"Mincemeat?" Brooke looked at him with a little surprise. If they wanted something to balance the sweet, why . . . oh, duh. "Right, with actual meat. Right, I can make that happen."<br/><br/>She gave him a smile, tipping her head to one side as she glanced over his station. "I can peel and cut up the potatoes while you put together the rest of the stuff for them, then hit the mincemeat." She reached for one of the paring knives on the counter and a half-peeled potato. "Fastest knife in Shropshire, three years running," she said, starting to skim the coarse outer layer of the tuber away with quick, efficient movements.<br/><br/>Mincemeat, mincemeat . . . she was pondering her options while her hands worked busily taking the skin off the potatoes. Lamb, yeah. Lamb was a good choice, and pretty common around the world. "All right, so for the mincemeat, I'm thinking ground lamb and chopped walnuts, some preserved lemons," she'd seen a jar of them looking abandoned on a shelf, "and some oil-cured olives, harissa." She set down the peeled potato and grabbed another, her mind working as quickly as her hands. "Like a Moroccan mincemeat, do you think?" Maybe they could put down a thin layer of spiced, savory cheese to give it a little creaminess and help it hold together.