It’s that time of year again, just like all the “this time of years” that I can remember. Ever since I was a small lad, no bigger than a large cocker spaniel, I can remember the wait of the weeks leading up to the climax that was/is Christmas. We would sit around impatiently, eager for this moment to arrive, like drunken men at a bucks night, waiting for the stripper. Christmas is an exciting time of year for me, it leaves me wanting for nothing, everything about it is perfect. It is not even remotely similar to the paint job on the local public toilets… so dull and imperfect. Damn you dull and imperfect public toilets, you have no place in my Christmas.
My Christmas pretty much starts today. No, that doesn’t mean I am on holidays for two weeks like the remaining 98% of this country seems to be. I’m afraid being a chef means none of these little privileges are allowed. I get to feed hundreds of the people that flock to the Byron Bay area for their Christmas holidays, with its promise of magic weather, white sand, beautiful beaches and hundreds of local eateries to choose from… but only to realise that the reality of it is every other family within a thousand km radius has the same thought, like ants flocking to the fallen hamburger. So they are packed into little ant caravan parks and hotels, queue up for every meal, and battle for supremacy for space on the beach, walking the streets, and a seat in the dull assed public toilet… But that’s not my problem. My Christmas begins now anyway just because I have an uncanny ability to piggy-back a little holiday for myself in on the back of the fat little pig that is everyone elses time off.
My mum and nan arrive today by way of the great sky highway… the interweb super highway maybe? Or was that something else? Whatever. The thing is that my fam is arriving today and that damn well excites me like the crippled zebra excites the prowling lion… without so much blood. This is the first time in 10 years I will have Christmas with my mum and nan, and that is one thing I truly miss about home, so we’ve shipped them in and bought family Christmas to us!
So we will prepare a spread. A damn fine spread in fact. A spread that shall be comparable to the finest of spreads this home has ever seen… but not comparable to the spread of a cheap hooker, except in the aspect that it is going to be porn. Food porn. Hell yeah! I love food porn. It excites me more then a dirty you tube clip of Drew Barrymore and Cameron Diaz doing inappropriate (or maybe appropriate) things to each other. We have spent the last few days prepping meats, terrine, pates, chutneys, semi freddo, icecream, and prepping our wardrobes with pants that are a size too big for us… for now. We’ve stocked the larder with all we shall need to get through this Christmas, and the bar fridge has enough stocks of booze that it actually resembles a real live pub. Now all we need to do it sit back, crack a beer or two and wait for the day to arrive.
That’s all I got.
I hope it’s good for you and yours, whatever it is that constitutes a cracking Christmas in your neck of the world. Be safe, have fun and eat like you’re a fucking legend!