The girl next door
Our food columnist, Karen Dudley of Woodstock’s The Kitchen, reflects on Christmas spent with loved ones.
Styling Photographs
We gather from far and near around tables dressed for Christmas. It’s shorts and sandals weather.
On Christmas Eve, we have dinner with my parents Ruth and Bernard, my brother and his family. The location has changed from one family home to another but the formula is comfortingly similar: lots of crackers and streamers, familiar carols played from ancient records, usually a short reading of the Christmas story, and pleas from us all for my mother to join us around the table, while she fusses in the kitchen around snacks and the carving of a roast. Wherever my family are, this is home!
Christmas Day, for the past decade and a half, has been spent at the end of the peninsula in Zeekoevlei. Yes, the home of those roasted potatoes! Somehow, being near the water exerts an easy, tranquil atmosphere.
In the very early ’90s, I was the girl next door – never imagining that one day I would share my life (and Christmas lunch) with my Zeekoevlei neighbours! David’s mom and I used to chat on the lawn (not much by way of fences with these water people). I’d bring over experimental muffins and David, now my Sweetheart, and I were friends. So, of course, I have a great fondness for Zeekoevlei, where my husband spent an idyllic childhood sailing and playing in the reeds and where I spent one or two very happy years in my waterside bungalow, a hammock strung on the stoep. I would never have dreamt that I’d be here on a balmy Christmas Day with my laid-back family, eating lunch while the odd pelican, oblivious to our quiet Christmas cheer, floats by.
Within the circle of gathered family we give ourselves permission to look at the year that has been. Often, there are highlights to celebrate. Sometimes, the season feels laden with loss, still more apparent for the gaps in the circle where a loved one used to be.
In review, we consider the good things: that we kept going, that we found pleasure in simple things, that we made new friends and that we chose to learn from our failures. We glow a little in our children’s triumphs and sigh that we’ve made some small progress towards our goals.
We are thankful that we have more work and adventure ahead of us and that all is possible if we do not give in to hatred and fear.
Christmas is all about nostalgia. It seems every flavour and tradition has layers of patina from customs rich and varied. Distinct flavours are connected to distinct memories. Dark meat turkey with cranberry sauce, gravy, peas and roasted potatoes… the year that two-year-old Ben ate all the gingerbread Christmas decorations off the lower branches of the tree… the year Grandpa Noel carved the turkey with the knife I had given him for Christmas… the year the puppies made off with (and destroyed) my brand new sneakers… the carols sung… the hilarity of the gift game… my mother’s brandy butter that makes everything good… the slightly moth-eaten Christmas stockings…
One thing is for sure, we want to focus on what’s important and spend less time on the peripherals. We don’t have to be bound by northern European traditions either; my menu for you this Christmas is all about easy South African entertaining. Much can be prepared beforehand and then laid out as a spread. No last minute flapping, giving you maximum time to spend with loved ones.
While salmon may seem indulgent, it is unfailingly popular and great for a celebration. It’s also rich, so a little goes a long way, it presents festively and it’s ideal for serving at room temperature. Perfect!
email@karendudley.co.za