Christmas festivities

Once upon a time, in a lifetime long ago, I lived in Germany.  In Hannover, to be exact.  This time of year is an eternal dream.  Mulled wine and plump, crispy kartoffelpuffen dumplings with apple sauce.  Nights that dreamily sink into the very short days and are reluctant to leave.  Snow.  Lots of snow.  It's a time of families, friends and feasts.

The Weihnachtsmarkets with their low, logged stalls magically appear in the cobbled streets of the oldest part of Hannover (just as they do all over Germany).  My favourite stalls, once i slated my addiction to german christmas decorations with a daily purchase or seven, were those selling mulled wine.

Never in a million years did i think that heating red wine with the addition of spices and citrus could create something so wonderful.  Even now, in the heat of a Sydney summer (and even though i'm not able to drink alcohol at the moment due to a dodgy heart), the possibility of whipping up some Gluhwein seems perfectly desirable.

In Germany, you get two Christmas Days with Christmas Eve falling on Dec 23. Our Christmas Eve Dinner was always light, in preparation for the trek ahead.  Asparagus in all guises - soup, steamed with hollandaise, baked.  Dec 24 meant goose.  Regal, golden, roast goose with goose fat potatoes, then lots of cheese.  Dec 25 was red meat.  Often, venison along with a brace of stews and braises. And after each meal, fortified by wine and schnapps, we'd venture out into the bracing -20 degrees where the warmth of the meal and the fortifying alcohol meant the snap of the breeze on your face was a welcome refresher.  

This was the Christmas of my dreams.  The cold, bracing, snow-filled traditional Christmas with candles on trees, and the whisper of angels dancing across the tops of the whitened rooftops.  Yet, somehow, despite the beauty, despite the fulfilment of childhood expectations, it was a sweltering, sweaty poolside christmas that i longed for.  Where cracker hats stain your forehead, and the ice melts into the seafood bowl if you don't demolish it quickly enough, and the pavlova beads up, and the pulsing heat slides away as you slip into the pool.  

Guess it's what you're used to! So Merry Christmas and Frohe Weihnachten.