Editorial

Christmas it’s a serious business. You might think it’s not only about the 24th of December, but you’re wrong. The shopping frenzy, the gift wrapping, the secret Santa’s it’s all a distraction. What really matters is the food preparation – which usually starts at the crack of dawn – and deciding who will cook what, who will host the Christmas’ Eve dinner, and the Christmas Lunch. If you think you have a choice in the matter, think again. You want to spend time with your friends celebrating alternatively? Well, watch out for you grandma’s superpower: the inducing-guilt puppy eyes. It works every time. You could go for the usual bar crawl on the Christmas’ Eve afternoon, but be sure: you’ll spend dinner with your family, around the table, eating, and playing card games.

A quick guide on how to survive

December 24th is usually spent in a cooking frenzy; the cooks spend their time defrosting the fish bought in advance – there’s no way anyone will ever manage to buy fresh seafood on the day. The brave spend their time on a balcony – or in a kitchen with wide open windows – with layers of jumpers and scarves to avoid the smell of frying fish from invading the house. The children are asked repeatedly to stay out of the way during the process until – after the umpteenth warning – they are grounded until dinner time. In case this happens, try not to send them to the room where you store all the presents from Santa or you will have a traumatised child on your hands.
Dinner is usually served earlier than usual, both to allow a few breaks in-between the courses and to have enough time to spend the last couple of hours before midnight playing card games in a smoke-filled room straight from one of those roaring-Twenties’ films. When the usual drama – crying children, passive-aggressive relatives who think they can do whatever you do better, and sulking teenagers – is over, the parade of dishes starts and may god have mercy on your stomachs.
The menu usually involves fried cod, boiled cod, cod with cauliflower, capers, peppers and potatoes. Let’s not forget about the three or four different mains – yes, seafood-based – with the myriad of sides, the deserts – from panettone to the typical regional sweets. Then it’s time to loosen a few buttons, and start the digesting process with coffee and limoncello. With a classic Christmas film in the background, the younger children spend the evening asking when it’s time to open the presents while the grown-ups spend their time cleaning up the messy kitchen and shuffling the cards to get the party started.
Finally, a few minutes shy of midnight, there’s a knock on the door or the bell rings, the children – who by that point were half-asleep – race to the entrance to catch a glimpse of Santa Clause, the disappointment is mitigated by a sack full of presents.
After the presents have been exchanged, the brigade has been greeted, it’s time to catch a break and go to sleep. Tomorrow is the 25th and it won’t be any easier.

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Dinner is usually served earlier than usual, both to allow a few breaks in-between the courses and to have enough time to spend the last couple of hours before midnight playing card games in a smoke-filled room straight from one of those roaring-Twenties’ films.