It's not like all the Christmases I've had
Aye up. It's Christmas, you know the drill. I head up to my parents' housein Durham, and write a post about how we have a nice fire and lots of beer and so on.
It's been obvious for a while that this wasn't going to be quite a normal Christmas. ChrisC and I booked an AirBnB in Darlington, because it seemed wiser to try and limit how much time we spent breathing on my parents. I've had lots of conversations with my parents since, and each time we felt like we should scale our expectations back a little (at one point the mother threatened to leave an insulated bag containing our Christmas dinner on the doorstep for us to collect... I *think* she was joking).
And then, last Saturday afternoon, London went abruptly into tier 4 and all our plans were cancelled.
We don't keep much Christmas in the flat, so have been carefully planning how to - in as few shopping trips as possible - acquire enough Christmas for two.
There were some logistical issues: our Christmas cake and Christmas dinner were in Darlington. We have food in the freezer here, so there was no imminent danger of us starving to death. But I felt it needed more Christmas.
I seemed to be reasonably well stocked with dried fruit, so set on to make a Christmas cake. The quantities in the recipe were massive, and I don't actually own a suitable cake tin, so I made a half-quantity in a loaf tin. It rose a bit too much, but definitely smelled like Christmas cake. It's now iced, and decorated with some plastic holly leaves that came off... I dunno, something. I've never almond-iced or royal-iced a cake before. It's kind of lumpy and absolutely wouldn't pass muster with the Sugarcraft Guild, but not to worry. All I actually needed to purchase was some marizpan, and some glycerin. Bonus points to ChrisC, who came in at a critical point and suggested I turn it upside down (which is, of course, what all people who want their cake to have a flat top do. In this case, it also meant the slopey sides sloped in a more sensible direction).
Our local deli was all sold out of Wensleydale to eat with it (boo!) but proffered me some Cornish Yarg instead. They even gave me a bit to nibble to verify I thought it was a suitable substitute. The lack of Wensleydale is disappointing, but honestly given the general vibe of this year if the worst thing about my Christmas is that I have the wrong kind of cheese to eat with my cake, then I will eat my Yarg and be grateful.
I've never cooked a Christmas dinner before, but I've been sous chef for my mother for years (decades!) and I cook roasts on a regular basis. So, it can't be that hard, right? A turkey for two seemed a bit ridiculous, so we have a chicken. We also have a ham which, due to some ineptitude on my part when I went to the butcher, is actually ridiculous. There will be compulsory ham sandwiches with every meal until at least Twelfth Night, and possibly Candlemas.
I haven't gone full Gantt chart on it, but I've written up a list of what has to go in the oven. Ovenspace is going to be the limiting factor, I think.
Oh, and for those who remember that we were trying to buy a new oven in about 2016, because ours was knackered: we didn't, and it still is. I'm sure it'll be fine.
In about November, more out of curiosity than anything else, I experimented with making Christmas puddings and made two small, 1-pint-pudding-basin puds. We ate one, and I was keeping the other with a vague plan to serve it to a pud-loving Small Friend who would be visiting with her parents between Christmas and New Year. As it is, no one will be visiting at all, and we will eat the pud (I have promised Small Friend I will make another for whenever she is allowed to venture this way).
There were issues of decor: we don't really own any Christmas decorations. Some years back, I tried to invent my own tradition of an advent tree. It's a small, wooden tree and each day I hang a small bauble on it. It now finds itself promoted to the job of Christmas tree (it seems a bit nervous, but it's doing fine). We've put the cards up, dancing round the flat to the CD of Christmas songs that usually goes into the car stereo for the drive. (I really recommend A Very Indie Christmas if you want a fun, non-standard Christmas song). We had vaguely intended to buy some tinsel, but none of our shopping trips took us to places where one could acquire same, and it didn't seem worth a special journey. I did buy a nice fir-and-pine-cones-thing-with-candle from the local florist (pick up from open coffee shop, pay at florist's door).
This afternoon, I chucked cider, apple juice, calvados, cinnamon and orange peel into the slow cooker, so the flat is beautifully decorated with nice smells. Also, I have mulled cider. Win.
Finally, there are issues of company. I was looking forward to seeing my family. All of us - but especially the family members who live alone - had been really looking forward to the bright lights of Christmas. These, sadly, are less readily fixed with a raid on the local shops.
We have Zoom, and we have phones. We have the ability to send photos and word games and so on back and forth. We even - despite the queues and the teetering piles of parcels - have a postal service that will get a box of stocking-fillers from here to Darlington in less than 24 hours for a few quid. I have a phone call with my family lined up, and a cryptic-crossword-Zoom with the outlaws, and a pyjama-Zoom on Boxing Day morning with my godfather. Various WhatsApp groups are busily buzzing as people share their Christmas cheer around.
It's not the Christmas I was expecting, but it'll be OK. I have a staggering amount to be grateful for: everyone I care about is healthy. I've got plenty to eat, and a warm place to eat it in. I'm not working on a frontline of anything, or by myself, or stuck in a lorry cab on the M20.
I hope you're OK. Whatever you do, or don't do, for Christmas: have a good one. [Originally posted at https://venta.dreamwidth.org/541339.html]
It's been obvious for a while that this wasn't going to be quite a normal Christmas. ChrisC and I booked an AirBnB in Darlington, because it seemed wiser to try and limit how much time we spent breathing on my parents. I've had lots of conversations with my parents since, and each time we felt like we should scale our expectations back a little (at one point the mother threatened to leave an insulated bag containing our Christmas dinner on the doorstep for us to collect... I *think* she was joking).
And then, last Saturday afternoon, London went abruptly into tier 4 and all our plans were cancelled.
We don't keep much Christmas in the flat, so have been carefully planning how to - in as few shopping trips as possible - acquire enough Christmas for two.
There were some logistical issues: our Christmas cake and Christmas dinner were in Darlington. We have food in the freezer here, so there was no imminent danger of us starving to death. But I felt it needed more Christmas.
I seemed to be reasonably well stocked with dried fruit, so set on to make a Christmas cake. The quantities in the recipe were massive, and I don't actually own a suitable cake tin, so I made a half-quantity in a loaf tin. It rose a bit too much, but definitely smelled like Christmas cake. It's now iced, and decorated with some plastic holly leaves that came off... I dunno, something. I've never almond-iced or royal-iced a cake before. It's kind of lumpy and absolutely wouldn't pass muster with the Sugarcraft Guild, but not to worry. All I actually needed to purchase was some marizpan, and some glycerin. Bonus points to ChrisC, who came in at a critical point and suggested I turn it upside down (which is, of course, what all people who want their cake to have a flat top do. In this case, it also meant the slopey sides sloped in a more sensible direction).
Our local deli was all sold out of Wensleydale to eat with it (boo!) but proffered me some Cornish Yarg instead. They even gave me a bit to nibble to verify I thought it was a suitable substitute. The lack of Wensleydale is disappointing, but honestly given the general vibe of this year if the worst thing about my Christmas is that I have the wrong kind of cheese to eat with my cake, then I will eat my Yarg and be grateful.
I've never cooked a Christmas dinner before, but I've been sous chef for my mother for years (decades!) and I cook roasts on a regular basis. So, it can't be that hard, right? A turkey for two seemed a bit ridiculous, so we have a chicken. We also have a ham which, due to some ineptitude on my part when I went to the butcher, is actually ridiculous. There will be compulsory ham sandwiches with every meal until at least Twelfth Night, and possibly Candlemas.
I haven't gone full Gantt chart on it, but I've written up a list of what has to go in the oven. Ovenspace is going to be the limiting factor, I think.
Oh, and for those who remember that we were trying to buy a new oven in about 2016, because ours was knackered: we didn't, and it still is. I'm sure it'll be fine.
In about November, more out of curiosity than anything else, I experimented with making Christmas puddings and made two small, 1-pint-pudding-basin puds. We ate one, and I was keeping the other with a vague plan to serve it to a pud-loving Small Friend who would be visiting with her parents between Christmas and New Year. As it is, no one will be visiting at all, and we will eat the pud (I have promised Small Friend I will make another for whenever she is allowed to venture this way).
There were issues of decor: we don't really own any Christmas decorations. Some years back, I tried to invent my own tradition of an advent tree. It's a small, wooden tree and each day I hang a small bauble on it. It now finds itself promoted to the job of Christmas tree (it seems a bit nervous, but it's doing fine). We've put the cards up, dancing round the flat to the CD of Christmas songs that usually goes into the car stereo for the drive. (I really recommend A Very Indie Christmas if you want a fun, non-standard Christmas song). We had vaguely intended to buy some tinsel, but none of our shopping trips took us to places where one could acquire same, and it didn't seem worth a special journey. I did buy a nice fir-and-pine-cones-thing-with-candle from the local florist (pick up from open coffee shop, pay at florist's door).
This afternoon, I chucked cider, apple juice, calvados, cinnamon and orange peel into the slow cooker, so the flat is beautifully decorated with nice smells. Also, I have mulled cider. Win.
Finally, there are issues of company. I was looking forward to seeing my family. All of us - but especially the family members who live alone - had been really looking forward to the bright lights of Christmas. These, sadly, are less readily fixed with a raid on the local shops.
We have Zoom, and we have phones. We have the ability to send photos and word games and so on back and forth. We even - despite the queues and the teetering piles of parcels - have a postal service that will get a box of stocking-fillers from here to Darlington in less than 24 hours for a few quid. I have a phone call with my family lined up, and a cryptic-crossword-Zoom with the outlaws, and a pyjama-Zoom on Boxing Day morning with my godfather. Various WhatsApp groups are busily buzzing as people share their Christmas cheer around.
It's not the Christmas I was expecting, but it'll be OK. I have a staggering amount to be grateful for: everyone I care about is healthy. I've got plenty to eat, and a warm place to eat it in. I'm not working on a frontline of anything, or by myself, or stuck in a lorry cab on the M20.
I hope you're OK. Whatever you do, or don't do, for Christmas: have a good one. [Originally posted at https://venta.dreamwidth.org/541339.html]