A Peckham Family Christmas

Slightly insufferable pose c/o Christmas booze, Lol-hat c/o my sister, Uniqlo shirt, Etro skirt, Chiswick car boot sale boots. 2nd pic: propping myself up with a bottle of wine, naturellement
The O’Carrolls (well the London branch) don’t really stand to tradition, my dad always cooked the festive meal growing up and we had the traditional Christmas Eve trolley dash smash’n'grab. One year we even went to a Lebanese restaurant, I think when there’s just four of you in the country it ain’t no big thang. Over the years my sister and I have wrested culinary control and this year, armed with a colour-coded spreadsheet shopping list (no joke) we set out to smash those traditions further and give a big FU to the stupid turkey doing a fish. A handsome Arctic Char, stuffed with fennel with meaty lentils, delicious greens and goose fat roasties was a lighter version of the trad meal. We made up for it with home-cured gravadlax, endless chocolates, my sister’s gorgeous sausage rolls and a few hefty negronis.

It was an epic time of cat-sitting, gin-mulling, cheese-boarding, food coma-ing and ultimately stomach bug-ing which kind of jacksied my food plans for the next few days.

Recipes of the less obvious stuff to come over the next few days, the sausage rolls are adapted from a recipe by ol’ Fat Tongue, the negronis were made trad but with a drop of OJ to soften the boozy blow, Mishkins lethal mulled gin was adapted from a recipe here and the reviving, health-giving Christmas slaw is made thus:

Slice red, white and savoy cabbage in a food processor on the finest setting. Make up a vinaigrette with mustard, red wine vinegar, honey, smoked paprika, pepper, bit of hot sauce and sesame oil. Mix and leave for a while to let the flavours combine, it’s a really good antidote to a breakfast of Lindor, Ferrero and O’Gradys. Incidentally, while going through old posts on the blog I realised that there isn’t one single Christmas post that doesn’t give a mention to O’Gradys. God bless the generic supermarket Irish cream.

And because it’s not really Christmas unless you have a poinsettia on top of your telly…

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