{"id":41643,"date":"2018-12-23T17:28:35","date_gmt":"2018-12-23T17:28:35","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.flubu.com\/blog\/?p=41643"},"modified":"2018-12-23T17:28:57","modified_gmt":"2018-12-23T17:28:57","slug":"jay-rayner-on-christmas","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.flubu.com\/blog\/2018\/12\/23\/jay-rayner-on-christmas\/","title":{"rendered":"Jay Rayner on Christmas"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

How do you beat the Christmas blues? Take charge in the kitchen<\/strong><\/p>\n

Originally posted on The Guardian<\/a><\/p>\n

Like your first hangover and your first speeding ticket, cooking Christmas lunch for the first time is a rite of passage. It is a passing of the flame from one generation to the next, with added gravy. I remember mine as if it was 25 years ago. Two things stay with me. One was my late mother\u2019s nod of approval at the sweet and sour red cabbage. It wasn\u2019t her red cabbage. It could never be hers. But it did deserve to be eaten. That was praise enough.<\/p>\n

The other memory was the admin. Blimey, it was complicated. I had to write timetables, like I was revising for A-levels all over again, only with a greater risk of humiliation through failure. Pinned up by the fridge magnets were documents that had taken on the significance of holy scripture: \u201c12 noon \u2013 potatoes in; 1.30pm, bird out\u201d. And so on. When it was all done and the kitchen was festooned in edible wreckage, I took the applause and muttered quietly about not making a habit of it.<\/p>\n

And yet, come year two I was in the kitchen again, right up to my wrist in the turkey. It was the same the next year and the year after that. For, somewhere along the way, I had made a quiet but astonishing discovery, one most Christmas Day cooks will recognise but never acknowledge.<\/p>\n

Courtesy of natural justice, you also get let off the washing up. It is a big, hearty bundle of wins
\nThey don\u2019t want to be found out, because intriguingly it goes against the spirit of Christmas itself. It is this: cooking Christmas lunch is a glorious way to absent yourself from the nightmare of Christmas; from the weird, twisted dynamic of one long day crammed together with your family.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s perfect. There has to be a Christmas lunch. Whoever cooks it is seen as performing a selfless service. Look at them toiling over the sprouts and the parsnips and the roasties and the pigs in blankets and no really, I\u2019m fine, you go back in there and relax. I\u2019ve got this. If you are up to the job, spending the first few hours of the day locked in the kitchen, can be much more pleasurable than tolerating your racist auntie. Plus, courtesy of natural justice, you get let off the washing up. It is a big, hearty bundle of wins.<\/p>\n

It took me a while to clock that my mother had pulled this trick throughout my childhood. She hated her own in-laws but also knew they had to be there. She had a two-pronged approach to the problem. The first was to invite an enormous number of people. Christmas Day in our house could have up to 30 people at the table, mostly gay men, Jews and actors: gay men, because in the 70s, sadly, many of them had mislaid their families; Jews because they weren\u2019t really meant to be marking the pagan feast at all so were always free, and actors because they were caught between performances of panto on Christmas Eve and Boxing Day and couldn\u2019t get back to their own families. Many of them were gay Jewish actors.<\/p>\n

Having hidden my paternal grandparents in this relentlessly jazz-hands crowd, she disappeared into the kitchen, guaranteeing she was as far away from them as possible. Now I\u2019ve described this, of course, the game is up. So, here\u2019s what you do. This year, come the big day, don\u2019t let them get away with it. Everybody should set up camp in the kitchen telling the self-absenting cook that you don\u2019t want them to feel left out. It will drive them completely nuts. Merry Christmas.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

My 10 Christmas food commandments<\/strong><\/p>\n

Originally posted on The Guardian<\/a><\/p>\n

Having last year formulated 10 general food commandments, I feel uniquely placed to have a crack at 10 for Christmas. You can ignore them if you like, but on your own head be it.<\/p>\n

One<\/strong> Thou shalt not mistake Nigella, Mary and Jamie for the Lord, thy God. Those Christmas specials are only TV programmes. They\u2019re entertainment, not a blueprint for how your Christmas is meant to be. Yours won\u2019t be anything like that because you don\u2019t have battalions of home economists to knock up the food and set designers to decorate the house. Even Nigella\u2019s won\u2019t be like that.<\/p>\n

Two<\/strong> Thou shalt not always make your own. There is no shame in buying ready-made bread sauce or mince pies. That\u2019s why supermarket new product development units were invented.<\/p>\n

Three<\/strong> If you\u2019re the cook on Christmas Day thou shalt have first crack at the sausages and bacon as they come out of the oven.<\/p>\n

Four<\/strong> Thou shalt not feel compelled to make every side dish ever invented. Roast potatoes, and one other vegetable, two at a push. No more. What are you trying to prove? That you\u2019re a whizz at Oven Tetris? No one will judge you. As long as there\u2019s gravy everything will be fine. (This last rule applies all year round.)<\/p>\n

Five<\/strong> Thou shalt not wear a stupid hat during lunch if thou doesn\u2019t want to. Even if the children whine at you for being a spoilsport. Children need to learn that one of the pleasures of adulthood is not having to do stupid things.<\/p>\n

Six<\/strong> Thou shalt not serve Christmas pudding, at least not on Christmas Day. Nobody likes it. And even if they do, by the time you get to dessert at Christmas lunch nobody has any space. All they want is jelly. Make jelly and if anyone complains, tell them Moses made you. If you must serve Christmas pudding, wait until the week between Christmas and New Year, buy it up cheap, steam it, then fry it in bacon fat. You\u2019ll thank me. I\u2019m a biblical prophet; I know what I\u2019m talking about.<\/p>\n

Seven<\/strong> Thou shalt eat trifle for breakfast on Boxing Day. It\u2019s Christmas. The usual rules do not apply.<\/p>\n

Eight<\/strong> Thou shalt not be embarrassed about making exactly the same things from leftovers as you always do. Yes, your turkey curry is awful. It\u2019s always been awful. But tradition is important and your awful turkey curry is one of them. Stop trying to re-invent the wheel. Though don\u2019t make that turkey risotto thing with the frozen peas again. That really is a crime against food.<\/p>\n

Nine<\/strong> Thou shalt drink Bailey\u2019s, though only at this time of year. Drinking it at any other time of year marks you out as having the palate of a seven-year-old. Drinking it at Christmas defines you as sweet and sentimental.<\/p>\n

And finally, ten<\/strong> Thou shalt have a meltdown if thou wants to. In theory Christmas is a delightful festival, a time to draw near to your loved ones. In practice it\u2019s a bloody nightmare, a breeding ground for recrimination and, eventually, divorce. Far better to get it all out there. Other than that, it\u2019s peace and goodwill all the way. Merry Christmas everyone. And you\u2019re welcome.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

How do you beat the Christmas blues? Take charge in the kitchen Originally posted on The Guardian Like your first hangover and your first speeding ticket, cooking Christmas lunch for the first time is a rite of passage. It is a passing of the flame from one generation to the next, with added gravy. I…<\/p>\n

Read More “Jay Rayner on Christmas”<\/span> »<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[140],"class_list":["post-41643","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-christmas"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p3u9vK-aPF","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.flubu.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/41643","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.flubu.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.flubu.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.flubu.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.flubu.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=41643"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.flubu.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/41643\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":41685,"href":"https:\/\/www.flubu.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/41643\/revisions\/41685"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.flubu.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=41643"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.flubu.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=41643"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.flubu.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=41643"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}