Filial Rituals

As I was lining the baking pan for my fruit cake, the same way I do every year, it occurred to me that the process probably wasn't necessary.

The original recipe calls for you to line the pan with a paper grocery sack, however, try to find one that isn't covered in dye, wax, BPA plasticizers, or worse these days is next to impossible. So, I use parchment. The process of lining the tin with greased paper was intended to help release the cake, and wrapping the tin itself in a double or triple layer of paper helped to insulate the cake during a long, relatively low temperature bake. Fruitcake is sticky and dense stuff after all, and earlier household ovens had large swings in temperature, if in fact you were able to control the temperature at all. They were smaller, and less well insulated, and the walls tended to become very hot. Contemporary ovens are decidedly less temperamental and comparatively spacious, and contemporary bakeware is thicker walled and is available in a variety of non-stick coatings, but I keep with tradition anyway. 

The ritual, I'm convinced, creates the results I desire, though I have no evidence to back up my conviction. I do it, because it's the way my mother did it, and she does it, because that is how her grandmother did it. My observance of this ritual isn't slavish or thoughtless, to the contrary, I do it precisely because it conjures childhood memories, and in some intangible way connects me to members of my family tree that I was not fortunate enough to meet.  The method, no matter how arduous is may seem today, goes back further than my great grandmother to a shared tradition common to my ancestors as well as other descendants of the English and Scottish heritage. And as a self professed Anglophile, I'm all too happy to try to take a walk in those shoes, any way I can. 

Hail the List Makers

It's that time of year again: when everything is meant to be joyful and bright, but we're all filled with a mixture of exhaustion, and dread. I don't pretend to have any magical answers to a happier holiday. At it's very best it can be hectic and overwhelming, and most of us, lets be honest here, end up getting through it, rather than celebrating it. There is just so much to do, work or school events, deadlines, shopping, wrapping, and the kind of cooking and baking most of us only do once a year. With all the added socializing and what can feel like enforced merriment, it's only normal that we all feel a mixture of excitement, nostalgia, longing, and truckloads of anxiety. Did I get the right gift? How am I going to finish everything in time? Will little Johnny remember his lines? Are we going to hit our goals for this quarter? Will this be the ring that makes her/him say yes? Did I remember to move the freakin' elf on a shelf? It doesn't matter what holiday you celebrate, if you're and adult, this is not a stress free time of year. 

My strategy for not only getting through the holidays, but actually creating little pockets of enjoyment within them, is to focus on what is most important to me. That would be, naturally, the food. The holiday I celebrate at this time of year is more atavistic than commercial: it's Pagan really. The holidays, to me, are all about feasting, and lighting a fire in the middle of the darkest months of winter. In the absence of a fire place, or an inferno of candles, twinkling lights are essential to lift my mood, as are foods that are filled with the essential - for me - flavors of Christmas: warm spices, dried fruits, sweet orange, sharp apple, oaky whisky, and earthy nuts.

Mr. Dickens has much to answer for, but, to this day it's treats like Figgy Pudding, Mincemeat Pies, Sugar Plums, and Fruitcake, (at least for me) that most evoke the feelings of an authentic Christmas. As much as I'm a fan of rituals and tradition, I have to be able to live in the contemporary world. Many a household argument has been had about my need to do things the most traditional "drawn out," "hardest way possible," but, even I have agree there are times you just have to "get there" as quickly as possible. As someone more eloquent that I am once said, perfection is the enemy of progress.

Take for instance my Figgy Puddy: it may be a more contemporary "cheaters" boiled version that eliminates the need for months of curing and basting in brandy, but the lemon sauce I serve with it is wholly my Great Grandmother's recipe. I DO make my own mincemeat, but the recipe I use is more akin to a quick jam or chutney, and it must be said, you can buy perfectly respectable - preservative free - mincemeat in the grocery stores and add your own touches at home, and no one need be the wiser.

To make Christmas pleasurable, my way, involves planning. I could not possibly do everything I like to do, and feel I ought to do, if I left myself with only a day or two to accomplish it. I also have to set limits. While making 12 different baked goods over the course of the holidays may seem like too much, it's a drastic reduction in labor to me. I think this already stressful time of year is made more stressful because well intentioned people don't take the time to really think about what they want to do, and how they are going to achieve it. And, it must be said, I am the King of procrastinators, but after so may years of collapsing next the the tree shortly after dinner on Christmas day -  because I'd been up all night the night before - I have finally learned my lesson.

I start my list making, and meal planning, with the things I know are best after they've aged. Fruit Cake can be made months in advance but, as I've mentioned, it doesn't have to be to be enjoyable. A true short bread, however, needs to cure, and Christmas Pudding really should sit and ripen for at least a week or two, so I start with these, and leave the desserts I'm making for events, say the snowman cake I'm bringing to the extended family celebration, until last. 

On top of the planning strategy, at this time of year, I utilize every moment of my time. That means stealing time at the beginning and end of the day, and everywhere I can. For example, the fruits for my fruit cake are boiled in brandy the night before I make the cake, but this takes less than an hour and can be done days in advance, and stored in an airtight container in the fridge until I'M ready. Baking potatoes can be tucked into the oven any time it's on, ready to be dressed up for a last minute meal, and quart containers of soup made and frozen in the fall are even better reheated with a fresh salad, or warmed crusty bread. One of my favorite holiday staples, icebox butter cookies, can be made more than a month in advance. Making the dough takes minutes, and they can then be thawed quickly, and baked whenever they're needed. And since thawing and baking mostly involve waiting, I can do other projects in the gaps. Best of all, if I run short on time, they'll hold into the new year.  

There was a time when I could cocoon myself in my own kitchen, but I live with three other adults (all family) who also need meals and a certain amount of space to themselves. Whenever possible, I try to leave more involved and fiddly projects, say rolling out pastry, or cutting and decorating sugar cookies, until everyone else is out of the house, or out cold in bed. 

I know this all sounds like I'm preparing to go into battle, perhaps I am, but I am perfectly happy in the kitchen, doing things, and these pockets of quiet and productivity are, for me, the best cure for all the stressors of the world that exist beyond my kitchen door. And the best antidote to being overwhelmed by everything I have to do, is being able to look at a list of everything I've already accomplished. There is nothing so bolstering to my confidence than seeing that thick black line dawn through a completed task. 

Letting Go

Without placing a value judgement on it, I am, it has to be said, a rather controlling and impatient person. These traits have served me well in the kitchen, writing, design, soap making, and in my work in the event and floral industry. Again, it just is, what it is. I'm a creative and intelligent person, and I have mild ADHD. I NEED order, structure, deadlines, and a distraction free environment to function at my best. And, the work must be engaging enough, mentally and physically, to keep me on task, which coincidentally tends to foster a certain level of attention to detail. Like many ADHD sufferers, I tend to do things full tilt, or not at all. I am also a rather dichotomous person, and as much as I can seem to thrive in chaos, I also require long periods of quiet, and solitude. Thinking on my feet is only possible because there is a mountain of order, structure, and deadlines, running through my head like the scrolling digital readouts at the stock exchange...and, it never stops. 

All that being said, I think I may be finally beginning to accept that I cannot control everything!

As much as the intent is to be helpful and make everything easier for everyone - most of all me -  I don't think it is truly helpful anymore. I end up feeling overwhelmed and resentful, and everyone else ends up feeling uncomfortable, left out, or guilty, when I am busy pretending everything is O.K. and they can plainly see my hair is on fire! Not having had the experience of being a parent, it's difficult for me to allow others to struggle when I know I can do better, or at least I think I can. I even know that for my own sanity and their self esteem, I should let them do it, especially if they have to struggle and overcome adversity. But, then impatience rears it head, and there I am stepping in, and taking over again. 

The painful truth is, I just can't do it all, and I've been making myself unhappy, for years, by trying. The struggle, at least for me, is being able to tell when it is better for me to do it myself, and when I should delegate, and then let go of whatever it is I've given away.  The letting go part is, I probably don't need to say this, where the difficulty lies. I AM a perfectionist after all. But, there are things in life that don't require perfection or precision - or so I'm told - and it's probably time that I learned to let those things go.