Christmas Dinner

Everyone is so kind. Neighbours of my cousins invited the family (myself included) for Christmas dinner. Which, by the way, is served in the early afternoon in England, and is called lunch.

There were seven of us, so we had a little parade marching down the street, the young men carrying dining chairs, my cousin with the appetizers, and I (of course) had the champers.

Dinner was amazing – turkey (obvs), roast tatties, brussel sprouts, homemade cranberry sauce (Delia Smith’s recipe), parmesan-breaded parsnips (OMG – they were magnificent), gravy, and bread sauce. Bread sauce is a uniquely British condiment, served with poultry, and comprised of nothing more than bread, onion, and milk, cooked into a thin gruel-like consistency. I may not be selling it well; Brits love it but in my experience, North Americans, well, not so much. Oh and my cousin just reminded me of the braised red cabbage – it was very good and it seems it’s de rigeur on every Christmas dinner table.

The plum pud was quite the dramatic finale: our host’s son was in charge of lighting the pudding. But none of this ‘pour over the brandy and get out the BBQ lighter crap’: at the head of the table he heated the brandy in a large silver spoon held over a candle, tilting it ever so slightly to catch the flame and light up, then tipped it on to the pudding, all while being coached by the other nine guests at the top of their lungs. Ah, tradition.

I’m not sure the post-dinner board game involving Fascists and Liberals is equally traditional, but it was fun nonetheless. Perhaps my cousin and I shouldn’t have stayed up another three hours drinking champagne and talking, but you’ll be pleased to hear we have solved most of the world’s problems.

All in all, the best Christmas I have had since COVID.

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