Christmas Dinner for the ages

Christmas is my favourite time of year, and Christmas dinner seems to epitomize the whole festive season: the food and drink and best of all, the company. It is the one time that people try to see past any differences and gather to share a meal – a simple thing, but a powerful experience.

In a normal year, there might be challenges to bridging the gaps and getting everyone to enjoy a meal together. Both my chef hubbie and I have always believed that we should be grateful we have those people you care about enough to argue with, and toast their good health before you dive into that sumptuous dinner. I suppose a good part of living in a pandemic is being reminded of the things for which we should be grateful.

Ebenezer Scrooge was shown his future in one night. We have spent 9 months living in a version of that same dream. It’s time to get up and embrace a new future.

In my Christmases past, I have had traditions that evolved over time. As a kid, I remember mashed potatoes with gravy, NO Brussel sprouts (my Dad hated them) and a roast turkey with stuffing and cranberry sauce. Stuffing was a topic that was hotly discussed by my parents, as my Mom read more cooking magazines and my Dad pined for the “good old days” when celery and sage were all it needed. Years later, he would be the one saying why hadn’t we added walnuts or used cornbread earlier.

Once I was on my own, I wanted to replicate the Victorian Christmas. I cooked a goose one year, and made Christmas cake. I found out I love Brussel sprouts roasted in the oven and dusted with Parmesan cheese. And as friends and family spread out across the globe, I have learned to enjoy a smaller feast. It has been a rare occasion to have guests for Christmas dinner at Rabbit Hollow – turns out that was a blessing in disguise for this year, not expecting much.

We have a new granddaughter this year and so it is disappointing not to see her in person for Christmas. My stepdaughter was looking forward to having her dad help her with the first of her big family Christmas dinners. But we are focusing on creating a memory that embraces this year so that we can look back on it later as part of our Christmases past.

I don’t think it was merely the tryptophan from the turkey that made me groggy and light-headed at Christmas; it was more that sense of euphoria that comes over you when you immerse yourself in the spirit of Christmas. This doesn’t require the presence of people in the room, just in your heart. If you truly believe in the essence of Christmas then as you let it into your heart and take active part in the festivities and the giving, you cannot help but feel better yourself.

Children know this intuitively, and it is only as our hearts harden if we don’t practice such things that we lose sight of the true meaning of this holiday. Christmas is not for children, but for the child that lies within us all, hoping for a chance to believe in something pure and good, and listening for that magic signal which says that something exists.

So, if you need a dose of “A Wonderful Life” or “The Polar Express” before Christmas dinner to get you in full gear, go right ahead. If you can exchange Tupperware containers to share in the food with folks close in proximity, why not! And when you fire up the screens, have your glass ready. When you sit down to dinner, cherish the meal, toast those with you, remember the ones missing, and take a picture for your memory book. This will only be Christmas present right now.

It is of great importance to take Christmas to heart, for if you do it right, it just might stay with you until next year. Wouldn’t that make the world a wonderful place?

As Tiny Tim said so long ago, “God Bless us every one.” Merry Christmas from our table to yours.

Revisiting a flavour

This Christmas has been full of memories, but it’s the old ones carrying me, as we can’t make many new ones in a world of lockdowns and restrictions. I haven’t posted all month – the only message I can come up with is to try and be positive, but that has gotten increasingly harder. I decided to just immerse myself in the nostalgia.

Last year, Christmas was rich with exotic gifts and flavours we had brought back from our trip to Africa. We shared new recipes at our annual Dessert Before Christmas open house. We gave argan oil and filigree earrings from Morocco, vivid textiles and wood carvings from Senegal. We regaled our family and friends with tales of our adventures. And then of course there were the usual sleigh rides with friends, holiday movies, meeting folks for drinks… I think it used to be called “the hustle and bustle of the season”.

Having lost our chance for a Christmas with anyone but us two, we have resorted like everyone else to living glued to the screen. Zoom and Facebook are the only ways to see them. The outside world has been reduced to 15 inches at best, or sometimes just a face like a postage stamp on my phone. And there is no “smell-o-vision”. Perhaps that is why I decided to make visual cookies was important this year.

My Mom’s Shortbread, all decorated with sprinkles and coloured sugar, looked like they were dressed up for a holiday party even if I couldn’t attend. They were always the favourite when my brother and I were kids, and made me think of happier, busier times.

I also managed a new cookie this year, using not only flavours from Morocco but also a pattern that echoes the beautiful tiles we saw across western Africa. I called them Orange Blossom Lavender Biscuits. (Click on the recipe link to see how I achieved it.) I am no good with icing cookies in elaborate detail – and my ability to push through and persevere is wearing down, so I set myself up for success. I brushed them with a floral-scented glaze and sprinkled dried edible flower petals on top. They deserved a “Ta-da!” at the very least!

So now I feel a bit better. I sent some proudly to friends and relatives in gift bags. My cousin, bless his heart, said lovingly on our Zoom call that they tasted like Froot Loops cereal. I had to laugh – not the review I was hoping for, but sharing the love and laughter was worth its weight in gold. That’s what a cookie can do.

Give freely

Today is Giving Tuesday. My inbox is full of requests to donate for various causes and campaigns. One organization even said, “if you can’t donate cash, post on social media using our campaign hashtag to do your part.” While I am a huge supporter of privately funded causes and supporting what you believe in, I am struck this year by how hard it is for so many of us to do just that.

So, in the spirit of the season – as the saying goes – how about we give the gift of ourselves? Give a gesture, a smile, a wave, when you’re out in the community. Give a call to someone you haven’t connected with in a while. Give your kids your undivided attention.

I can’t take credit for this idea. Those of you who know me won’t be surprised when I tell you I was inspired by someone four-legged.

scroll back and forth to see both parts of this post from a Facebook baking group of which I’m a member…

I chuckled after reading this post, remembering a similar face and I’m sure the same sentiment from my “sous chef”. But I was touched deeply by the stream of comments that followed; a combination of thank you’s for sharing such a loving (albeit hungry) face and efforts to share any information that might help, from encouraging expressions like “hang in there” to links for recipes that might fit the bill.

My pal Ella was always reminding me to make the most of every moment, and when with another creature that almost always meant sharing her enthusiasm. I believe that is the true spirit of Giving Tuesday, and as Toby and his hooman have wonderfully illustrated, it works very well – you just need to send out the message when you need a bit of help.

So, to recap:

• give freely on a regular basis whenever the urge strikes – let your enthusiasm bubble over!
• listen and watch for signs that someone needs a “top-up”
• respond whenever you can to creatures who ask – and then wait for it to come back around. If they have it in them to give, it will come back in spades.

Happy Tuesday!