My earliest
memories of Christmas dinner were with my aunt and cousins. My parents, brother and I would open Christmas
presents and then pile into the car and head to my aunt’s house 2 hours away. She’d have this ginormous spread. A turkey at one end of this huge table and a
ham at the other. In between was every
side you could imagine. And among the
many dessert offerings there was always a box of Turtles.
As I got
older it was my mother who presided over the Christmas feast. Her infamous Bruno’s turkey roll, stuffing
from Pusateri’s, and a Christmas tablescape worthy of a Harper’s Bazaar photo
shoot. The meal was served on Christmas eve and
Christmas crackers were de rigueur; dinner was always late and always fabulous,
and my brother and I spent hours cleaning up afterwards. None of her good
dishes could go in the dishwasher.
Now that I
have a family of my own, I’ve had the luxury of eating Christmas dinner hosted
by my mother-in-law and my sisters-in-law.
All of them fantastic cooks. I’ve
even been known to cook a mean Christmas roast myself. My in-laws’ meals are always on time and
always delicious. Mine, by the grace of who knows what deity, have always been
good but seldom on time. These days my
boys spend hours cleaning up afterwards. Usually because they start horsing
around. My good dishes are dishwasher
safe.
I’ve
adopted my mother’s Christmas eve Christmas dinner tradition. That way you never have to get out of your
pajamas on Christmas day. I’m always
delighted at the faces I see around the table.
And I’ve managed to convince them all to wear Christmas crackers. This was not something my husband grew up
with. To this day while putting on his
paper crown he’ll mention that he does not get it. The first time I brought them to my mother-in-law’s she gamely placed them at each setting without judgement and then wore
the paper crown and read her joke out loud.
Sometimes
the tables are big, sometimes small, and the people around them all work hard
to make this dinner a great dinner. All
those families and friends, all that effort, all these wonderful memories.
I love a Christmas dinner.
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| My table only looks like this when my mother is in charge |
