Boxing Day

A number of years ago, I realized that there was something missing from my Christmas season. On December 26th, my friends were in their homes, lolling on their sofas, trying to work up the energy to clean up after their festive Christmas Day and contemplating the refrigerator full of leftovers. I, on the other hand, was sitting in my house, full of energy but a little regretful that I’d had no one to cook for. Thus was born my idea of giving a dinner party for friends on the evening after Christmas. Twelve years later, it has become a tradition for them and for me.
My friends often refer to this as their “French dinner”. But I have come to realize that it is actually a meal that pulls all the strands of my life together.
First, it allows me to resurrect a holiday from the first 19 years of my life – Boxing Day. Until I was 15, my parents and I spent this day with my godparents and their children -- a second Christmas, complete with turkey dinner and more gifts.( I liked it less in Jamaica. All my friends were busy with their families and I had to wait another day before seeing them.)
Christmas crackers were something else I hadn’t seen since I was 19. But you can buy them in Charlottesville and pulling them has become the traditional opening of my Boxing Day Buffet. It makes me smile to see even some of my more reserved friends eagerly reading out their silly jokes. They even wear their crowns for at least part of the evening.


The menu is as eclectic as my life. For the cocktail hour, I serve a non-alcoholic punch as well as wine.


Helped by friends, I make a selection of canapés, because they look and taste great.


The first course is always oyster stew. This was part of Christmas Eve dinner at my grandparents’ before I was born. Tales of those Christmases were part of my childhood. My father, who hated oyster stew, wouldn’t allow my mother to make it. But it stuck in my mind as a Christmas thing to have. Sorry, Daddy.

Following the French tradition, my main course is different every year. This year, after much cogitating and a telephone consultation with my former tenant in Florida, the decision was made
 Chicken breast stuffed with prosciutto and fontina cheese with a Portobello mushroom sauce
 Christmas rice (with diced red and green bell peppers)
 Spanakopita ( a side dish for most and a main dish for my vegetarian guest.)


After salad and cheese, a decent four hours later, it was time for dessert:
 Christmas cake imported from England (a rich fruitcake with a thick marzipan icing) and homemade mincemeat tarts – treats from my childhood.
 Homemade chocolate cookies and iced sugar cookies in Christmas shapes.
 Christmas candy – some homemade, the rest bought at two of Charlottesville’s gourmet shops.
(Sorry no pictures. Everyone was too busy eating and talking.)
Every year, one of my guests says “This was the best party ever!” Sorry you couldn’t be there. Maybe next year.
The next day, as I loll on my sofa, trying to work up the energy to clean up after my festive Boxing Day and contemplating the refrigerator full of leftovers, I feel my Christmas is complete.