Obviously, any of you that actually know me either in person or via this blog will be aware of my potentially unhealthy obsession with all things festive.
Being ill has meant that my unwillingly forced pre-crimbo detox has only heightened this excitement to new levels. I have two advent calendars. One choccie courtesy of the Boyfriend who pitied my father's choice of a picture only calendar (which I secretly LOVE - a remnant of our mother's incredibly strict views on confectionary). The Boyfriend and I have bought a lovely selection of Christmas decorations (thanks to his sister's generous housewarming vouchers) and even looked at Christmas trees this week.
I'm currently putting the finishing touches to the preparations for the annual Christmas dinner with us and our friends (secret santa organisation takes time!) and have just invited some friends round to ours for an evening of festive songs, mince pies, mulled wine and (a newly discovered favourite last year) Winter Pimms (normal Pimms but with wintery clove flavours and a lot of brandy served warm with apple juice - AMAZING).
I shall be making my own mince pies, and found a lovely Delia recipe using filo pastry and making the mince pies into mince crackers! For me this sounds very exciting and shall be debuted next week. I shall let you know the results.
I am also going to attempt my own Yule Log (basically a swiss roll surely?) and although I have missed stir up Sunday, I may even attempt a Christmas cake.....
Oh the possibilities are endless!
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Tuesday, 30 November 2010
Sunday, 31 January 2010
Sunday Blues
I have always been a victim of the Sunday Blues. Part of it is my fault - i've always been excitable, and therefore have always really looked forward to the weekends, have planned lots of things I love, and packed lots of activities in. And so on Sunday, when it is over, I feel a huge sense of anti-climax.
The other problem is that I have often worked Sunday evenings, and while I now no longer do (more or less) the sinking feeling of having the weekend cut short, of dreading work, stays on.
But today I spent my Sunday as it should be, as, I believe, God intended. I woke up late, went to the gym (hence feeling ever so slightly righteous) and went with the Boyfriend to meet some friends. We sat in a pub, watching football, chatting, eating Sunday food, and drinking good wine. And then we left and went to another pub where we did more of the same.
As we came home on the bus, falling asleep on the Boyfriend, I felt so contented. Full, sleepy, and with not a touch of the usual Sunday Blues. I shall be spending more of my Sundays like this.
The other problem is that I have often worked Sunday evenings, and while I now no longer do (more or less) the sinking feeling of having the weekend cut short, of dreading work, stays on.
But today I spent my Sunday as it should be, as, I believe, God intended. I woke up late, went to the gym (hence feeling ever so slightly righteous) and went with the Boyfriend to meet some friends. We sat in a pub, watching football, chatting, eating Sunday food, and drinking good wine. And then we left and went to another pub where we did more of the same.
As we came home on the bus, falling asleep on the Boyfriend, I felt so contented. Full, sleepy, and with not a touch of the usual Sunday Blues. I shall be spending more of my Sundays like this.
Tuesday, 8 December 2009
Countdown to Christmas: Christmas Dinner
Every year since the very start of university we have cooked a Christmas dinner. And every year it is fraught with trials and tribulations; the carrots are not in batons but circles, there is not enough gravy, there is too much gravy, there are brussel sprouts, we forgot yorkshires, the oven is too small, the turkey has not defrosted in time, etc. But every year it all pulls together, and everyone arrives, and sits down, and shuts up, and we have a wonderful dinner til we are full with food, drink and laughter.
And this year was no different. After the necessary disaster (no Christmas dinner is complete without one) of the turkey going off, and needing to get a new one, the Wiganer arrived safely (she was my sous chef), we went shopping, made mince pies (see previous blog) and got ready for the epic feat of cooking Christmas dinner for 12.
The first hurdle was the turkey. It was a beast of a bird, weighing in at 7.4kg. And this year we decided to steam it. So we lifted it into the disposable roasting dish (M&S £1.99 and worth every penny) and I filled it with my homemade stuffing (again, totally worth doing as it was delicious) and surrounded it with onions, garlic, celery, wine and stock. And covered it with butter and bacon.
Turkey was then popped into the oven, where he stayed for 3 hours straight. We didn't need to baste him once, and he was juicy and yum, and not dry one little bit.
While turkey was cooking we peeled (thank God I got the peeler; many of the carrots peeled by knife looked as though they had barely survived a massacre) and chopped (discovering in the process how tough parsnips really are- we bent one knife just trying to hack one in half) and prepared everything else until all we had to do was roast/boil/bake/heat up everything.
Next we did the tree. With an owl on the top (we have no star or angel). Wearing tinsel bandannas/belts. And singing along to Christmas songs, courtesy of the Wiganer (although, along with the classics - Mariah, Wham, etc, we were also treated to Elvis "I ain't nothing but a reindeer" and some very Catholic hymns) until the house looked festive to the extreme.
Lastly we did the table. Now, the Christmas table is important. Everything, from the decor, to the seating plan, to the amount of elbow space allotted per seat needs to be considered. I'd bought a second table - a gateleg (yes, a technical table term - it has flaps and folds out) one from ebay - £7, to add to otherwise inadequate table (which seats 6 at a very tight sqeeze). They were both then covered with tablecloths (easy cleaning) and each place was set with a napkin, and cracker (although not everyone had a knife - we were one short, but the helpful boyfriend managed to supply an extra). And I sprinkled some fairy sequins/confetti over everything (and yes they were fairies, not weird bugs, thank you guests that greeted the table with "Oh! Where did you find mosquito shaped confetti"). And finally arranged the varied assortment of chairs (I drew the short straw and was left with IKEA's cheapest "stool" - otherwise known as an upsidedown bucket.
By the time all of this was done, the turkey was brown (pour on melted butter and roast minus the tinfoil for 20mins), and it was time to move on to the rest of the vast feast. We did the veg, and the potatoes, and the stuffing (3kinds) and sausages and yorkshires, and gravy. And by the time everyone had arrived (the latest arrivals being the ones that lived the closest) and everyone was seated, we served up like mega-glam dinner ladies (bowls of things on the tables would simply not fit).
And then we were all sat down, and it was ready to eat,
drink,
and be merry...
And sitting there, with everyone chatting and eating and drinking and laughing, I really felt a true sense of happiness, derived from the achievement of cooking a roast for 12, of everyone being there, of no major fire-related incidents (granted, there was one, but it was negligible) and of seeing everyone, old friends, new friends, boyfriends and best friends.
And this year was no different. After the necessary disaster (no Christmas dinner is complete without one) of the turkey going off, and needing to get a new one, the Wiganer arrived safely (she was my sous chef), we went shopping, made mince pies (see previous blog) and got ready for the epic feat of cooking Christmas dinner for 12.
The first hurdle was the turkey. It was a beast of a bird, weighing in at 7.4kg. And this year we decided to steam it. So we lifted it into the disposable roasting dish (M&S £1.99 and worth every penny) and I filled it with my homemade stuffing (again, totally worth doing as it was delicious) and surrounded it with onions, garlic, celery, wine and stock. And covered it with butter and bacon.
Turkey was then popped into the oven, where he stayed for 3 hours straight. We didn't need to baste him once, and he was juicy and yum, and not dry one little bit.
While turkey was cooking we peeled (thank God I got the peeler; many of the carrots peeled by knife looked as though they had barely survived a massacre) and chopped (discovering in the process how tough parsnips really are- we bent one knife just trying to hack one in half) and prepared everything else until all we had to do was roast/boil/bake/heat up everything.
Next we did the tree. With an owl on the top (we have no star or angel). Wearing tinsel bandannas/belts. And singing along to Christmas songs, courtesy of the Wiganer (although, along with the classics - Mariah, Wham, etc, we were also treated to Elvis "I ain't nothing but a reindeer" and some very Catholic hymns) until the house looked festive to the extreme.
Lastly we did the table. Now, the Christmas table is important. Everything, from the decor, to the seating plan, to the amount of elbow space allotted per seat needs to be considered. I'd bought a second table - a gateleg (yes, a technical table term - it has flaps and folds out) one from ebay - £7, to add to otherwise inadequate table (which seats 6 at a very tight sqeeze). They were both then covered with tablecloths (easy cleaning) and each place was set with a napkin, and cracker (although not everyone had a knife - we were one short, but the helpful boyfriend managed to supply an extra). And I sprinkled some fairy sequins/confetti over everything (and yes they were fairies, not weird bugs, thank you guests that greeted the table with "Oh! Where did you find mosquito shaped confetti"). And finally arranged the varied assortment of chairs (I drew the short straw and was left with IKEA's cheapest "stool" - otherwise known as an upsidedown bucket.
By the time all of this was done, the turkey was brown (pour on melted butter and roast minus the tinfoil for 20mins), and it was time to move on to the rest of the vast feast. We did the veg, and the potatoes, and the stuffing (3kinds) and sausages and yorkshires, and gravy. And by the time everyone had arrived (the latest arrivals being the ones that lived the closest) and everyone was seated, we served up like mega-glam dinner ladies (bowls of things on the tables would simply not fit).
And then we were all sat down, and it was ready to eat,
drink,
and be merry...
And sitting there, with everyone chatting and eating and drinking and laughing, I really felt a true sense of happiness, derived from the achievement of cooking a roast for 12, of everyone being there, of no major fire-related incidents (granted, there was one, but it was negligible) and of seeing everyone, old friends, new friends, boyfriends and best friends.
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