Tis the season to be jolly. Or to carve your mother-in-laws face into ribbons
So: what are you going to be arguing about / muttering under your breath over the Christmas dinner table ?
Me, I’ll be grinding my teeth at, depsite me having made a limited amount of sauce so as to not to see my days of hard-work drowning in a sea of gravy, the first three bastards at the table use 7/8ths of the sauce for themselves, sending me scuttling out to make some extra. And no, I’m not “just gonna make more of it in the first fucking place”
There will also be the annual talk of “aren’t devils on horseback” an appertizer? No fuck OFF. They go with EVERYTHING . In fact , one of them is hidden deep within the christmas pudding, fuckos
There’ll be other issues, no doubt, but these are those that I know of in advance
my Mrs is working xmas day afternoon and boxing day morning so it’s a rushed present frenzy xmas morning and then round to the in-laws for dinner on the day. I’m ok with that as I get on well with both her parents in stark contrast to the stereotype. Only unfortunate thing is that I won’t be able to get nicely spannered until I get home xmas night.
Oh and the OP’s gravy conundrum is easily solved by making 2 batches, serving the table up with 1, then carrying your plate - pre gravied along with batch 2 to the table last. If some ignoranus decides to drown your food in gravy it’s their issue not yours. Also this gravy better be thick enough to use as grout and not that dishwater bum gravy that some serve up, if it is then you have no sympathy from me.
None of that unwanted guest shite here. It’ll just be me and Lou (with Maddie & Hildur looking on wistfully in anticipation of getting some scraps at the end)
Bucks Fizz will be consumed while preparing lunch
Followed by Prosecco or Champagne (haven’t made up my mind yet)
Pigs in blankets will be home made
Roast will be Turkey
Home made stuffing ftw
Sprouts will be consumed
My mega Yorkshire puds will be devoured
Lou will insist on Christmas pud, but I doubt I’ll have any room left to indulge (not desperately keen on it, anyway)
We are off to my parents. There will be no arguing about stuff, as it is Christmas and we are nice people.
Then to Dulwich on Boxing Day to see the other side of the family. Mild arguing as future father in law is an awkward bugger and usually finds a way to upset someone. I shall ignore all that and be in my happy place.
I will be deliberately offending the traditionalists and meat gorgers this Christmas (as usual).
Daughter is the only dinner guest (possibly her friend who will have been on night shift in Birmingham as a nurse and might join us).
I will do some massive fried breakfast and serve it with Bucks Fizz and probably port. Then we’ll open presents.
Prep for dinner will begin straight afterwards, as will the steady consumption of red wine and more port. The level of inebriation has a direct bearing on what time dinner is actually served.
Dinner will be -
Halloumi pigs in harissa spiced aubergine blankets with a pomegranate salsa - served with some kind of champagne cocktail
Main will be a homemade pastry wellington made with mushrooms and chestnuts topped with Camembert all sat on a port and cranberry sauce base.
(Dogs will have roast chicken breasts).
Roast spuds, parsnips, Yorkshire puds and other assorted veg etc with some homemade stuffing that I haven’t concocted yet.
Pudding will have been organised but either too full to put it in the oven or too pissed to remember and it will burn slowly into something resembling coal. Cue homemade tiramisu in reserve.
The variety of booze that has been served at each course will then take effect and a short nap will be required. After which the board games will come out.
In-laws will come round for about 7 or 8pm, at which point the booze fest will continue and games will be played until everyone is too pissed to concentrate - I have an electronic horse racing game and a jar of money for just this occasion.
Various nibbles and bite size nonsense will be provided for grazing purposes.
We’re at the in-laws. She’s a shit cook; while she says she likes veg slightly crunchy she does them for her husband, who likes everything mushy. Once at mine she insisted on having the onion and carrot that had cooked for two hours to make stock, didn’t want it to go to waste, bet that was nice. The meat will be overcooked, the juices thrown away and the gravy made from granules and the roast potatoes unseasoned.
I won’t talk about food much.
That said she’s lovely - so kind and warm with the kids.
Father in law is a cantankerous old fart. The best option is that he’ll have left out his hearing aid, and everyone will simply ignore him. He likes it that way, and so does everyone else. I won’t be talking Brexit with him. Interestingly, he keeps detailed photo albums of his sons, documenting their lives and achievements, but doesn’t do this with my wife because, well, lack of penis. Cunt.
I can never reconcile the above with the amount of time he spends doing loads of stuff for charity, visiting forces widows all over the area and making a genuine difference to many people’s lives.
Basically, I shall be picking my conversations carefully.
Interestingly, he keeps detailed photo albums of his sons, documenting their lives and achievements, but doesn’t do this with my wife because, well, lack of penis. Cunt.
Fuck me, that’s terrible. And I had really shit in laws. Never one to miss the opportunity to fuck things up because of principals up I wouldn’t let the cunt in my house or go to his.
Probably just the four of us here, and requests for more food than we can eat in a week, and that with me at pre-surgery eating capacity. As it is I won’t even eat as much as the 5 year old
The boys have largely picked the menu, so it will be tuna mayo starter, the the usual assorted bollocks of turkey, not-quite-gammon (because France), pigs in blankets, pork, lemon and thyme stuffing, roast potatoes, assorted other veg, and sprouts so that the wench can stink the house out as badly as the dog.
There are calls for a French Bouche de Noel to go alongside a plum pudding, but I’m not sure I can be arsed with that so mostly hoping everyone forgets about it.
None of us can drink due to meds (or age), so I will no doubt be punching walls by about 14:00 and the boys will be tearing the shit out of everything in a sugar fuelled rampage.
God I hate Christmas, it really is as shit as can possibly be.
