Food writers and magazines love a twist at Christmas. Harissa turkey. Black forest trifle. Jerk-spiced ham. I’ve made them all for various publications.
And yet, when it comes to the big day at home, I stick to a fairly traditional menu. The reasons for this are - as I’m sure they are for many people - my own nostalgia, as well as what my family wants.
However, unlike many people, I love the marathon of cooking Christmas lunch. It helps that I’ve cooked dozens, if not hundreds, for ad campaigns (20 turkeys at a time! Ten kilos of roast potatoes!), private events, magazine and book photoshoots, as well as for friends and family.
So if you dread the preparation, or find yourself in charge of the festive kitchen for the first time, let me share with you a few key tips I’ve picked up along the way.
And in the moments it all seems overwhelming, remember, this is essentially Sunday roast, but with benefits. And a lot of those benefits can be made in advance.
The weeks before
What are you going to eat? Decide this well in advance (including the pudding, see below), tell your family or guests what to expect, and say if they have any objections to raise them now. Then decide whether to take those objections on board. Assign family members dishes to bring, if that’s helpful.
Shall we have starters?
Hard no from me. You are planning potentially the biggest meal you’ll cook (then eat) all year; why add in a souffle or prawn cocktail or other fiddly thing?
If you’re cooking for fewer people, or going all in on hosting, knock yourself out with as many courses as you want. If you’re at all stressed or nervous, I strongly advise you to skip starters.
At the very most I will lay out a platter of smoked salmon about an hour ahead for people to have when we start pouring drinks. I’ll adorn it with wedges of lemon, chopped chives, a bowl of sour cream and a pile of shop-bought blini. (This is not the time to be getting out that dusty blini pan.)
Get ahead with your gravy
Do not underestimate the importance and strength of a good gravy. Meat a bit dry? Drown it in gravy. Food not as hot as you hoped? The gravy can be. Lacking a bit of je ne sais quoi? Gravy gravy gravy.
Do your Christmas self the biggest favour and make a batch in advance to freeze. I roast chicken wings (usually about 1kg, chopped if possible, with some chopped onions and carrots, maybe some thyme and bay) in a large casserole until they’re golden brown and crisp.
Carefully transfer the pan to a medium heat on the hob, pour in a large glass of any table wine and bring to the boil. Bubble until almost cooked away, then stir in a large knob of butter and 4 tablespoons of plain flour.
Break up all the ingredients a bit with a potato masher. When the flour has coated everything in the tray and browned and cooked, add 2 litres of water.
Bring to the boil, then reduce to a medium-low heat and leave to bubble away for 45 minutes, until thickened.
Strain the gravy through a fine sieve into a saucepan. If you like it a bit sweeter, whisk in a heaped tablespoon of redcurrant jam or jelly. Taste, adjust the seasoning and add more stock if you like a thinner gravy.
Leave to cool, then freeze until needed.
All the sauces?
For me, gravy is non-negotiable, but cranberry and bread sauce aren’t. I know many people who never have them.
I have a giant family, so I do include them - condiments are an easy win for an air of abundance and generosity.
