Every year about this time when the
days get cold and the nights longer, I wake up one morning, stretch my arms wide
open, and say to the world: Let the eating begin!
The Olympics
of Food is about to start. Never mind the big torch, light the ovens. Watch the
parade of dishes fill the tables. All those colorful displays of food you never
see any other time of the year—and thank god for that. I mean you could eat
cherries in brandy anytime but, for me, it’s only at Christmas that it fits.
There will be medals for best
nibbles, best entrée, best salad, best sweet potato, best cookies, best pies,
best favorite whatever, most outlandish French pastry that looks like something
you’d never consider eating, best wine before dinner, best wine with dinner,
best wine after dinner, best wine anytime, best eggnog with rum, best eggnog with brandy, best brandy never mind the nog, and the list goes on. Instead of
the 12 days of Christmas, somebody should write a song about the 75,000
calories and the 100 or so meals of Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Solstice.
Thanksgiving is really just the warm up, the first course, you might say, in a
month long binge of eating. And I love it.
Alright, I exaggerate. Not every
morsel I consume in December is an elaborate culinary production. And not
everything to do with “The Holidays” has to do with food. But the food is the
key part. You go to work this month and you eat. You go to parties and you eat.
You have friends over and you eat. You decorate the tree and you eat. You open
presents and you eat. Maybe it’s the fright of winter. It’s cold and dark, we’d
better stock up, gird our loins, put on protective layers of fat, nourish
ourselves for the coming bleak days. We could end up starving as the winds of
winter howl. This really is a time of primal urges.
For me, these holidays are the
antidote for darkness. I hate the short days, the early nights. I love the
lights and the decorations, the busy bustling about, the gift giving, the
visiting, the sharing of special traditional foods. I love the sense that for this
one month normal rules don’t apply. It’s a month of light and sharing, sharing
around the table.
I guess that all stems from the fact
that food was a central part of everything in my family as I grew up. Mom loved
to bake and made special Christmas cookies that I loved as a kid and still do.
But now instead of sneaking around searching out her hiding places for these
treats and secretly eating a cookie or two, I use her recipes to make my own.
And I get pretty close to mom’s triumphs. Of course, it’s hard to screw up any
combination of sugar, butter, nuts and chocolate. And I still hide them from
myself and still sneakily snitch one before company gets them.
Jamie and I have also established
some of our own Christmas traditions like decorating the house with lights and
garlands, filling the house with friends and—it always gets back to food—sharing
a Christmas Eve dinner of prime rib and all the trimmings, maybe even some
French pastry.
Christmas, they say, is really about
anticipation and the birth of new life. It’s about nourishment. It’s a time to be
with people and shake off the darkness while looking forward to when the days will
lengthen. The dark of December is, after all, always followed by the brightness
of January’s new year. Break out the champagne!
© 15 Dec
2011
About the Author
Nicholas grew up in Cleveland,
then grew up in San Francisco, and is now growing up in Denver. He retired from
work with non-profits in 2009 and now bicycles, gardens, cooks, does yoga,
writes stories, and loves to go out for coffee.
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