Eddie’s food frustrations: the accumulation of food at Christmas

Adeline (nickname: Eddie) loves food, lots of it and often, both at home and out and about. Usually that goes well, but sometimes it doesn’t. In the series Eddie’s food frustrations you can read about the latter. This time: that overload of food at Christmas.

Christmas is a complicated thing. In my world, at least. It’s cosy and a mad dash from one family to another. It’s putting on a festive front and secretly wanting to watch all the Lord of the Rings and Hobbit films in your pyjamas. It’s delicious and often a lot and a lot and way too much. Because people, where on earth did the idea come from that you suddenly feel like having five courses, three times a day?

Bravely making it through yet another course

Was it really Christmas morning if you hadn’t wolfed down a three-course breakfast? Was it really Christmas Eve without piles of Christmas bread spread with almond paste and butter in the middle of the night after Mass? Was it really Christmas Day, Boxing Day and often even the third day of Christmas if you didn’t have to put on a slightly wider Christmas dress each day, because the waistband of your trousers had long since given up the ghost?

But girl, why don’t you just eat a little less? No, no, you know better than that. You don’t do that either, because the crème de la crème and the best-massaged piece of meat from the butcher are put on the table. Accompanied by a sauce that has almost split, probably with a little nervous sweat stirred into it during the blind panic of preparation. Just try refusing then. Not wanting to disappoint anyone, you gamely pick up your knife and fork again and bravely smile your way through yet another, often slightly too complicated course.

Exuding roasting fat

Honestly, combinations also often appear on the table that leave you feeling a little confused yourself. If chocolate sauce on your steak were a good idea, you’d eat it every week. Right? But fine, it’s Christmas. Just like the litres of wine all that food has to swim in. I do encourage that, by the way, because we could all use a little fortifying drink with our dr.. uh.. dinner. Meanwhile, the Christmas chef in question has a minor mental breakdown in the kitchen, and that really completes the Christmas celebrations.

The day after Christmas, I always sit there intensely satisfied, getting through an unremarkable soup and some plain vegetables. It feels as though all that roasting fat still needs to seep out of my pores a little. Very gross, yes, but that’s simply the downside of Christmas. If you’re even more unlucky, you’ll have to wash your hair an extra five times to get rid of the gourmet smell. And by the time it’s gone, it’s New Year’s Eve. The whole circus starts all over again.

Merry Christmas, eh.

Also read:

• Can we stop selling food in the shape of Christmas trees?
• Types at the Christmas table
• You’ll want to make these edible Christmas baubles from Allerhande now and hang them in your tree