A Beginner's Guide To Christmas

Christmas Day: Turkey

Mum tried to pull the whole 'eight-hour flight' crap on me again but I refused to make lunch by myself. Yes, Mum, I was willing to ruin Christmas for the whole family. 

Lesson 20: Just because it's Christmas, it doesn't mean you have to take any shit or fall for emotional blackmail. 

So Stephen, Aubrey and I huddled in the kitchen, trying to decipher Dad's instructions that Mum had dictated to him. 

'Why isn't Dad in here helping?' I grumbled as Stephen and Aubrey debated over the oven temperature. 'It's his house and I bet he's a better cook than I am.'  

'We'll be alright.' Aubrey flashed me an irritatingly encouraging smile. 'We'll divide the tasks between the three of us and it won't seem so daunting then.' 

That was true. And Mum's sherry was taking the edge off my panic. 'So what are my jobs then?' 

Aubrey took over the turkey while I was in charge of potatoes and gravy and Stephen was to manage the vegetables and stuffing. That seemed simple enough and I didn't have to do anything with the potatoes or gravy yet so I had another drop of sherry and took myself off for a nap. 

Lesson 21: Don't get too complacent when it comes to Christmas lunch. 

'Where's Stephen?' My potatoes were doing wonderfully, with one lot roasting in the oven and the other boiling on the stove. I'd returned to the kitchen to turn the roast potatoes and was quite pleased with how golden they looked. 

'He had to pop out to find a shop for more batteries.' 

Lesson 22: If you've got kids, always have a vast supply of batteries ready for the big day. 

'The turkey's been resting long enough, I think. Are the potatoes nearly ready?' 

I gave the boiling potatoes a prick with a fork and beamed back at Aubrey. 'Ready. I just need to mash these.' 

Aubrey checked Stephen's vegetables. 'Brilliant. This wasn't so bad, was it?' 

See Lesson 21. 

'We've done a fantastic job.' After mashing the potatoes, all I had to do was make the gravy. 'Oh, balls.' En route to the potato masher, I spotted an oven dish filled with stuffing balls. Stuffing balls that Stephen had forgotten to put in the oven before swanning off to the shop. 'Do we have time to cook these?' 

Aubrey shook her head. 'We don't have another twenty minutes. Everything else will be cold by then. We'll just have to face your mom's wrath, I guess.' 

Mum's wrath? We'd made an entire Christmas lunch. If she had a problem with it, I'd show Mum what she could do with the stuffing balls. 

'It'll be fine.' I poured myself another glass of sherry before I began mashing the potatoes with gusto. I was exhausted thirty seconds later but it would do and I moved onto the gravy. 

'Is she having a laugh?' I re-read Dad's instructions but I'd been right the first time. Mum wanted me to make the gravy using the juices from the turkey. Sod that. Bisto would have to do. 

'Is that everything?' Aubrey asked, surveying our work. The turkey was golden and the veg was, well, veg but they looked edible. We'd done a bloody good job, stuffing balls aside. 

'What's that smell?' Stephen asked as he stepped into the kitchen, cheeks flushed from the cold. 

'What smell?' I asked but I'd already got a whiff of it and turned towards the oven with a yelp. Yanking the door open, thick smoke billowed and I took a step back. My lovely roast potatoes were ruined. 

See Lesson 21.