Christmas Past

I’m eying up the Christmas cake and wondering whether it’s going to be a marzipan-and-icing year or a fruit-and-nut affair. The answer is split fairly evenly between the marzipan haters and those of us who love it. As I’m the one doing the making and baking, I reckon I’m allowed the final say. After all, it’s easy enough to peel off the layer and there are plenty of takers in the family who will gladly partake of the cast-offs.

In the days before Christmas the kitchen becomes a mass of pots and pans, the air fragrant with spice and zesty oranges and with windows condensing steam. It’s a time for carols and contemplation and I’ve been reflecting on Christmas traditions - specifically the cooking and baking my great-grandmother and grandmother relished at this time of year. I wondered what went through their minds as they stuffed turkeys, chopped suet for the mincemeat, and rolled out pastry. And I thought that probably their concerns were similar to mine. Beyond the immediate needs of getting the timing right and the inevitable last-minute dash to the shop for a forgotten ingredient, they lived through wars, epidemics and shortages much as we are doing now. I wasn’t as aware of such things as I am now, although the threat of the Cold War stalked my vintage childhood. My parents and grandparents kept such fear at bay, wrapping their children in the sights and sounds, warmth and promise of Christmas, insulating us from the  harsher realities of life - the  strikes, power cuts and winter ‘flu. Perhaps that is why we perpetuate the customs with which we grew up. The world was no more a safer place then as it is now, but we do not remember the threat, only the impression of security. There is certainty in the past, gilded as it is by nostalgia.