Saturday, December 12, 2009

Mummy is that reindeer carbon footprints I see?



There is an unwritten rule somewhere about what food you must serve for Christmas day. It's a rule that is embedded in each family's DNA. Regardless of taste, culinary skills and outsourcing opportunities serving a roast turkey that is moist and flavoursome is about as likely as Jamie Oliver stepping out of the pantry wearing your crusty baking apron saying "hello darlin' here, let me do this". This season brings more cooking catastrophes than an episode of master chef using only power tools. Every year families seem to be working at break neck speed to up-size from the previous year, a bigger barbecue, a new beer fridge, a seven piece lounge for the decking, a tree that produces pine cones with a squirrel that leaps out on the hour to sing Oh Come All Ye Faithful as we hurtle towards the shopping malls with roof racks and hatchbacks to fill. The pressure is on to please the world on Christmas day, don't forget auntie's Cinzano as you slam another slab of mixers into the trolley tray at the liquor store, better make sure there is enough waygu to go around and we must remember what's her face who's gluten intolerant and goes into anaphylactic shock if she eats anything round. With all our trumpeting on about less carbon footprints, reduced emissions and sustainable anything, when it comes to Christmas, Santa Claus doesn't do green or recyclable. The only thing re-used year after year are Christmas carols with their sole purpose on Christmas day being to drown out family arguments or worse still, fill in the silence until we can all turn on the telly again and get back to normal.

4 comments:

  1. Turkey is vastly over rated. And you know what else bothers me about christmas? TV shows and Magazines, even newspaper articles full of stuffing recipes that sound wonderful. BUT. Where do you buy a chicken these days that isn't already stuffed with that awful tasteless grey sludge.

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  2. Is that what that is? I thought someone had just left a wet sponge in there.

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  3. ....and I hate turkey. Always have - I'd be given one of the drumsticks as a kid and somehow it was meant to be accepted with joy and enthusiasm, as though gnawing on reddish brown wood splinters cunningly called 'Christmas turkey' was a privilege....

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  4. Classic, Lorna. Now you are talking the real dinky di Christmas spirit.

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