T'was the night before Christmas
I don’t think most people’s lives are shaped by the actual date of their birth, quite like people born on or adjacent to a holiday. I was born at noon on December 24th 19falalalala. My full name is Nicole Noelle. I was brought home from the hospital in a stocking. I’ve competed with Jesus Christ for attention every year of my life, and you better believe he never loses. My mom, born on the 4th of July (seriously), has made the greatest effort to always make Christmas Eve feel like my birthday. My aunt Nan always threw the most incredible Christmas Eve party. Her walkway was lined with paper bag luminaries leading everyone to the hot rum punch on the stove and a half-drunk Santa by the fire in the living room. By high school we were far too old to be sitting on Santa’s lap, but tradition insisted. To this day I absolutely hate having happy birthday sung to me. I blame the room full of people singing to me while I was awkwardly hovering in a squat, trying not to actually sit on Santa’s velvet pants.
I grew up with what I later understood to be immense privilege. We were showered with beautiful presents that took serious effort in the age before internet shopping. One year I got a Barbie Dream Boat with a working smoothie blender on the deck of the behemoth vessel. I quickly learned, on her maiden voyage in the bathtub, that this boat shaped piece of plastic was in fact not seaworthy. Christmas morning was the first and last Barbie smoothie I ever made. I will always be grateful for the Spice Girls album in my stocking. It set the tone for my style revolution over the next few years. I’m still trying to forget the year I got The 40 Year Old Virgin DVD. We enjoyed the once a year brunch of Sausage and Egg Casserole and then we sat down, as a family, to watch the movie. As a 17-year-old this was an absolutely horrifying movie experience to share with your parents. If you’ve seen it, you know why.
Having a birthday on Christmas Eve, means I turned 21 on Christmas Eve. I had secretly been enjoying holiday drinks for many years prior but, this year was exceptionally exciting. After a few glasses of champagne and some hot rum punch, our family headed to Midnight Mass. Someone else in attendance enjoyed the decadence of the holidays as much as I had that night. They ripped a huge, loud, groaning fart right in silence between the reading of the gospel and the singing of the Hallelujah. It took one glance in my sisters’ direction to add gasoline to the fire of my bursting composure and the laughter exploded. It was the kind of laughter accelerated by eye contact with anyone really but especially your closest confidants – this included all our neighbors in the surrounding pews. I was hysterical and if you know anyone in my family you know hysterical comes with uncontrolled squeaks and squeals, add holiday cocktails and I was a goner. Needless to say, I was excused early from Christmas mass that year.
All these thoughts are truly my fondest memories of the holidays. There are so many more - like the time I offered to drive home from the annual party, my dad refused the offer and then he backed into the bumper of the car behind us (insert more hysterics, only from the teenage girls in the backseat) – that rum punch, I tell ya! My point being memories and traditions are part of what keep us whole and grounded. They create excitement for the year to come. Last Christmas I realized I had reached the age where I was now the tradition creator. I have a family of my own and the moving parts of adulthood have changed our paths and our plans for the holidays. In 2020 our traditions changed because of means outside of our control but sometimes breaking from what we know is one of the most important things we can do for ourselves. As I move from my 33rd to 34th year of life (falalalala 1987) I plan to shed my skin to make room for new growth, a wider field of vision, more mental space and an outlook big enough to know that not everything is permanent, but the good memories will always be funny and heartwarming.
It will come as no surprise that the only traditions created in the Thebault household thus far are food related. The menu that accompanies this month’s letter is not necessarily intended for a fancy Christmas dinner. It’s a super hygge (cozy on steroids) meal that would be amazing for a cold dark winter night between Christmas and New Years. It begs for a fireplace and some warm socks to join in the fun. I’ve included three staple recipes that will forever live on as December traditions – Uncle Jeff’s Rum Punch, Carol’s Chocolate Bundt Cake and The Sausage and Egg Casserole, plus a few new favorites that I will certainly be adding in to the rotation. I hope we can all move into the New Year with love in our hearts, a wider field of vision, 3 doses of a vaccine and full bellies. Cheers to the good things to come and of course, that rum punch!
The Music
A fine playlist for the occassion
The Menu
Uncle Jeff’s Rum Punch How-To Rush Creek Reserve Crunchy Salad with Fennel, Almonds and Citrus Dijon Vin Twice Baked Mashed Potatoes The Simplest Boeuf Bourguignon Carol’s Chocolate Bundt Cake The Sausage and Egg Casserole (bonus for Christmas or New Years Morning)
The Wine
Division Pinot Noir Un - a very delightful, very drinkable pinot noir without the typical price tag. This wine is light and juicy enough to not dry out your palate but offers a balance to the rich heavy meal