I’m somewhat ashamed that I felt the need to post to my blog on both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, itself. Why, it’s almost as if I have no life whatsoever.
We did actually have company both days: my in-laws (the lucky recipients of a butternut squash), as well as my brother-in-law and his Turkish wife. Oh, and Mickey the Third who stopped by for a little Camembert to go with Slow Death. I couldn’t make out his last wishes, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t for his sooty gray corpse to be flung conspicuously onto the white, white snow for the viewing pleasure of all future guests from now until springtime.
Oh, wait, that was Husband’s last wish.
Things went pretty smoothly after that. I guess there was nowhere else to go but up. I roasted two ducks on Christmas Day with a luscious sauce of prunes and juniper berries. (If you’re grossed out by the very idea of prunes in anything, then you and I really need to talk.)
When I told the Preschooler that I would be cooking ducks for Christmas, he asked in all of his trademark earnestness, “Do we have to go to the pond to get them?” I explained that the ducks had already died, and that right now the store was taking off the feathers so they would be all ready to cook. He seemed okay with this. Of course, this is also the kid that once asked if we could scoop fish out of the river and bite right into them like the bears in his nature shows. That’s my boy, I said. As long as it’s not the Charles.
I kept things simple with the vegetables: oven-roasted potatoes, boiled and mashed turnip, and, of course, butternut squash. And, in the spirit of ramming as much squash down everyone’s throats as possible, I made a Hubbard squash pie for dessert. One with cognac, and cardamom, and a gingersnap crust.
It could have used more brown sugar, but it was still really good. I have enough Hubbard for 23 more pies, so I’ll get it right eventually.
Hope you all enjoyed yours!