Every family has its Christmas traditions. Some we look forward to with enthusiasm, others we tend to avoid thinking about until they are upon us, like my grandmother’s tomato aspic.
Food has always played a central role in my family’s holiday traditions. Like some people attend church, my family attends the Christmas dinner table. Like church, the customs, rituals, and rules must be followed. Rule number one is that Christmas dinner needs to be precisely the same, year after year. For as long as I can remember, or at least as long as my Italian grandmother was alive and in control of the situation, Christmas dinner meant two kinds of roasted meat, turkey and ham; mashed potatoes; real butter and homemade butter flake rolls; three gravy boats; homemade ravioli; carrots and peas with pearl onions; homemade cranberry sauce; a jello salad; and both stuffing and dressing – one former roasted inside the bird (which really nauseates me actually to write that), and the latter cooked in a casserole.
The tension created by the stuffing was palpable; everyone wanted it passed to them next, fearing they’d have to eat the slop that was cooked in a casserole dish. Not only that, but anyone who suggested that the non-bird stuffing was just as good as the in-bird variety was immediately asked if they were crazy – and definitely NOT in a funny, rhetorical question sort of way. It was more like a scene out of Perry Mason. Picture my grandpa as the angry judge, leaning aggressively toward the poor defendant:
“Answer the question, sir, ARE YOU CRAZY?!”
That’s how serious our family food traditions were. Appetizers were no exception. Only a few are allowed because of the fear that everyone would ruin their appetite. So we only had clam dip, salami and sliced cheeses, home-cured olives and peppers, mushroom torta, grilled eggplant, chilled shrimp with cocktail sauce, and a cheese ball. That’s it.
I’ve eased up on the traditions gas pedal. Clam dip, in. Gizzards, tomato aspic and Jell-O, out.
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