If it wasn’t for coffee, I wouldn’t even be alive right now. So, thank you, coffee, for all you do.
Even our dog has a hangover. And the leftovers? We could live three months on pie alone.
Meanwhile, I am one Christmas cookie away from being mistaken for Buddy Hackett, or perhaps the great Totie Fields (ask your grandparents).
On Tuesday, a personal Pyrrhic victory: I went 90 seconds without consuming a sweet of any kind.
Other than that, I’ve been rather indulgent. The word decadence comes to mind, not in any pejorative sense. Opulence. Indulgence. Decadence. Life’s too short, right?
Obviously, cardiologists must make a killing on Christmas, pardon the pun. How ironic. The holiday with the most heart….
Therapists too. Happiness makes some people sad. Indeed, in our family, Christmas is like a nervous condition. In medical terms, we have eggnog on the brain.
“Don’t be sad it’s over,” goes the saying. “Be glad it happened.”
Oh, it happened.
At our house, the holidays look like some sort of Harlem Globetrotters stunt: high energy, kind of unnerving … belly laughs and confetti and water in the face.
Pow! Hallelujah!
Yet, there is a certain sophistication that is captured in the tiny touches.
Like, the side salad my lovely and patient daughter made: arugula, pears, pomegranate seeds, gorgonzola, candied pecans, sprinkled with diamonds, rubies, frankincense, and myrrh.
Honestly, Michelangelo spent less time on that ceiling.
Yet, I realize that my daughter’s desire to make everything perfect makes for us a splendid little Christmas.
Smartacus, on the other hand, lets the holidays come to him. On the couch.
“I have a different mindset,” my son explains.
My dad celebrated Christmas this same way, as did Posh’s dad, as do many dads.
Me, I still can’t wrap a gift to save my life.
But I recognize this discrepancy in the way the genders approach the holiday. Christmas speaks to the selflessness of women in general, their kindnesses, their poetry.
Santa gets too much credit. It’s the moms who bring us Christmas.
Let’s just talk about cookies for a second. The lovely and patient older daughter makes these little wreaths out of cornflakes.
I can’t even make cornflakes out of cornflakes.
After a lifetime of watching women exhaust themselves — my mamma, my late wife and now my amazing daughters — I’ve tried to step up with better gifts.
When Christmas ended last year, I took my older daughter’s discarded tree off to a woodshop. There, my buddy Serdar turned the tree trunk into a series of wooden spoons that commemorate my grandbaby’s first Christmas, even branding them with the date.
I hope Finn and my daughter have these spoons in 50 years. Most likely, they will run across one of these custom pine spoons in the back of a junk drawer and think: “Where did we get this? Oh well…”
Maybe they’ll put it back in the junk drawer. Maybe they’ll just toss it. Oh well.
I also tried to honor moms by re-creating an egg casserole that my own mama used to make on Christmas or New Year’s mornings. My sister sent the recipe, handwritten by my mom. Then she sent a translation of the recipe.
See, my mama was bilingual. She spoke fluent English but wrote in some long-dead alien language that was as indecipherable as the woman herself. I mean, everyone loved Mom, but she was this hybrid of French effusiveness and stoic Midwesterner. Basically, she was like Cleopatra — if Cleopatra liked to shovel snow.
And she was Christmas.
Anyway, Mom (and Posh) loved this egg casserole, which became a generational tradition at Christmas or New Year’s.
Basically, you layer croutons in a greased 9-by-9 baking dish. Then you layer shredded cheddar over the croutons, then another layer of croutons and another layer of cheese – four layers in all. Over this, you pour a mixture of four beaten eggs and two cups of milk, seasoned with salt and a plop of powdered mustard or Dijon.
You can sprinkle the dish with cooked breakfast sausage, but that’s optional.
Let it soak, meld and make sweet love in the fridge for at least an hour, or preferably overnight. Then bake at 350 for an hour.
Tastes like, well, 50 years ago.
Hallelujah.
Yes, I will check with Serdar to see if he plans to do more soup spoons. Don’t hold your breath. They are a lot of work. Email me at Letters@ChrisErskineLA.com if you’re interested. In the meantime, Happy New Year’s to all. Cheers!
The spoons idea is brilliant! I’ll catalog that one for now, as my kids are still teens but I love the sentiment and remembrance that a gift like that provides-i shed a tear as soon as I saw the photo. Also, thank you for the December batch of stories/posts. They have helped me to stay awake and aware of the real meaning of the season and I squeezed every drop out of Christmas 2022. Happy New Year to you and your loved ones-and Cheers!
The spoons idea is brilliant! I’ll catalog that one for now, as my kids are still teens but I love the sentiment and remembrance that a gift like that provides-i shed a tear as soon as I saw the photo. Also, thank you for the December batch of stories/posts. They have helped me to stay awake and aware of the real meaning of the season and I squeezed every drop out of Christmas 2022. Happy New Year to you and your loved ones-and Cheers!
I agree with Jack. Love turning a tree into an object that is both useful and evocative. Harlem Gobetrotters Christmases! Long may they bless us. Amazing how your series of holiday posts have captured all the special facets of Christmas. Thanks for making it extra-special for us this year. Happy New Year to you and cannot wait for your bear book to come out. Reading it is my New Year’s Resolution.
Carroll, thanks for mentioning the bear book. Fingers crossed it’ll be out in time for next Christmas.
Beautiful !! Love your columns !
Happy healthy new year🎉🥳
Such a sentimental sap and the reason you are so loved and admired. The humor helps too. Happy New Year!
I am familiar, as many of us are, with women exhausting themselves at Christmas. I am gliding around one now who is not satisfied unless she wakes up after repeated face plants at the end of each day the week before and two days after the holiday to realize the day has passed. And food prep is not the only obsession. Perfection burns in her mind like a Christmas candle, steadily and without flicker. I step up my game to this fever pitch just to keep that candle from burning out. Many of us do. I am convinced much of the brilliance of Christmas is due to the fairer sex. Their radiance is never more in evidence.
My Mom made a concoction like your egg dish. She used fresh bread and all the same ingredients but called it Mock Cheese Soufflé. A fancy name for an egg casserole. It was still better than the creamed chip beef on toast, though!
I love the idea of the spoons. Nah, they won’t get pitched.
Chris, a very Happy New Year to you and your splendid family. Thank you for sharing your posts. Believe it or not, your posts are a ray of sunshine on this wet and dreary day. The spoons are a unique and beautifully crafted gift, no way will they be discarded. The casserole looks good too! Stay safe, be well.
You know that the kids are going to hawk all of your worldly possessions for a pizza & a six pack.
Sorry for the harsh, I don’t do holidays well.
Even my Butkus jersey!?
Pyrrhic…I love it! What do you win? You get to win! Happy New Year to all of you, Chris, and thanx for all the hard work. Keep it up! We’re counting on you [no pressure].
Oh, damn, as a cheddar loving Wisconsinite that recipe sounds wonderful. I may try to make it without the croutons, but otherwise, fantastic! Love this one.
If you were from Minnesota, you’d substitute tater tots for the croutons. Boom!
The spoons are brilliant – such wonderful mementos and heirlooms celebrating Cake’s first Christmas. You may have out-momma-ed the mommas with this one! Sure they will be cherished forever. Happy 2023 to you and your beloved family!
Thanks for sharing your family holiday remembrances, traditions and recipe with us. Happy New Year.
Just brilliant! As far as wooden spoons go, the only piece of my marriage I kept after divorce. Teak & tough serving up some fabulous memories. Totie Fields… I laughed thinking of her, thanks for that, it’s been years. Brought to my mind Mike Douglas & Johnny Carson laughing! So 2023 more memories & laughs. Happy New Year Chris!
Chris, Based on your similar reference to spoons a few years ago, our 2019 tree became wooden spatulas for my sisters (still working on the spoon technique). We have a live tree this year so it’ll live on in some utensil drawer next year. The year made stamp is a good idea…now in addition to a possible stabbing injury I can add a burn to the list.
How cool, Pete. Wish I had that skill set. I just rely on Serdar.