There is a growing force taking over our fridge. It makes me flinch every time I open the fridge door. It’s not blue cheese, or even shrimp paste, but a particularly virulent strain of Kimchee (or Kimchi) that we bought from Tokyo Mart last month. It’s so potent that I have it wrapped like a mummy in countless layers of unenvironmentally-friendly plastic wrap, to try to stem the smell. But the leaves of fermented cabbage are probably silently burning holes in the container and the wrap, and just when the fridge is bulging with the scent, some poor soul opens the door in the morning, releasing the power of.. sniff sniff.. what IS that? Petrol?

Unfortunately, it’s also very good Kimchee. But somewhere along the line, something’s gotta give…

On the same day I made some fruit mince for tarts, I had some apples left over and decided to make a pie as well. The recipe was a first attempt from Rose Levy Berenbaum’s Pie and Pastry Bible. The apples were peeled, cored, thinly sliced and marinated in brown sugar and spices for about an hour. The resulting liquid was then drained from the slices, reduced in a pan until caramelly, then poured back over the apples. The pie crust was a wonderfully tender cream cheese pastry that held it’s shape really well and was easy to make in the food processor.

My sister and I used to love having butterfish for dinner, chased down with a large piece of apple pie. Always with a big scoop of vanilla ice-cream, of course. My french-canadian friend, Myriam grew up eating hers with a wedge of cheddar on the side. I can’t remember the last time I made an apple pie. It seems to have been sidelined these days for it’s more glamorous cousin, apple tarte tatin. But now it’s back to basics, and time again, I think, to cut myself another slice of this humble pie..

The shops may have started stocking Spring fashion, but I don’t give up so easily. While it’s still Winter, I intend to milk the weather for what it’s worth and bake as much as possible. Make hay while the sun does not shine so strongly, so to speak. Once Summer slips along in it’s lazy sandals, I’ll be tossing salads and using the oven solely as extra storage space.

Meanwhile, here is a tale of two tarts. Well, one is a pie really, but if we nitpick, I won’t have a good title to start the ball rolling with.

The first is a set of mince tarts. Historically speaking, these tarts are meant to contain minced meat, with dried fruit being included as a sort of filler. Over time, it appears to have evolved to the fruit based tarts we are more familiar with. And when making tarts these days, it’s easy enough to buy a jar of fruit mince from the supermarket, but I thought it would be interesting to have a completely home-made tart.

My only criteria when looking for a recipe was that it had to be a suet-free mince because I’m not a big fan of suet. It’s a bit too cloying for me, and there’s nothing worse than having to clean and grate the suet. My friend Cathy can vouch for that, when we once made a large batch of traditional christmas puddings. (She even offered Nicole $200 to eat a thumb-sized piece of raw suet. $200 out-of-pocket later, she should have realised not to challenge someone who grew up in a house with three brothers and who is probably immune to all sorts of gross dares. Nicole tucked into the suet like it was candy).

But back to the recipe. Although I like the look of Nigella Lawson’s “How to be a Domestic Goddess”, the book rarely gets used because I usually end up with varying degrees of success… or un-success. This recipe however looked very promising. It’s called “Hettie Potter’s Suet-free Mincemeat”. With a cool name like that, Hettie sounded like someone who would know a thing or two about fruit mince! Along with sliced Granny Smith apples, spices and the usual raisins and currants, I also included some dried cherries and lashings of Calvados. All the ingredients were placed in a pot and simmered gently to a resulting moist and spicy mixture. Easy peasy, with satisfying end results.

And while there are many traditions attached to the making or eating of mince tarts that we don’t abide by nowadays, there’s one little rule that I’m happy enough to retain – that is, you should always enjoy a mince tart in silence.