Dreams of Christmas dinner present
Ah, Christmas dinner – the pièce de résistance of the festive season, where dreams of perfectly roasted turkey and crispy yet fluffy roast potatoes dance in our heads. The pressure? Immense. The stakes? Higher than the pile of presents under the tree.
My initiation into hosting this grand feast came at the tender age of 19. My mum was unwell, I was living alone, and, in a moment of youthful optimism (or madness), I declared: ‘I’ll do it!’
Spoiler alert: I was an anxious mess, reliant on a lifeline of frantic phone calls to my grandmother, a culinary wizard who could probably roast a turkey blindfolded.
Fast-forward a couple of decades, and I’ve become a seasoned Christmas hostess (kind of). The largest gathering I ever attempted was for 22 people – a feat of coordination that rivalled a military operation. I cleverly went for a buffet style that year, mostly because people kept showing up at random times, and I didn’t fancy playing traffic controller for cutlery and chair assignments.
Instead, I focused on replenishing the buffet table ensuring that all guests left with full tummies. I loved the open-house vibe, where friends and family who might otherwise have spent the day alone could drop by for a chat, a drink, and a few nibbles.
In recent years, Christmas dinner has been a more intimate affair, just me and Mr T but don’t think smaller means less festive. Oh no, we still pull out all the stops – starting with a glass of Veuve Clicquot as soon as the day begins - traditions are sacred and Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without a glass of bubbly.
Mr T has a lovely tradition of running the Goal Mile with his grandchildren in the morning, which leaves me in peace to start prepping the meal. We don’t stress about timing – whenever the food’s ready is when we sit down, and by ‘ready’, I mean me singing to the gravy while on my last glass of champagne.
This year’s starter is a repeat from last year: twice-baked cheese soufflé. It’s fancy enough to impress but mercifully easy to prepare in advance. For the main event, turkey takes centre stage. The skin gets loosened and stuffed with an ungodly amount of butter and the bird is cloaked in streaky bacon.
Halfway through roasting, I replace the bacon with a fresh layer, ensuring juicy meat and a mid-cooking snack for me.
Next come the trimmings. Yorkshire puddings? A non-negotiable. Roast potatoes? Golden and crispy. Brussels sprouts? Mr T believes that they are delicious. And my green beans get a buttery breadcrumb topping that makes them practically irresistible. Ham and spiced beef join the party.
Dessert is a little experimental this year: a chocolate dome filled with mousse and an orange jelly centre, inspired by Jaffa cakes. It’s not quite perfect yet – the jelly needs a bigger citrusy punch to hold its own against the chocolate – but the beauty of it is that it can be made ahead of time. That way, I can enjoy my champagne-induced cooking euphoria without worrying about last-minute pastry disasters.
After dinner, we migrate to the living room for the traditional Christmas nap, in front of the TV until hunger strikes again. Then it’s time for sandwiches – because, clearly, we haven’t eaten enough – before succumbing to a second food coma.
So here’s to you, my lovely Christmas cooks! Whether it’s your first time or your fiftieth, may your turkey be tender, your gravy smooth, and your sprouts not cause a family mutiny.
Merry Christmas!