Christmas Day, part 3

The transmogrification of food traditions

The palate changes over time. Over the years, we adjust for it. The buche de Noel shrinks (who can eat that much…), the chocolate ‘bark’ grows darker, more bittersweet, because that’s how preferences fall these days. The Cornish hens get zestier, spicier, the warm mushrooms in the salad get funkier, more exotic.

But the basic ingredients stay the same. Unless you forget to buy some of them. Then you adjust. Happy are those who can adjust, because let me tell you – all grocery stores are closed on this day, and the local PDQs do not carry such fancy items as heavy cream (for example). Adherence to rituals and traditions is satisfying. But shifting things around a bit is what makes the day especially interesting.

The final item to come out of the kitchen: a buche that recognizes current tastes and makes do with available ingredients. 

Christmas Day, part 2

Further proof that my proper place is in the kitchen:

The puff pastries come out of the oven in time for Christmas breakfast. The spice cake was made last night.

Starting the day with a nice carb high 

Gifts: am I for them or against them? Oh, for them. Especially when the gift giver really wants to make you happy with that little wrapped package. Someone thoughtfully purchased for me Baltic Voices 2 (Estonian choir, singing “choral riches of the Baltic Sea countries”). Being sort of an out-of-it type, I’d never heard of them before. Wonderful music, written by contemporary musicians. Makes me ashamed that I ever doubted Estonia’s greatness and influential position in the world. Yay Estonia! Glad you’re in the EU after all.

And, fan that I am of the Daily Show (I pay for cable just to occasionally catch Stewart – you might say that I am that deprived of opportunities to laugh), I somehow completely neglected “A Citizen’s Guide to Democracy Inaction.” Today it appeared under the tree. It’s a good book to flip through. I just picked up this piece of legal trivia that I am certain will help me sound impressive in social gatherings: Until 1943, Supreme Court nominees were wrapped in litmus paper and dipped in acid to determine their worthiness for the Court. later Courts were less literal-minded.

Gifts are good. They put a shirt on my back and a pear in my stocking.

Christmas Day, part 1

Merry Christmas to all who wish to be merry, and to all a good morning!

Does anyone else wake up at 5:30 and cannot return to sleep because of a nagging thought that they forgot something?

By 6 a.m. I finally recall that I did not wrap a pair of mittens from the Polish highlands. Nice sheep’s wool, warm and still smelling of fur and firs – I am certain that I did not wrap them. By 6:30 I give up on the idea of sleep and start searching for them. In the suitcase pocket: eureka!

For some, night visions of sugarplums, for others -- Polish mittens 

Being older means you still toss and turn on Christmas morning and think about the day ahead, it's just that your issues change somewhat.

For instance, here’s issue number two: I wonder if anyone will notice that I forgot to buy apple cider to steep the dried apples in for the morning apple puff pastries… And btw, I'm still fretting about the misplaced camera case.

An update on this promising-to-be-interesting day will follow.

And outside, just at dawn, the fir trees receive their dusting of snow.

Christmas Eve, part 3

What is the leading story in the Polish online newspaper right now? Predictably, an article accompanying this photo:

The Pope (he is Polish, remember?), resting before Midnight Mass.

Christmas Eve, part 2

Alright. The accusations have begun. I am asked if I have abandoned my love of the kitchen stove given that I am nowhere near it and evening is almost upon us. May I remind you, all you emphatic critics, of the fantastic Sicilian meal I put in front of your noses last night? You even took a picture of me, la vostra mamma, smiling away at the pot of parmesan polenta and the pollo siciliana (okay, I made the name up). Remember??

See how happy I look? (That's because I am near the end of the 45-minute stirring that polenta demands.) 

More photos of this type will dot the blog throughout the holiday period demonstrating my utter commitment to cooking. Is Ocean to become a ballyhoo on the author’s kitchen antics? It’s more that during these weeks, I have a photographer in the house who is quick to snap, especially in the kitchen, so evidence of my tornado-like cooking habits abounds.

Christmas Eve, part 1

Christmas Eve Day has always been a favorite for members of this household (amazing, considering the secular leanings of most, though not all of the persons herein). The day is full of good things, many of them edible, all of them jovial. So what was my contribution to this spirited day?
- A search for my camera case. I cannot find it. Where the devil is it? I am obsessed with looking for it. My co-hunters have given up on me and on the camera case. I, however, am determined.
- I’m on the Net right now. How pathetic is that…
- Filling the cart at Whole Foods. The Whole idiot that I am, I allowed little elves to sneak in their favorite: Angel Fluffies. As a result, our cabinet at home looks like this (posting the picture reminded me of the lost camera case; the hunt must continue!):

I would call this a serious addiction 

- going to the post office to mail a package and cards. The teller looked at the stack and told me that especially the international cards would, for sure, not get there in time for the holidays. I think she is not expansive enough in her thinking. The holidays can take a while to resolve themselves.
- I have four separate baked goods to put in the oven. I am not starting in on any of them. Instead, I am about to return to the mall. I have this unwieldy curiosity about what the mall is like minutes before it closes for the holiday.

A note of caution: Ocean will not opine about much of anything important between now and the close of 2004. Look not for studious commentary and stay away if you crave reflective insight. [In other words, Ocean will proceed as it always does, in a whimsied, designless manner, without any clear idea of where it’s heading or why it is going there.]

Dropped best friend in favor of speedy resolution to car problem

In an earlier post I described a growing dependence on a person who has become a fixture in my life: the AAA rescue guy who came to fix stalled, flattened, dead cars. Two had lost their air, their power, their pizzazz. That was then. Today, we are up to three deflated, depleted, debunked cars (not all mine! We have here two ancient drivers, two young drivers, three ancient cars).

My trusty rusty truck (alright, ye of high accuracy standards – I mean van) let out air in all four tires, but especially in one. That was the final straw. Not a single machine stuck by me during this cold spell. Thanks, guys.

I abandoned my man of slight mechanical aptitude but great friendship potential and called the local heroes at the Mobil station. I am in full support of friendship, but when my days are being trampled upon, it’s time to think selfishly about taking care of myself. And my van.

I finally made it to that dreaded place: the mall

Overheard, at Williams Sonoma and then again at another (secret) store across the mall:
Store clerk(s): Tomorrow, everything changes. The crowds diminish. It will be mostly men with a last-minute enlightenment about what their loved ones really want.

Items purchased: few. But I felt the season would be imperfect if I had not even once made it to the mall.

Mood meter: shoppers appeared benign, like they really did not mind being there. Odd!

Prospects of returning anytime soon: when the weather changes and I need a new bathing suit, if then.

It looks just as exquisite in the daylight

isn't she a charmer... as the sheep looks on