A Christmas eve forage is the perfect pick-me-up for the season
Mistletoe is a rather tenacious parasite so wresting it from a tree trunk can be difficult. Yet I relish that slightly hazardous Christmas Eve task – usually with my sister leading the charge, Niwaki shears in hand. By this point in December, even the most verdant bits of festive greenery in our home will have lost some of their freshness and need an injection of glossy foliage. Our bosky hunting ground of choice is a Cambridge college’s orchard of gnarled and stooping apple trees. We’re quite sure that the gardeners won’t mind us giving their holly bushes a light pruning (though I admit that there’s a thrill in walking home with a sack of spiky, possibly illicit branches).
At the table, the leafy haul becomes a wild, unruly centrepiece for supper. It’s a rather Dickensian affair in my house, with candles burning and general merriment, but on Christmas Eve I stop short of preparing a big meal. The night before the big day is about bowls of soup, glasses of ice-cold fizz, smoked salmon sourced from Jollys of Orkney and the umami-rich (as well as hilariously named) Gentleman’s Relish, coupled with Stilton and pickled walnuts. When else will you find the time to truly savour a perfectly ripe persimmon or a clementine, with its leaves still clinging to the stalk?
Rushing to catch up on your wrapping, hurrying to the shops in search of the perfect ribbon – it has become a tradition to dash about on Christmas Eve. That final lap of a department store before closing time can feel like an Olympic pentathlon. For me, real branches are an antidote to the final burst of commerce that defines this time of year. What is it about the contours of a tree that remind me that Christmas is as old as the hills? Evergreens call to mind the resurgence of life at the moment of winter solstice, of Yule and the mysterious tradition of English orchard wassailing (singing to wake up trees). They make me think of Naturchläuse in Alpine spots such as Appenzell, where people dress up in costumes of moss, pine cones and fir branches to drive away winter.
Festooning your home with real greenery is worth the effort. To my table display, I like to add some deep-red amaryllis and berries. Their hit of colour contrasts with the white linen tablecloth, soon to be stained by glasses of barolo – as well as the imprint of long conversations and songs, which are always unique to each year. There’s a subliminal urge to bring fresh flowers to a table. The perishable nature of blooms and the fact that glossy cuts of holly are only here for a fleeting period help us see that the moment that matters is now. They announce, “Savour us before we wilt.”
These occasions when tables are laden with produce and promise also remind me of Dutch 17th-century depictions of edible delights. On a recent trip to the Museo del Prado in Madrid, I discovered Clara Peeters’ “Still Life with Flowers, a Silver-Gilt Goblet, Dried Fruit, Sweetmeats, Breadsticks, Wine and a Pewter Pitcher”. It shows a table heavy with food, rendered with glistening, almost photorealist clarity, even though it was painted in 1611. Peeters and her contemporaries, such as Osias Beert the Elder, were hooked on capturing the essence of a moment. With its sense of anticipation for a night of revelry, it’s a scene that still packs a punch.
Sophie Grove is the editor of ‘Konfekt’. Pick up the winter issue today – it’s full of snowy forays, recipes and ideas for the season.
