The Food to Come

So after posting about parapets yesterday, I had that Decembrist song “Infanta” in my head all day.

“And all across the parapets a multitude of coronets…”

Grrr… not exactly the music I was looking for. Though I do love that elephant trumpeting.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas around here, not least because the lobby of our building is playing carols twenty-four seven and all anyone will talk about is how behind they are on shopping. And after last week’s snow, well, it’s all downhill from here. This weekend, I’m going with friends to see the D.C. Revels, and I’m so excited! they put on such a great show.

So this Christmas is being spent with Sailor Boy’s family, which has led to some interesting conversations about various Christmas traditions. The other day, I walked in on SB and his mother debating the main dish at Christmas dinner. “Ham,” suggests SB’s mom. “Turkey,” SB argues. I sit there and blink for a few moments. “Wait, you don’t have lasagna and prime rib?”

So I mentioned this to another friend of Italian extraction and she said, “Oh yeah, lasagna on Christmas Eve, roast beef for Christmas Dinner.” Thank you! You crazy Northern Europeans and your crazy geese and turkeys and hams.

And though I only had one Christmas of it, I still think of it every time the season rolls around: Pavlova. Dear lord, I love Pavlova. I love listening to Kiwis and Aussies debate who it “belongs” to while I eat Pavlova. the first year SB and I lived here, I attempted to make Pavlova, and I failed miserably. I am not good with meringues. Meringues and crusts. This year, I am on a campaign to have my chef friend create for me Pavlova. I even like saying Pavlova. Mmmmm, Pavlova.

Pavlova and lasagna. And wine. That sounds like a Christmas dinner to me!