Just for starters, there’s the list of gifts
to buy, the Christmas card list, plus multiple lists for Christmas food and
drink shopping (a big task for us, as we also stock up pretty heavily for
winter). Then there’s the list of timings for Christmas dinner. The first time
I cooked Christmas dinner, I had a list of exactly what to do when, like I was
stage-managing a presidential visit or something. (You know the sort of thing….
9.10am: take turkey out of fridge. 10.15am: put oven on. 10.45am: rub turkey in
butter. 11am: put turkey in oven. Like that, except even more anal.)
We all have our little rituals in the run-up
to Christmas, like watching Die Hard on
Christmas Eve or wearing tasteless
Christmas jumpers (the more hideous, the better). I'm not embarrassed to say that writing the cooking schedule for
Christmas dinner is one of my ritual preparations. Over the years, the
anally-detailed schedule has got less and less prescriptive, partly because I’m
a better, more confident cook these days, and also because I know full well the
schedule goes right out of the window on the day (right around the time I
consume the first glass of breakfast alcohol). It’s basically a sham exercise
by now, but I write it out every year anyway. It’s Christmas, innit?
Trouble is, the older I get, the less enthused
I am about the full-on, turkey-and-all-the-trimmings Christmas dinner. I want
something festive and fancy, but I don’t want a marathon of cooking and washing
up. So last year we had a Scandi-style, light dinner of steak, pickled cabbage
and potatoes with garlic and dill. And
it was great. And I thought, yes, let’s cook
something different every Christmas. I
EMBRACE CHANGE. I’M NOT A CONTROL FREAK.
Which brings us to fondue, our choice for
Christmas dinner 2018. Yes, actual cheese fondue, off the 1970s, with the metal
sticks and cubes of bread and everything. No, I’m not joking. We're fully committed.
And I’m excited for our 1970s Christmas
dinner, complete with chunky knitwear, old-school trifle, and (all being well)
a bit of snow on the ground. I’m excited, even though it means I have one less
list to write. After all, change is good for the soul.
So merry Christmas one and all. There’s no
place I’d rather be. Here’s hoping you’re right where you want to be, too.
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| My Christmas gift to you. A picture of two kittens fighting in a basket. You're welcome. |
