To end with, an English Christmas present: ELIZABETH DAVID’S CHRISTMAS (Godine, $25.95), assembled by David’s friend and editor, Jill Norman, from articles and papers for a holiday volume the renowned food writer left at her death in 1992. Though David begins by lamenting the season’s “grisly orgy of spending and cooking and anxiety” (“There are times indeed when it’s difficult not to regret the failure of the Cromwell regime’s bid to suppress the whole thing”), she forges ahead all but encyclopedically, with the mandatory stuffed turkeys and roast geese and Christmas puddings and a great deal of information about age-old and sometimes lost traditions. There are also ideas for meals before and especially after the big day, when revelers are likely to feel “a craving for a few vegetables freshly and simply cooked . . . without so much as a sniff of the turkey or ham leftovers.” I tried a couple of sweet-and-sour cabbage recipes, one Italian-inspired, the other a slow-cooking dish with smoked sausage; both were delicious. Encouraged by McLagan’s and Hopkinson’s enthusiasm for suet, I even took the plunge and bought a pound in order to make David’s mincemeat. (I won’t know how it comes out for a few weeks yet.)
Like all of David’s books, this one is even better for daydreaming. The author seems to have viewed it that way herself. As much as she loved thinking about food and sharing it with friends and family, her own idea of a fine holiday was to “stay in bed, making myself lunch on a tray. Smoked salmon, home-made bread, butter, lovely cold white Alsace wine. A glorious way to celebrate Christmas.”
