::: today at "time to cook" :::

Today at Time to Cook, an essay on awaiting the first snow and a recipe for Simple Hot Cocoa and Homemade Whipped Cream. Drag out the sleds and the hot chocolate mugs and pop on over!

Card catalog generator, with hat tip to Hind's Feet.

Christmas Morning

I don't know what woke me on Christmas morning, but my eyes popped wide open and I was alert. The only light was from the twinkling of the Christmas tree. All around me lay sleeping children, in chairs, on bean bags on the floor, at my feet. This is our Christmas Eve tradition: Everyone opens two gifts--their Christmas pajamas and a container of Pringles; everyone models their pajamas; everyone eats two or three Pringles, or the whole can; everyone drags their bedding to the room where the Christmas tree glows and we sleep there, beneath the tree. In years past, Bo and I have been awake until 3 a.m. wrapping gifts, but this year, Bo did all of the wrapping, which made me very, very pleased. I'm perfectly content to cook, and I can even force myself to clean, but I absolutely abhor wrapping packages.

So, this Christmas, we were finished with all Christmas preparations. Bo and Houdin both opted out of the sleeping-under-the-tree tradition, but The Baby took it quite seriously, moving all of the gifts that the children had so dutifully transported from my room to the skirt beneath the boughs of the tree, so that she could snuggle directly beneath it. That didn't last long, and soon she was curled up beside Sweetheart and I was reading from an anthology of Christmas stories. By 9 p.m., we were all asleep. Some slept soundly; some slept fitfully, but all slept until Christmas morning.

There I lay, with my eyes wide open. I peered toward the east, but there was not even a hint of a sunrise. Not even a faint glow. My bladder announced that it was time to rise, so I did, first visiting the powder room and then turning on the light in the kitchen. I squinted at the clock. Three in the morning. Shuffling back to the couch, I told my body and brain that they had no business being awake and they were to get back to sleep immediately. Like over-anxious children, they just couldn't do it. I remembered the advice my mother-in-law had once given me about how hormones affect sleep, and how, as she grew older, she would awake at odd hours--be completely and totally awake--and though she tried for a while to force herself back to bed, she finally decided to take advantage of the alertness and use the energy. She found that they were some of the most productive times she had.

I figured that there were things that needed doing before the rest of the family awoke, so I took my mother-in-law's advice and headed back to the kitchen.

Quiche for Christmas morning. That was the plan this year. In years past, we've done Monkey Bread, but it's not as nutritious or filling, so I planned to make my favorite quiche recipe instead, along with some fresh pineapple and orange juice. The pate brise was already in the fridge, so the first step was to brown the bacon, and then deeply saute the onions until they were golden brown. With the bacon sizzling on the stove, I was sure that the aroma would snake its way into someone's dreams and rouse them from sleep.

Sure enough, I heard stirring, heard the squeak of the powder room door, and, before long, there was Monet standing beside me, wrapping his arms around my body and saying, "Merry Christmas" and "Can I help you?"

Let me say that if I produce one real chef, one true culinary-school graduate, I will be satisfied. Out of all of my children so far, Monet and Houdin are the ones most likely to pursue this path. They watch Good Eats on DVD fairly regularly, a gift from Impromptu-Mom that has been one of the most valuable gifts we've ever received.

I welcomed eleven-year-old Monet into my kitchen and invited him to join me in the quiche-making experience. His current favorite pie, he says, is quiche, leaving apple pie and chicken pot pie in the dust. That's really saying something.

I taught him to roll out the pate brise, had him experience the perfection that is golden-brown onions--from the cutting and food-processing (which left him quite teary, but he bore it and plodded on) to the final moments of the forty-minute sauteing process, let him process the Gruyere--an expense that was not spared (there is no quiche cheese like Gruyere), and let him assemble one quiche on his own (though I grated the nutmeg). He was tortured with the smell of the baking quiche, his hunger having already kicked in at 4 a.m., but I encouraged him to eat a banana or some other yummy thing while he waited.

Before long, sixteen-year-old Bard stumbled into the room. Most days, Bard, who is a bohemian like her father, is just snuggling into her bed at this hour. I pray that she gets a night job, truly I do. She poked her head into the kitchen long enough to see what we were doing, realize the unGodly hour in which we were doing it, and crawl back under her covers.

The quiches were beautiful. I explained to Monet how they must be baked until they are just-set in the center, so he was able to remove them from the oven at just the right time, the crust golden and flaky, the eggs still damp and glossy.

It was still too early for the masses to arise, so Monet worked on his Flash cartoons, I cleaned out a few of my cupboards, did a couple of loads of dishes, and then, just in time for children to show their sleepy little faces, I remembered...the stockings hadn't been filled!

A mad rush ensued, the stockings were hung by the, um, er...window casings with care, and that's when, one by one, every member of the family, down to the very last sleepy-headed bohemian, made their appearance in the kitchen, some bouncing, some murmuring, some embracing me and each other with Christmas greetings.

Christmas day had truly begun.

It's Almost CHRISTMAS!

Today was a Good Day.

Well, it wasn't completely good, but what kind of day is ever completely good? It didn't start out so great, with an argument between my oldest children and me, but it improved from there, so that's something to be thankful for.

Bo and I used the day to wrap up our Christmas shopping. We only shopped for our children this year, as our overall Christmas budget is less than a week's worth of groceries, and most of their gifts came from the thrift store, which is, in my opinion, a way mobie cool way to go. I can't tell you what they got yet (they read the blog, doncha know), but I can tell you that Bo wrapped presents All. Evening. Long. He wrapped until he ran out of tape and has used almost an entire 200 s.f. roll of peppermint-stick-print paper. The little white tree in my room is completely surrounded by gifts, and I even managed to get a couple of small things for Bo.

While on our shopping trip, we had lunch out followed by coffee at this cute little Hungarian pastry shop in the Bigger City; the shop reminded me of the shop in Chocolat, which made me both inspired and slightly jealous. One of my dreams is to open a shop in our little town much like the one in Chocolat. First, I have to become as sexy as Juliette Binoche's character. I'm sure I'll be a success if I achieve that goal.

At Tulipan, the pastry shop, we each filled coffee cups and ogled over the goodies behind the glass. I indulged in some rum balls, linzer cookies, kifli and decorated spice cookies for the kids, who were dutifully cleaning the house while we shopped.

I was so inspired by the pastry shop that I was eager to do some baking when I got home. The house was so clean (thanks, Bard and Houdin!) that all I had to do was go around lighting candles and everything was cozy. With Bard's help, I made two batches of shortbread, one batch of pecan shortbread and one batch of tarts. A lot of the cookies will go to church with us for tomorrow morning's Christmas Eve service and meal. The rest will go to neighbors and be our dessert for Christmas dinner.

I decided to have our Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve this year, so after the cookies were baked, I got the turkey ready for brining. We raised our own turkeys this year, which was a good experience, and we grilled one for Thanksgiving, which was mediocre. I'm hoping that this turkey, a smaller one, will be tastier. I plan to use my electric roaster on this one. Next year, I want to raise a Christmas Goose and maybe our own pigs for ham.

I'm also making two roasts, three kinds of potatoes, an apple-pear pie with a pate brise crust, a Toll House pie, savory stuffing, pickle wraps, cranberry sauce with homemade whipped cream, some assorted veggies, and maybe some rolls, if I get to it in time. Christmas morning, I'll make two quiches and we'll have leftovers, which will probably include Turkey Carcass Soup.

Last night, we joined about twenty-five others and went caroling around the neighborhood of some friends', giving them batches of cookies. My contribution was shortbread cookies and buckeye candies. To see the faces of those we carolled was so rewarding. One elderly woman told us that she had never been carolled before!

While Bo and I were gone today, three of our neighbors sent plates of goodies--cookies and candies and snack mixes. Earlier this week, my dear friend Penny sent Petits Fours to the children, a tradition she has kept up with every year since we've lived here.

My feet are aching, my knees have all but given out, I've almost finished decorating, I filled out but didn't mail my Christmas cards, and I'm coming dangerously close to getting tired of shortbread and Christmas carols, but, finally, I feel like it's Christmas.

I hope you do, too, friend.

Happy Holidays to you and yours, and may you feel peace and joy this Christmas season!