Cambridge Edition December 2020 - Web

FOOD & DR INK

CHEF’S TABLE

Yule-bre a ker THROW YOUR FESTIVE FOOD TRADITIONS OUT THE WINDOW THIS YEAR, SAYS ALEX RUSHMER: IT’S YOUR CHANCE TO DO CHRISTMAS EXACTLY AS YOU WANT IT

hristmas will be different this year. At the time of writing, a second national lockdown has just begun. Perhaps restrictions

will have eased by the 25th, allowing us to enjoy some small aspects of the festive season, but right now it looks as if the Ghosts of Christmas Past will be busy haunting us all with an intense enthusiasm throughout December. With so much uncertainty, I’ve found it difficult to find a suitable topic to cover this month, particularly as the festive season is one that usually demands light-heartedness and baubles. It would be foolhardy to retread the best way to tackle Christmas dinner when the majority of us may only be cooking for a maximum of six people. There is no point at all discussing canapes, or batch cocktails or even extravagant cheeseboards when the likelihood of hosting or attending a party is virtually nil. Those joyous moments of levity will be lacking for all of us this year, at precisely the point we need them most, at the end of a year that can, quite frankly, be referred to as an absolute stinker. But there should, and there must, be some working bulbs in the tangled mess of shattered tree lights that we call 2020. Granted, we might have to search a little harder for them this year, but they are there, nestled and hiding and ready to start twinkling with a proper festive glow the moment they are properly screwed in and the connection is fully realised. December can often feel like a maelstrom of indulgence, parties, booze and spending – not to mention trying to wrestle through the myriad social and

familial commitments we tend to find ourselves in. Expectations can weigh heavy, as can the collected experiences of Christmases prior – each one carries with it the legacy (good and bad) of those that preceded it. Perhaps now is an apt opportunity to collectively pause and work together in pushing a giant reset button and take stock of the dull chaos that has dominated our lives since the early spring? Personally, I am trying to process the confusion that has come from the seemingly impossible convergence of opposing experiences: the year has been novel in the most incredible way, yet also presented us with a mundanity that has often felt endless. The warp and weft of time has played cruel tricks with our

perception of how things have progressed. Major incidents have faded rapidly to the horizon and minor occurrences have dwelt in the hippocampus with irrational strength. Marking the passing of this annus horribilist (sic) is essential for us in order to have some measure of closure and a small, focused festive season is the best way we can do so. Naturally, as a cook, food is the most obvious way for me to place a beacon into the final moments of the year and I will likely do so by breaking as many traditions as I can possibly think of, rather than attempting to grasp those ethereal Ghosts of Christmas Past. In the grand scheme of things, eating oysters instead of smoked salmon on Christmas Eve, meatballs rather than turkey on the 25th or glugging aged madeira as opposed to vintage port on Boxing Day might seem like small acts of defiance, but in the face of a festive

“The Ghosts of Christmas Past will be busy haunting us all with an intense enthusiasm”

season, the likes of which we have never seen, perhaps those small acts are precisely the twinkling bulbs we all need.

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