The 1990s comedy series the Royle Family includes a perfect scene in which Barbara says she won’t bother getting a turkey the following year, as nobody actually likes it. Everyone looks horrified. But she’s right. Advocaat, mince pies, Christmas pudding, Christmas cake (especially the marzipan) cranberry sauce, and balls of sausage meat made into stuffing – there is a very good reason why we tend only to eat and drink certain things at Christmas.
Never buy a cheese selection, because among the mediocre bits and pieces, there is bound to be some abomination
That said, I am aware that certain ingredients are staples in some households. Boiled carrots and sprouts, for example, which – for some unknown reason – appear on Sunday lunch menus week in, week out. In my view, vegetables should never see water, other than through the perforations of a steamer.
Chocolate log is perfectly pleasant but should not be bought from a supermarket – make your own mousse from scratch instead. It’s very easy, and you can, if you like, add a slug of brandy or Cointreau. There’s no point to brandy cream or brandy custard, which taste industrialised and are full of chemicals. Dried fruit and nuts constitute a culinary rights violation – dates included.
Cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg may well have their place in normal recipes on occasion, but not all together – and certainly not as a flavouring for sweet things. Eggnog is never acceptable. If you want to feel that you’re celebrating and have something special that you wouldn’t normally have, try a champagne cocktail.
If you drink decent brandy, single malt or gin throughout the year, make it special and shell out on a top quality bottle. The trick is not to eat and drink the things you know you don’t like, just because they are traditional Christmas fare, but to up the game on the things you really love.
Carrots should be sliced at a diagonal, cooked quickly in very hot sesame oil with a few grinds of black pepper and sea salt, and then at the very end, when they are browned on both sides, covered with a splash of sherry vinegar. Sprouts can be halved, and then cooked very slowly in a little butter, with a few fresh thyme flowers and a squirt of fresh orange juice. Once they are al dente, they are ready.
I love parsnips, which I oven roast very slowly under foil in a little honey and Dijon mustard mixed with white pepper.
I usually cook duck for Christmas day, and roast the potatoes in its fat. But I never cook too many, as I don’t buy the whole ‘they are great cold the next day’ nonsense. From this meal, the only leftover I believe in is the duck, because when shredded and added to watermelon, beansprouts, and other crunchy vegetables and dressed with soy, rice wine vinegar, and chilli, it makes a delicious Vietnamese-style salad.
Never buy a cheese selection, because among the mediocre bits and pieces, there is bound to be some abomination such as cranberry-flavoured Wensleydale – which should go straight in the bin. You will also find a slice of substandard brie that will smell like a pair of old trainers. And don’t buy those awful water biscuits – make your own parmesan crisps. All it takes is a load of grated cheese, some black pepper and a teaspoon of mustard powder.
I’ve reserved my final disdainful word for pigs in blankets, which are just substandard mini-sausages wrapped in streaky bacon. Why would anyone want half of a full English breakfast with their roast dinner?
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