Our house, in the days of old, became a different kind of place around the Christmas season. It started with the baking, the making of pastry dough, which my mother had down to perfection; a craft few can do. She would use this dough to make many assorted goodies, one of which was Joe’s Meat Pie, named after her father. It was made with beef, onions, carrots, various other ingredients and spices. It was a dish he found the most delicious. Mom would make huge pies and serve them to guests over the holidays, either at parties or for dinner. Those pies were famous amongst family and friends.
The kitchen was small and yet Mom had the magic touch in that tiny space. She could produce the most amazing things with flour, butter and sugar. And there were always pans of her nuts and bolts and cheese straws. All sorts of her fruit pies – apple, strawberry and blueberry – were frozen in her giant freezer in the garage.
Mom and Dad were masters at being hosts. At parties, and in particular le Réveillon on Christmas Eve, Mom would cook up a ham and roast beef or a turkey with all the trimmings. Dad looked after the bar – rye, rum, whiskey, vodka, gin, beer and wine for dinner. And of course his favorite apéritif. He loved those tiny glasses and the rich taste of Irish cream. And the parties were always alive with music! My parents’ friends were all so talented and could play the piano or guitar or both. And the singing and dancing! I would sit on the stairs when I was very young until I was old enough to join in the festivities that lasted into the wee hours. It was always a treat to listen to the merriment! 
At midnight Mom would start bringing out trays and platters of food, and would lay down a feast amongst the candles and linens and branches of sweet-smelling pine. No expense was spared when it came to le Réveillon. There were beans with almonds and mushroom sauce, turnips and yams and mashed potatoes so creamy they would melt in your mouth, and broccoli au gratin made with old cheddar cheese. Mom never scrimped on butter or cheese. Her famous CCC (Chocolate Chip Cookies), oatmeal cookies, peanut butter cookies, chocolate candy and roasted almonds were always plentiful. She would let me taste a cookie in the dining room with her; we would chat while I ate my cookie and she had a smoke break. Her tomato aspic was something I always remember but could never quite understand why someone would eat it. Every dish was prepared with love and a thankfulness for all the people who sat around that table.
Those were the days of Christmas filled with such sweet and wonderful smells coming from the kitchen. Those are the moments in time that are kept close in my heart. Memories of my mom, who could cook up a storm, rest in my heart and give me a good feeling. It’s the feeling of what Christmas means to me: good food, family and friends sharing in those special moments. I hope I’ve been a part of my children’s Christmas landscape just like my parents were a part of mine; traditions passed down to keep those special moments alive for generations to come.
Photo Credits
Photos courtesy of Martha Farley – all rights reserved
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