Boxing Day Chillfest

First Boxing Day in years that I haven't cooked a three-course meal, instead we had a hot, peppery soup and delicious potato soda bread. Desserts were the sherry trifle and the Sicilian Orange and Almond Cake. I have to say that this has been the best Boxing Day ever. Here are some pictures to remind me...

Martha and Fergus working on 'You Are My Sunshine'.

Roy wanted to duet with Hannah but he stank of dead sea bream.

Evie just wanted Fergus to read her a story.

Alan and Jess began the love affair of the year.

Looking Forward

Even though the turkey legs were a little overdone, as Boxing Day Disasters go 2013 wasn't that bad a year.

I hope it’s not tempting fate to say so but this year I am really looking forward to Christmas. There are several reasons for this happy state of affairs. The first is, that when we had our recent family celebration in Sligo, I had the opportunity to give Christmas gifts to family members who live in far-away places. No stressing about getting things into the post! Another reason is that we have decided not to do the Boxing Day dinner for it had become a serious source of seasonal stress and I had stopped enjoying it. Then, of course there is the fact that our responsibilities have diminished as there is no elderly, bed-ridden, Christmas-hating person and no carers coming in on top of us on our family day.

The following is a throwback post written nearly five years ago. It tells the tale of the worst Boxing Day dinner ever. I still get shivers when I think of it.

It has taken me a while to be able to share this story. I must warn you in advance that it is a very sad story and that you will probably cry. This is the story of Nelly's Boxing Day Dinner Disaster.

My day began at 6am Why so early? I wanted to get a handle on my day and a start made on my enormous 22 pound Black Norfolk Turkey, a gift from Clint.

By 10:30am the turkey was thoroughly cooked, in fact, it was a tad over-cooked. I was a little dismayed but Bert said, never to worry, sliced in gravy, nobody would notice a thing. Still, I was embarrassed to see it sitting there all black skin and singed legs so I got Bert to slice it up and I tucked it away out of sight.

All was under control – desserts ready, most vegetables prepped, a nice pork roast sizzling away in the slow cooker. I just had some stuffing to prepare. At 2pm the pork was succulent and only needed a quick blast in the oven to make the crackling. This was a method I was quite confident about as I'd cooked pork in the slow cooker at least a dozen times.

I put the oven on to high and left it for thirty minutes. To tell the truth, I got involved with other tasks. Suddenly I remembered I needed to put the pork in for a blast of heat so transferred it to a roasting tin. Over to the oven, door open....

Oh dear God! There were my turkey slices, burned, dried out, totally fucked. I was so distraught I dropped the pork whereupon it fell on the floor and disintegrated. See! I said you would cry. I certainly did.

What Happened Next?

I saw Bert coming across the yard carrying a bucket of logs. I ran to the door. I sobbed,

Bert! Come in! Something terrible has happened!

He took one look at my anguished face, dropped the logs and ran in. I believe he thought I had discovered his mother lying dead. Little did he know it was far worse than that.

Then What Happened?

I had hysterics.

Then What Happened?

I stopped crying and went to collect Hannah and her friends. On the way in I started howling again thinking of that noble turkey who had lived and died in vain. I gathered up my guests who. I believe, were rather apprehensive about their evening's entertainment.

Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch

Zoe and family arrived and measures were discussed as to how dinner could be salvaged. With the help of my lovely guests, we saved the day. There was enough meat underneath the burned turkey and above the splattered pork to feed us all. Second helpings were in short supply but thankfully there were lots of desserts.

Last Year's Boxing Day Dinner

I seem to remember that there was also some sort of disaster at the 2010 Boxing Day dinner. I don't recall what it was about but it culminated in me running out and sobbing in the polytunnel and when I allowed myself to be persuaded back into the house the guests had eaten all the food. Ah well. I dare say it served me right for being such a hysterical bitch.

Funky Funk Donkey

I really do hate this time of year. It's dank and gloomy and I have a rotten cold which I caught from Bert and he caught from Evie. Bert's was man-flu but I got the girly version which means I still have to make the dinner.

Thankfully Christmas will soon be over. My heart always lifts after Christmas. My favourite day of the year is Boxing Day because it's 364 whole days to the next one. This year we are going to Norfolk to see baby James and his folks. We are taking the van and, I swear, we could have got flights to New York for the price of it.

Today's achievements? I went out and looked at the polytunnel. I lifted some begonia corms and harvested some kale. Made a chicken pie (frozen pastry) and crispy kale for dinner.

Today's goggle box fix? The last episode of Catastrophe and most recent episode of Fargo. I watch too much TV these days.

Most irritating thing on the news? Donald Trump. As nephew Ryan wrote,

I'm with you Donald, and I also think we should ban the sea until we know more about the rain.

Most heart-warming news item? The donkey that was rescued from the flood.

Happy Donkey Saved From Floodwater Mike is the luckiest donkey in all of Ireland.
Posted by The Huffington Post on Monday, 7 December 2015

Boxing Day Dinners: The Good, The Bad & The Ugly

How good must it be when your older sister is in possession of a pink plastic Peppa Pig recorder that you want and that she will not let you have because she does not want your slabbers on it, and then, when you are at Nellybert's (your grandparents) Boxing Day party, a kind lady (Swisser) gives you a long tubular present wrapped in shiny red paper that looks like it might be a recorder? And your eyes light up with delighted anticipation and your granny helps you unwrap it (quick, quick!) and it is a recorder, a beautiful wooden recorder, all colours, including pink!

I think that the sight of Evie's thrilled face, when she got that recorder, was one of the best moments of our Boxing Day party. And Swisser didn’t even know she wanted one! What an inspired choice.

Miss Martha got a harmonica which delighted her.

This was the best Boxing Day in years. The food turned out well, a traditional turkey and ham dinner, with curried lamb for those who preferred it and a choice of five desserts. I made all the food myself except for the two very delicious ice-creams which were created by Zoe and Martha.

Tirimasu, Pear and Ginger Tart, Fruit Trifle, Vanilla Ice Cream, Chocolate & Whiskey Ice Cream

But as successful Boxing Day dinners do not make as entertaining a read as the disasters, I offer this for your reading pleasure,  

The 2011 Boxing Day Disaster

It has taken me a while to be able to share this story. I must warn you in advance that it is a very sad story and that you will probably cry. This is the story of Nelly's Boxing Day Dinner Disaster.

My day began at 6am Why so early? I wanted to get a handle on my day and a start made on my enormous 22 pound Black Norfolk Turkey, a gift from Clint.

By 10:30am the turkey was thoroughly cooked, in fact it was a tad over-cooked. I was a little dismayed but Bert said, never to worry, sliced in gravy, nobody would notice a thing. Still I was embarrassed to see it sitting there all black skin and singed legs so I got Bert to slice it up and I tucked it away out of sight.

All was under control – desserts ready, most vegetables prepped, a nice pork roast sizzling away in the slow cooker. I just had some stuffing to prepare. At 2pm the pork was succulent and only needed a quick blast in the oven to make the crackling. This was a method I was quite confident about as I'd cooked pork in the slow cooker at least a dozen times.

I put the oven on to high and left it for thirty minutes. To tell the truth I got involved with other tasks. Suddenly I remembered I needed to put the pork in for a blast of heat so transferred it to a roasting tin. Over to the oven, door open....

Oh dear God! There were my turkey slices, burned, dried out, totally fucked. I was so distraught I dropped the pork whereupon it fell on the floor and disintegrated. See! I said you would cry. I certainly did.

What Happened Next?

I saw Bert coming across the yard carrying a bucket of logs. I ran to the door. I sobbed,

Bert! Come in! Something terrible has happened!

He took one look at my anguished face, dropped the logs and ran in. I believe he thought I had discovered his mother lying dead. Little did he know it was far worse than that.

Then What Happened?

I had hysterics.

Then What Happened?

I stopped crying and went to collect Hannah and her friends. On the way in I started howling again thinking of that noble turkey who had lived and died in vain. I gathered up my guests who. I believe, were rather apprehensive about their evening's entertainment.

Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch

Zoe and family arrived and measures were discussed as to how dinner could be salvaged. With the help of my lovely guests we saved the day. There was enough meat underneath the burned turkey and above the splattered pork to feed us all. Second helpings were in short supply but thankfully there were lots of desserts.

Last Year's Boxing Day Dinner

I seem to remember that there was also some sort of disaster at the 2010 Boxing Day dinner. I don't recall what it was about but it culminated in me running out and sobbing in the polytunnel and when I allowed myself to be persuaded back into the house the guests had eaten all the food. Ah well. I dare say it served me right for being such an hysterical bitch.

Next Year's Boxing Day Dinner

If God spares us things will be very different in 2012. There will be no more trying to serve two kinds of potatoes, three kinds of vegetables, stuffing, turkey and other festive meats to a party of a dozen or more, all at the same time and without a warming oven or enough chairs. Next year I'm going to go for a Polish-Irish feast. There will be thirteen dishes, desserts, casseroles, fishy things, pickled cabbage, mixed vegetables, turkey, pork, soup, flans, salads etc. Many of these dishes will have been prepared in advance. There will be a stack of napkins, plates and cutlery. There will be glasses and at least three bottles of vodka. There will be crackers. Because this year I forgot to put the bloody crackers out. Ah well. Next year.

My Boxing Day Party

So - after a fortnight's shopping, cooking and freezing I was pushed out of the kitchen at the last minute and Bert took over. I already had the oven loaded with the children's food, pigs in blankets and shepherd's pie. By the time I realised what was going on Bert had all my gorgeous food back in the freezer and the adults also ate pigs in blankets. I think one of them might have got a portion of the shepherd's pie. They also ate some kind of a lacklustre salad, something entirely vile called 'chicken balls' and some insipid naan bread courtesy of Mr Asda. No one got to taste my vegetable curry, Bulgarian chicken or my spicy Caribbean beef. My parboiled potatoes were not roasted. My home made garlic bread was barely tasted. They didn't heat up my delicious red cabbage and no one fancied it cold.

What was I doing while Bert was barking orders in the kitchen? I was conducting wine tastings with some carefully selected and appreciative people, the kind of people that do not eat Asda chicken balls. I served the damson first, They were in ecstasies. Then it was the blackberry and raspberry. It was pronounced even better. By the time we were on the raspberry they were in country wine heaven. Swisser even offered to give me high sums for the rest of it. I told her it was beyond price.

Best bit? Miss Martha singing 'You Are My Sunshine' accompanied by Marty on the banjo.

Evie's best bit? Chicken balls.


Worst bit? When Jazzer got her mitts on Bert's clarinet and created a racket that sounded like a large drake in a bog being run over by a John Deere tractor.

The 2011 Boxing Day Disaster

It has taken me a while to be able to share this story. I must warn you in advance that it is a very sad story and that you will probably cry. This is the story of Nelly's Boxing Day Dinner Disaster.

My day began at 6am Why so early? I wanted to get a handle on my day and a start made on my enormous 22 pound Black Norfolk Turkey, a gift from Clint.

By 10:30am the turkey was thoroughly cooked, in fact it was a tad over-cooked. I was a little dismayed but Bert said, never to worry, sliced in gravy, nobody would notice a thing. Still I was embarrassed to see it sitting there all black skin and singed legs so I got Bert to slice it up and I tucked it away out of sight.

All was under control – desserts ready, most vegetables prepped, a nice pork roast sizzling away in the slow cooker. I just had some stuffing to prepare. At 2pm the pork was succulent and only needed a quick blast in the oven to make the crackling. This was a method I was quite confident about as I'd cooked pork in the slow cooker at least a dozen times.

I put the oven on to high and left it for thirty minutes. To tell the truth I got involved with other tasks. Suddenly I remembered I needed to put the pork in for a blast of heat so transferred it to a roasting tin. Over to the oven, door open....

Oh dear God! There were my turkey slices, burned, dried out, totally fucked. I was so distraught I dropped the pork whereupon it fell on the floor and disintegrated. See! I said you would cry. I certainly did.

What Happened Next?

I saw Bert coming across the yard carrying a bucket of logs. I ran to the door. I sobbed,

Bert! Come in! Something terrible has happened!

He took one look at my anguished face, dropped the logs and ran in. I believe he thought I had discovered his mother lying dead. Little did he know it was far worse than that.

Then What Happened?

I had hysterics.

Then What Happened?

I stopped crying and went to collect Hannah and her friends. On the way in I started howling again thinking of that noble turkey who had lived and died in vain. I gathered up my guests who. I believe, were rather apprehensive about their evening's entertainment.

Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch

Zoe and family arrived and measures were discussed as to how dinner could be salvaged. With the help of my lovely guests we saved the day. There was enough meat underneath the burned turkey and above the splattered pork to feed us all. Second helpings were in short supply but thankfully there were lots of desserts.

Last Year's Boxing Day Dinner

I seem to remember that there was also some sort of disaster at the 2010 Boxing Day dinner. I don't recall what it was about but it culminated in me running out and sobbing in the polytunnel and when I allowed myself to be persuaded back into the house the guests had eaten all the food. Ah well. I dare say it served me right for being such an hysterical bitch.

Next Year's Boxing Day Dinner

If God spares us things will be very different in 2012. There will be no more trying to serve two kinds of potatoes, three kinds of vegetables, stuffing, turkey and other festive meats to a party of a dozen or more, all at the same time and without a warming oven or enough chairs. Next year I'm going to go for a Polish-Irish feast. There will be thirteen dishes, desserts, casseroles, fishy things, pickled cabbage, mixed vegetables, turkey, pork, soup, flans, salads etc. Many of these dishes will have been prepared in advance. There will be a stack of napkins, plates and cutlery. There will be glasses and at least three bottles of vodka. There will be crackers. Because this year I forgot to put the bloody crackers out. Ah well. Next year.