I’m fascinated by the history and mythology of Christmas. Up until the 1890’s, most English families if they were lucky, ate goose; turkey was a luxury only enjoyed by the few. The Anglo-American Christmas, as we know and love it today, is really a Victorian invention: influenced by the sentiment of Charles Dicken’s A Christmas Carol, Prince Albert’s cosy family celebrations at Windsor; and in the last century, the schmaltz of Hollywood movies such as Frank Capra’s It’s a Wonderful Life.
One of the most appealing things about the traditional British Christmas is an old-fashioned York Ham- dry cured with salt, saltpetre, juniper berries and pepper, and then matured for about six weeks. I have to admit to preferring it to the ubiquitous turkey. Almost. And when it’s on your plate in impossibly thin slices topped with a tangy Cumberland sauce, the world suddenly becomes an exceedingly good place.
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