Christmas dinner was ordered in from the local pizza and curry restaurants. We sat there amid the takeout boxes, watched movies and relaxed. Good times. Good times.
Christmas dinner in our house was home baked bread and garden veggies gently roasted, drizzled in ridiculously old balsamic vinegar. We drank wine, we were merry, we told the most terrible of jokes. That was us. Casual, informal, yet caring enough to make the food truly scrumptious.
Christmas dinner was a potluck every year, sometimes there were more sweets than savoury, but it brought good humour and levity to what can otherwise be a standing-to-attention kinda occasion. The kids would put roast potatoes and chocolate cake on the same plate and sat on the porch wearing huge grins. It was a little bit traditional, a little bit rogue, but it was a whole lotta lotta fun.
We always had Christmas dinner as a picnic, I guess that's the perk of living in a place that's warm and sunny in December. So we never had the snow nor those little British robins, but we had nature all around us and that was our thing.
Christmas dinner was generally around the middle of the day. It gave the chefs of the family time enough to do their thing, and it gave the kids plenty of time to play and work up a grand appetite.
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