Christmas Traditions
My neighbor puts up a “countdown to Christmas” display every year. The festive sight draws children and adults alike posing for photos—just as I’ve done before. Now it’s a red, glowing reminder of how little time I have left to plan and prepare the Christmas meal.
I used to feel increasing joy each day as the countdown numbers declined. Preparations were clear, definite, almost automatic. Homecomings plans were prepared. Couches and cots allocated.
Now as the red glowing numbers decrease, my anxiety grows. The smaller numbers only wake my fears. Expose modern uncertainty.
Each time we walk past the changing number, my dog acts as if she too can feel the sweat collecting on my hoodie covered back. She literally turns around on the sidewalk and takes our walk into the opposite direction.
A consummate Virgo, I run my life with plans, lists and schedules. Hell, I had my decorations up before Thanksgiving.
Simply stated, I am not ready for Christmas.
The traditions are changing, and I am a curmudgeon.
Growing up in controlled chaos, we embraced the customs of our parents. They designed the menu; the time we gathered and let us know when we were overstaying our welcome. I shared my mom’s overcooked turkey story with you, so when I took over in the kitchen, she asked for a tenderloin. Hence a new family tradition.
She set the tone and chose the path.
Yesterday I stopped at the local meat market to order a beef tenderloin-our traditional Christmas fare, and the person behind the counter told me they were only ordering prime rib. I told them I don’t cook prime rib at Christmas. I may have ordered one for New Years, but right now I need a tenderloin.
“Sorry,” the kid said, “my only option is prime rib.” Imagine my shock that the local meat market was not going to grant my Christmas wish.
I know this is a first-world problem and complaining about the type of beef may seem a tad entitled. But it has been a tradition, a once-a-year purchase, for 30+ years.
It was born from the love between a Mom and daughter. The meal reminds me of our past holidays together. We lost her over Christmas in 2019.
I suppose I could drive to another market outside of town, but what do I do with the Velcro pup while I am gone for four or five hours? Mail-order just seems too sterile, foreign, and untraditional. Plus, as a chef, I want to inspect the whole loin before I spend that kind of money.
The two-day sauce I make for the beef, one you can drink like a cocktail, is off the table. The ends used to make beef bourguignon is no longer an option. The actual seared, seasoned and roasted center cut tenderloin, cooked to medium rare is persona non grata.
Crispy bacon-stuffed twice baked potatoes, wedge salad and a French Bordeaux will be taboo if not served with the tender cut of meat.
No, faced with these roadblocks, I must now create-on my own-a new tradition.
New traditions can be scary, perhaps I’ll retain the wine to hang on to the memory of the old tradition. I will not share it, just enjoy it as I focus on the task at hand.
The Christmas meal seems to have gone the way of mailed holiday cards sent in envelopes and caroling door-to-door.
I may as well forget about stringing popcorn and hanging mistletoe. Why bother lighting the yule log? In fact, I am not going to bake one either.
The best part of tradition is that we embrace the “expected”. We pass down, from generation to generation, the sameness of the holiday. With each traditional holiday we passed down our family unity and somehow shared the embrace of all those in our family who came before us.
It took years to learn how everyone wanted their beef served. I had the meal down to a science and was able to spend time out of the kitchen.
I had a vegan steer off their diet just to try my meal-another Christmas miracle.
The younger generation better be ready for a new tradition, because this one is no longer an option.
I need only walk next door and see the flashing red number to know how much time I have left.
The bigger question is, will everyone eat seafood?
Who else walks past those glowing numbers and feels the trepidation?
I want to thank J. Vandervest for editing and content clarity. The poetic portions of the piece should be attributed to him.
Happy Holidays. May your traditions ring true this season.
— Sally
PS: If you are interested in the recipe for my two-day sauce, I would be happy to share. Simply reply to this email.
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