yuletide feasting

If you don't like Christmas, look away now. This post is one long, unashamed description of a traditional Christmas lunch. Which I love.

My wider family agreed to discontinue the million-way gift giving we formerly went in for, whilst my immediate family had a challenge to buy gifts only from charity shops. Both were most successful ventures with some ingenious gifts - and one or two naughty aunts transgressing, with the excuse that hand-made gifts don't count. My store cupboard consequently benefits from a small Christmas pudding and pots of jam, whilst my toes are now toasty in bed thanks to a delightful hand-sewn hot water bottle cover!

Mrs I invented a new Christmas Eve tradition some years back, whereby we have smoked salmon on wholemeal bread, with wedges of lemon to squeeze over. A grown up luxury which marked us young ones moving from childhood into the realm of adults. This year we also indulged in the local church's nativity (in which my goddaughter charmed as one of the three Kings) and games of charades and home-bingo.

Christmas morning breakfast is an even more ingrained tradition of chocolate coins followed by a wrestle in the street (don't ask). Lunchtime prosecco makes things more civilised and lunch follows shortly after. This year was Mrs I's most favoured option: ham cooked the day before so that we could have slices of ham and turkey together - in addition to the usual pigs in blankets (chipolatas wrapped in bacon) and fabulous apricot, lemon and walnut stuffing.

We never stint on sauces. There was bread sauce cooked with an onion and cloves; cranberry sauce made with the easy additions of orange zest and juice, and a shake of sugar (not too much, we like it tart); and some hearty gravy.

Vegetables abounded. Roast potatoes and parsnips, mashed swede, sprouts... all the favourites. It seems paradoxical to wait until the largest meal of the year to follow it with the heaviest pudding, however tradition is tradition and I can never say no to Christmas pudding. I adore it. Incredibly rich as it is, it is always paired with custard and clotted cream - and an instruction from Mrs I to watch for the silver charms!

I love the ceremony, the anticipation and the feast itself: the leftovers are just a continuation of the joy. Never will you hear family I complain about cold turkey, except to bemoan it being finished!