The Twelve Yums of Christmas: Part Nine

Cheesemas, part deux. 

This was our present from my brother and sister-in-law.

I think they know us quite well.

They also gave us a guide to the different cheeses:

...as well as this adorable utensil set to eat them with.

Best present ever?  It's going to take some beating.

The Twelve Yums of Christmas: Part Eight

My mother-in-law makes her own Christmas puddings.  Isn't that impressive?  I'm pretty sure that until I met her, I didn't think that they could be made at home.  I thought you needed...I don't know actually, but possibly an industrial pudding vat?  And definitely acres of obscure ingredients, like candied peel and suet. 

I'd love to share my mother-in-law's recipe with you, but unfortunately I can't.  Not because it's secret or anything, but because I literally can't read it.  It's captured in biro on the back of a Christmas card, and has gone through so many alterations, crossings-out and re-writes that I can't make head nor tail of it.  So I'll just have to leave the pudding-making to her, and concentrate on the pudding-eating instead.  No problem.

Yom.  We're going to keep this bad boy well-wrapped in paper and string and eat it when our bodies have gone into Christmas withdrawal and we have the shakes for brandied fruit.   

The Twelve Yums of Christmas: Part Seven

Ooof.  What a Christmas! We ate A Very Great Deal.  We had to walk it off on the beach.

Then we tried to be healthy...

...but we ended up here again.  Ahem.

The Twelve Yums of Christmas: Part Six

Cheesemas.

The Twelve Yums of Christmas: Part Five

Merry Christmas!

Yo ho ho!  We've reached Christmas day, and here's our dinner table looking lovely and festive.

We had a simple starter (to ensure maximum space for the next three courses).  We wrapped wedges of a super-ripe Galia melon in some wafer-thin Parma ham, and served them alongside a sprinkling of lettuce and Parmesan.  One melon served all seven of us perfectly.

Cheers!

We don't ever have turkey at Christmas, because nobody really likes it.  (Do you?  Be honest.  I'm convinced turkey is the chicken's poor cousin, and people just tolerate it at Christmas.)   This year we had a rib of beef from the local butcher, plus a million and one Yorkshire puddings.  Yes please.

My mum roasts her potatoes in lard, which makes them taste unbelievable.  None of this new-fangled olive oil nonsense round our way.   

If you care to count (and why wouldn't you?), you'd discover there are nine different types of vegetable on that plate.  Because that's how we roll at Christmas time.

The Twelve Yums of Christmas: Part Four

Every year, my mother makes a huge square Christmas cake.  It's my job to ice and to decorate it, and it's a responsibility I take very seriously.

Some of the cake decorations are more than twenty years old, and really, they look it.  So you have to be tactical with your placement - for example, burying Bambi in an icing snowdrift so you can't tell that he's got no legs.  (What do you mean, Bambi isn't festive?  He's a deer?  Which is a bit like a reindeer?  Hello?)

As you can tell, I have shunned the less is more approach.

The Twelve Yums of Christmas: Part Three

On Christmas Eve, it's nice to have something special for supper, don't you think?  It's a way of kicking off the festivities early, and also of lining the stomach in preparation for midnight mass or the annual festive pub crawl, whichever way your preferences lie.

This year, we made fondue.  Because the 1970's were an inspirational decade. 

Cheese Fondue (serves 6)

You need:
1 clove garlic
500g Gruyere, chopped into small pieces
500g Emmental, chopped into small pieces
350ml white wine (such as Sauvignon Blanc)
Juice of half a lemon
3 tbsp kirsch
2 tbsp cornflour

To serve:
Lightly steamed vegetables (we used potatoes, cauliflower, broccoli and cute baby carrots), cut into manageable pieces
Crusty bread (slightly stale is perfect, since it keeps its shape), cut into cubes

Method:

Peel the garlic clove and chop finely.  Put it into your fondue pot and set over a medium heat.  Add the wine and leave until warmed through.  Start adding your cheese, handful by handful, stirring continuously as it melts.  Add the lemon juice (the acid helps the cheese to break down).  As the cheese melts, add in more until all the cheese has been used.  This should take about twenty minutes. 

In a small bowl, mix the cornflour and kirsch until combined.  Stir into the cheese and take the pot off the heat - the mixture should be thick and smooth and smelling divine.  Transfer the pot to the burner on the table, set out your dipping bits, and get a-going.  Fondue purists will tell you that you should swirl your fork in a figure-of-eight motion (to keep the cheese from sticking).   I would say, do whatever gets the most cheese on your fork. 

I meant to take a photo of the completed fondue, but I was too eager to eat it.  So here's a picture of the empty pot.

For pudding, my sister-in-law made profiteroles, with the best chocolate sauce ever.  It doesn't actually contain any chocolate, but it does contain cream, cocoa, butter and sugar.  Yes yes yes!