My family has been cultivating a new holiday tradition for the past few years. I will not say that we started small; we didn't. Yet we still seem to best ourselves every year. I am referring to our Christmas Eve feast. This year's menu: steamed mussels over a bed of tomatoes, sausage, and white beans; garlic shrimp; mushroom tartlets; butternut squash soup; French pot roast; roast chicken marinated with figs soaked in sweet Vermouth; capenata; the usual piles of mashed potatoes and dressing; and of course the inevitable pies (apple, pumpkin, pecan). I'm probably forgetting something(s). We made everything fresh from scratch. My brother-in-law and I started cooking on Saturday, spent most of Sunday in the kitchen as well, and did pretty much nothing on Monday but bump into each other as we careened around the kitchen in increasing states of frenzy and inebriation. Despite the chaos, all the dishes we prepared came out very, very well (a Christmas miracle, as far as I am concerned) and were well received by the group of 16 for whom we were cooking. I am of course getting hungry again just thinking about it.
I wanted to make a gingerbread outhouse for dessert, but didn't. I'd like to say that discretion got the better of me, but the truth is that I just didn't have time.
So NoRegrets meme tagged me a few weeks ago, and embarrassingly I still haven't the slightest idea what to write on most of the subjects... sorry! I was never very good at colouring inside the lines, I'm afraid.