Twas the night before Christmas Forget the day itself, Christmas Eve is the night for feasting, writes expat Frenchwoman and reporter Cecile Meier.
Ilove a lot things about the casual Kiwi lifestyle, but when it comes to Christmas you’re doing it all wrong. It’s not entirely your fault. The seasons are the wrong way around for starters, and there is nothing you can do about that.
In France, where I am from, it is deliciously dark and cold, and there might even be snow on Christmas Eve.
Here, the main event might be Christmas ‘‘lunch’’ – or most likely, a barbecue, but if you want to call that lunch, fine – but Christmas Eve is where it’s at for the French.
I remember the wonderful sense of anticipation around the Christmas Eve dinner in my family home. The open fire was roaring as children helped set the table with the best crockery and butter the canapes while my mum and grandma assembled the feast to come.
In my family we rarely ate expensive foods but, for Christmas, we went all out.
It would usually start about 6pm with Champagne for the adults and smoked salmon canapes. Then we would all sit at the table for oysters with sourdough bread and salted butter, and the foie gras.
There was a real sense of occasion to it, and we spent a lot of time at the dinner table commenting on how fresh the oysters were, how fragrant the foie gras was and how the smoked salmon melted in the mouth. The roast turkey was never really exciting itself – the challenge was to make it as moist as possible – the chestnut stuffing was the real star of the dish.
A bit of salad with a cheese assortment would follow before dessert.
La Buche de Noel – a roll of light sponge cake, covered in chocolate or coffee butter cream textured to resemble bark as an evocation of the ancient tradition of burning the Yule log – was another hotly debated item in the menu.
Some wanted as much butter, chocolate and sugar in it as possible, while others preferred a lighter version.
Once, I made my family do a vegetarian Christmas.
I insisted we ditched salmon, turkey, foie gras and oysters for a sort of vegetable gratin.
The fact that I convinced them to go with this is a true testament to my powers of persuasion – or perhaps of their love for me.
Nonetheless, everyone spent the whole evening complaining and, years later, my parents and siblings still bring up the ordeal.
When we were young and still believed in Santa, we waited until the next morning to open the presents.
The Christmas Eve dinner was a lovely way to build up the anticipation.
When we got older, we opened the presents after dinner, by the fireplace under candle light.
In Europe, Christmas helps pull us through winter. The markets, the fairy lights, the hot wine, and grilled chestnuts sold in the streets warm up