I'm late starting an advent countdown. So rather than talk about it I'll just get stuck in with a family story.
Back in 1914, when my Nan was five, her mother (my Great-Grandmother) made mincepies for all the men of the village who were serving in France at Christmas. My Nan had to help grease the patty pans, and, being five, moaned about it a lot. It seems they did this every Christmas of WWI. Some years later, about the time my Nan got married, she met a man from the village who had received some of the mincepies, and thanked her for them and the reminder of home. As she'd helped, her mother had mentioned her in the notes that had gone with them, and she hadn't known.
It may, or may not, have been this family recipe for mincemeat.