And so this is Christmas

I can hardly believe that Christmas is over for another year.

When I was little, I’d spend a great deal of the year wishing that Christmas would hurry up and arrive, and then when it finally did, the day would drag on after lunch when all the presents were open and everybody was napping – and I’d wish the day would end. Now, it astounds me how quickly Christmas comes and goes, and I wish that the year, and Christmas Day itself, would slow down.

This Christmas was the first year that Mr Posy and I were actually living together, and it was the first in a few years that we were actually in PosyTown for Christmas. The last couple of years we spent Christmas in Sunny Sydney, and the year before that we spent our Christmas in New York City. It was also the first year in many, many years that both Mr Posy’s and my family were all in PosyTown for Christmas.

It took me a little longer than usual to get into the Christmas Spirit this year, but by the time Christmas Eve rolled around, I had gorged on Christmas carols and candy canes and Marshmallow Santas and Magical Popping Elves. I was ready.

Christmas Eve was an early-mark from work, being pampered by my hairdresser, sneaky cocktails with a good friend, wrapping the last of the presents, and helping watching Mr Posy prepare Christmas Day desserts (Nigella’s Chocolate Mousse Cake, and Nigella’s Molten Chocolate Babycakes). I had intended to go to Midnight Mass, but I… fell asleep. Ahem.

I woke early on Christmas Day. Mr Posy woke even earlier than I did, and went to the Greek Church with his parents. I went to the pool and smashed out some laps. By 10am, Mr Posy and I were sitting down to Ricotta Hotcakes with Banana and Honeycomb Butter, coffee (love you, Nespresso), and Miracle on 34th Street. By 10.30 am, Mr Posy was begging to open presents.

Gifts, just begging to be unwrapped..

“It’s 10.30 am, why haven’t we opened presents yet? We’ve had breakfast, and we’re dressed! Can we open presents now?”

You’d think he was 10 years old again. I knew that in less than fifteen minutes, our presents would be open, the floor would be strewn with gift wrap, and that would be the end to the first part of the day. Our part of the day. I wanted to savour it.

But I also wanted to unwrap the verylargegift with my name on it.

Hello, lover.

I was particularly spoilt this year. Mr Posy Santa bought me a KitchenAid. In red (because everybody knows red goes faster). I suspect that Santa’s new love for cooking may have been the motive driving force behind my gift. I just love it! I also received a  lovely Hermès Twilly.

Soon after, it was time to visit Mr Posy’s family (who we all remember live across the road). Mr Posy’s sister-in-law had put on quite a feast. I monopolised Niece Posy for most of the afternoon – she’s six months old now, and when she smiles at me, my heart aches. She’s just beautiful. After a couple of cocktails, too much lamb, Mr Posy’s Chocolate Mousse Cake, and more presents, it was time to move on to the final instalment of the day – with my family.

Despite my mum being quite sick the past couple of months, she really outdid herself this Christmas. She made an amazing roast dinner, and she’d bought presents for everybody – including my brother’s two “orphan” workmates.

I bought Mum an Hermès scarf for Christmas, which she loved – especially as her hair started falling out a day or so prior (but not noticeably so).

Dinner was a little awkward, but it was always going to be this year. Mr Posy’s Molten Chocolate Babycakes went down a treat, although I was so stuffed that I managed to only eat half my serve.

As has become Christmas tradition for Mr Posy and me, the day ended with National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. And I was sure I wouldn’t need to eat again for a week.

I cannot believe that today is New Year’s Eve-Eve.

Mr Posy learns to cook

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Mr Posy is learning to cook. Up until a couple of months ago he’d never so much as cracked an egg in his life, and he thought that raw cookie dough went on a tray into the fridge (until I explained they went in the oven to bake). Now you’d think he was cooking for his life. Or for a Top 12 spot on Junior Masterchef.

Not one to start off with something simple, like scrambled eggs, or toast, Mr Posy’s first dish was an omelette. An egg white omelette. I came out of the bedroom one morning to find him in the kitchen picking shells and egg yolk out of his egg white mix, and trying to work out whether the frying pan was hot enough. PosyDog and I settled into our front-row seats to watch history in the making.

Unfortunately, the pan had a little too much heat, and Mr Posy wasn’t quite quick enough in getting his ingredients into the pan (and was a little too generous with his vegetables), which resulted in… a bit of a mess, quite frankly. Mr Posy assures me that his dish was delicious, regardless of appearance. I skipped breakfast.

Mr Posy next decided to tackle crepes. Gluten-free crepes. Anybody who has ever cooked with gluten-free flour before will know that it can be a biotch painful to cook with, requiring a little extra liquid, and a lot of TLC. Thankfully, I recently found that White Wings make fantastic gluten-free flour – so fantastic that you’d never know you were eating a dish free from gluten – so I knew Mr Posy was in safe hands, but I was still scared nervous. He was a little heavy-handed with the Nutella, but otherwise they were pretty damn amazing. Even if his pan did have too much heat at first (recurring theme here?), which resulted in charred crepes. That promptly went in the bin.

After two dishes, Mr Posy had worked up some confidence, and decided that his next mission would be Bill Granger’s Ricotta Hotcakes with Honeycomb Butter. Gluten-free. I was dubious, given his track record.

His “secret” ingredient for the honeycomb butter was a Crunchie, with the chocolate scraped off.

“I have a good honeycomb recipe, if you want it?” I offered.

“No, it’s okay – this Crunchie is perfect!”

“I’m pretty sure Bill Granger doesn’t use butchered Crunchies in his honeycomb butter,” I teased.

I had to eat my words the following morning when Mr Posy served up the most delicious hotcakes I have ever tasted. Better than Bill Granger’s. The hotcakes were thinner than what Mr Posy had eaten at Bill’s, but they tasted less flour-y/dough-y. The honeycomb butter was to die for.

A few mornings of Ricotta Hotcakes for breakfast and I worried that I was going to start piling on the pounds. PosyDog came to my rescue and scoffed my breakfast one morning when I went left the room for a brief moment to get something. She was alone for less than two minutes, and she managed to demolish my hotcakes, banana and honeycomb butter. I came back to find her licking the plate clean.

Mr Posy later announced that he had “conquered breakfasts, and was moving on to dinners”. I bought him Jamie Oliver’s Ministry of Food (Anyone can learn to cook in 24 hours). He whipped up Jamie’s Lasagne that night. It took him 3 hours. I had avocado on toast for dinner.