Christmas Feasting

Christmas at Oak Creek Ranch is all about the food.  This year was no exception.  In addition to the usual cookie baking marathon, I baked bread.  I pulled my sourdough starter out of the refrigerator, where it had been hibernating, and fed it twice a day for a week until it was thick with bubbles.  Brett grumbled as he vacuumed flour from the floor after each feeding.  I used my basic recipe but I played with the amount of water until I had a nice wet, but still manageable, dough.  I stretched and slapped it, rested it, then stretched and folded it before creating nice taut balls that finished with a slow proofing in the refrigerator overnight.  I was rewarded with two beautiful loaves, crusty, high and moist.  Brett stopped grumbling when he saw the loaves.

On Christmas eve, I made a roast crown of pork with an apple cider and fig sauce.

Christmas day was the most ambitious -- prime rib, scalloped potatoes, green beans amandine, and bread.  My dad provided some especially tasty wine and we had a jovial meal.  Camille captured Brett doing his Rudolph the Reindeer imitation.

I love to cook for my family; it is a tangible gift of love that I give them.  Nothing makes me happier than watching them at the table, admiring the ruby red meat and scooping mounds of potatoes onto their plates.

The Most Romantic Gift

Two years ago, my mom and dad were here for what would be my mom's last Christmas.  We didn't know she would be gone two months later, of course, but we all knew that her health was failing.  It was the elephant in the room; we circled around her, voicing concerns about oxygen, her immune system, and her failing memory.  But we rarely broached the subject directly.  None of us wanted to think about life without Mom.

On Christmas morning 2013, my mom gave my dad a gift; a small journal.  She had written short paragraphs on each page.  Memories, thank yous for a better life than she had ever expected, and thoughts.  It wasn't mushy; my mom was not a sentimental person.  And it was that -- the fact that my sensible, emotionally strong, and practical mother had given my father a very sentimental and romantic gift that did us in.  We cried.  All of us.  My dad didn't read it then; he couldn't.  He carried it around with him in the months after her death until he was ready to open the pages.

Brett and I were deeply touched by the gift of the journal and we spoke of it often.  A few months ago, around the time of our anniversary, I had an idea which I shared with Brett.  We both struggle with finding appropriate cards for each other on birthdays and anniversaries.  I suggested we buy a notebook and write a card to each other in the book on those occasions, or whenever the mood strikes us.  Brett loved the idea but he didn't want me to buy just any old notebook.  He wanted to find something nicer.

Christmas morning I opened a gift from him containing a beautiful leather journal, hard bound, with a green silk ribbon.

But the part that made me cry (and made his face buckle watching me) was the inscription in the lower right corner.  Many of you know how much I love France.  I practice French everyday; I read books and magazines in French; I love French wine, cheese, and food.  One of my closest friends, Sylvie, lives in Brittany.  Brett, who doesn't speak any French, had researched and translated into French the phrase -- "Shared thoughts and emotions."

This morning I wrote my first entry.

We Had a White Christmas

It was perfect.  My dad and the kids all arrived before the snow started to fall.  Christmas Eve day we had snow on-and-off all day.  Each time it stopped snowing, it would warm up a few degrees.  Then it would begin to rain, then sleet, then snow. I'd look out the window and sigh.  I don't know why I love snow so much.  I just do.  Despite it snowing all day, the rain washed away most of it, so we ended up with patchy snow.

Finessa, Camille and Tuffy

Christmas Eve we feasted on roast beef, roasted potatoes and Caesar salad.  Champagne.  Wine.  More wine.  Then bed.  Holidays in our family are all about the food.

Christmas Day was spent opening gifts, feasting on turkey and watching the snow melt.  In the evening the kids wanted to play Cards Against Humanity.  It is politically incorrect and a bit crass -- not something you would play with your mother and grandfather but that is exactly what the kids proposed.  Brett was buried in a football game and declined joining us.  My father is a retired university professor, quiet, serious, and about as far from silly as you can imagine.  I'm very much like him in that way.  But that evening, we were all laughing so hard that we couldn't breathe.  It was wonderful.  The best Christmas gift of all.

My father left Saturday for home.  Sunday night we had more snow; close to two inches fell over night and we woke to a winter wonderland.

The horses weren't impressed with the snow.  They watched me taking pictures from their pastures and wondered why I wasn't bringing them their breakfast.  Humans and their priorities.  Sheesh.

Lucy, Pistol and Jackson

Flash

Tex

The kids packed a sled and drove up the road to the lake where they found a good steep hill to slide down.  Camille took pictures -- I love this one of the lake.

This morning, I headed into the office (I was able to telecommute yesterday) and the kids headed to Kyle's apartment in Berkeley.  It was a magical Christmas.

An Early Christmas

Kyle and Camille came home last weekend to celebrate Christmas with us.  As soon as the rain let up, Camille went outside and took selfies with the animals.

We had our Christmas Eve dinner Friday night; a tenderloin roast with roasted potatoes and mushrooms.  Saturday after chores, I cranked the Christmas music and we opened gifts.  The kids took Kersey for a walk in the drizzle but mostly we stayed inside, eating chocolates and cookies.  I made a heritage turkey for dinner.  Have you heard of them?  I keep reading about them and was curious to see if they taste as good as the articles say.  Think about the difference between a supermarket tomato bought in the winter compared to an heirloom variety plucked from the garden in the heat of summer.  That is the difference.  The dark meat was really dark; almost purple.  The skin was thick and hard to cut through.  The recipe I followed strongly suggested cutting off the thigh/leg quarters and cooking them first and then adding the breast later.  The dark meat takes a long time to cook and there is nothing worse than dry white meat -- especially when you've paid four times as much as usual for the turkey.  But, oh my, that bird was tasty!  We all agreed that it was worth every penny.

Sunday, Kyle and Camille headed over to Tahoe to ski.  Brett and I worked outside, cleaning up after the last storm.

The kids were home in time for dinner.  It is a definite benefit living so close to the Tahoe ski resorts.  Monday morning they loaded Kyle's car and drove to San Francisco where Kyle is now living and working.  He showed Camille around the city and they spent the night in his apartment.  This morning they drove down to Southern California to spend Christmas with their dad.  Kersey was not happy about them leaving.

It's the first time we've celebrated Christmas on a day other than Christmas itself and we liked it.  It did seem strange, though, at work today with people stressed about getting their shopping and holiday cooking done and I'm feeling all relaxed because I'm finished with all of that.  

 

Christmas Feasting

Christmas was quiet at Aspen Meadows this year.  My parents spent Christmas at my sister's house, and the rest of our brothers and sisters were staying home for the holiday.  Christmas eve we feasted.
For breakfast, I made donuts while we waited for Camille to arrive back home.

While they were in the oven, Camille called.  Her car was overheating and she didn't know what she should do.  We told her to head back to her father's house since she was closer to him and there was no way her car would make it up the mountain.  Before she could get off of the freeway, the engine starting seizing up so she pulled over to the shoulder and called AAA for a tow.  Brett headed down the mountain to go pick her up.  Throughout the entire ordeal, Camille held it together.  She didn't have a panic attack, she fought her fear and got the situation dealt with.  I was so proud of her. 

I set the table while Kyle and I waited for Camille and Brett to arrive.

At lunch time, I made clam dip and stuffed mushrooms.  I poured us each a kir royale (champagne and cassis).  The feasting began.  I made a loaf of challah bread to have with dinner.

Our first course was salad with roasted acorn squash, Parmesan cheese and pomegranate seeds.  Very festive and very tasty.

Brett provided comic relief with a napkin ring.

Then I carved the tenderloin steak into filet mignon steaks and turned out the potato galette.  We feasted until we couldn't eat anything more. 

We went to bed stuffed and tipsy from the champagne, wine with dinner, and a bit of eggnog for dessert.

The next morning, Brett and I were up early to do chores and fill the stockings.  By the time we got back in the house after feeding, the kids were stirring.  The tree was bursting with packages.  I like the look of lots of packages under the tree so I wrap all our gifts in big boxes. 

Kyle and Camille sat on the couch while I got my coffee.  Kyle read Christmas books from their childhood to Camille.  It was too cute.

After opening the gifts, Camille and Kyle headed down the mountain to spend the rest of Christmas Day with their dad.  Camille was also very anxious to see her boyfriend.  Imagine that.  Brett and I spent Christmas afternoon and evening at my cousin, Nancy's, home.  I hadn't seen her in years.  My aunt was there as was another cousin, Linda, who lives in Tennessee. Brett and her husband hit it off big time.  Linda and Nick have an organic farm in Tennessee so you can imagine all the tractor talk that went on.  Linda's daughter, Carrie, and her boyfriend were also there for a few hours before they left to drive home to Las Vegas.  We had a great time sharing memories and laughing.  It was a warm and wonderful time.  My aunt, who is 82, looked great.  She was sitting with her feet tucked up under her in a noodley way that I can't even imagine doing now, much less at 82. 

Last night another storm moved in, weak but cold.  It's moving out this afternoon but temperatures are going to stay in the 40s all week.