 tsp mixed spice
• ½ tsp nutmeg
• Zest and juice of 1 lemon
• 50g suet (vegetarian if preferred)
• 100ml brandy or rum

For the pastry:

• 250g plain flour
• 125g cold butter, cubed
• 50g icing sugar
• 1 egg yolk
• A splash of milk

Mix all the mincemeat ingredients in a bowl, cover, and let them sit overnight (or longer) to absorb all that boozy goodness. Meanwhile, for the pastry, rub the butter into the flour until it resembles breadcrumbs. Stir in the sugar, then bind with the egg yolk and a splash of milk until a dough forms. Chill for at least 30 minutes.

Roll out the pastry to about 3mm thickness and cut out circles to line a muffin tin. Fill each case with a generous spoonful of mincemeat, then top with another pastry disc or a festive shape (stars are classic). Brush with milk and bake at 180°C for about 20 minutes, until golden.

Cool slightly before eating, because molten mincemeat has burnt more tongues than hot tea ever could. Enjoy with reckless abandon and a smug sense of festive satisfaction.