Stir It Up

Well, Anglo-gourmands, if you didn’t know, this past Sunday was Stir-Up Sunday. Not a reason to channel your inner Bob Marley, (though any day is a good day to try). In the UK, Stir-up Sunday comes pre-loaded with booze, fruit, suet, and tradition as the last Sunday before Advent when we prepare our Christmas cakes and mince pies to give it all ample time to mature. I love the idea that right as we’re bearing down on the whole madhouse that is Christmas, especially today’s commercial, social, festive frenzy, we should put on the brakes, don our domestic hats and pulverize dry fruit.

I do have wonderful childhood memories of making Christmas cakes with my mother from scratch. We’d carefully roll out a smooth marzipan mantle to drape over the Christmas cake, beat icing into stiff peaks, press tiny silver baubles into place, and compose miniature scenes with quirky Christmas figurines year after year. And when that was done, we’d brine and bread a huge ham for Boxing Day. I can’t remember if we made our plum puddings but I know they took hours to steam in their cheesecloth wraps. Who knows, we probably whipped up mini soufflés for tea and shook up the perfect martini in our kitchen pinnies.

The tradition of Stir-up Sunday may be something of a dinosaur to the masses but, in the states, the proximity of Thanksgiving to Christmas – with just four short weeks in between – does a good job of getting the ball rolling. Thanksgiving is all about the little things: about taking time to prepare a home-cooked feast, try out new twists on traditional recipes, and produce gargantuan quantities to feed on demand to households of family and friends.

I view Stir-up Sunday as a sneaky chance to test-drive a mini version of the T-Day spread and get a head start on the plates of cookies I’ll be called on to produce for a host of mandatory cookie swaps. This weekend things were decidedly busy in our house but I was determined to try. Cheating just a little, I bought a trussed, seasoned, ready to roast chicken that any living thing with opposable thumbs could cook. On Sunday morning, it still felt important to bake so I busted out a Nigella Lawson scone mix, an excuse for pre-measured flour, salt and sugar. Add butter and milk and - voila! – freshly-baked scones. My father-in-law has a weak spot for old fashioned mince pies so I decided to make those too. Only let’s say I bought my pastry and used imported jars of British mincemeat. They still look pretty but let’s stay mum about the shortcuts.

Thanksgiving is my favourite adopted American holiday, one I can literally get my chops into. It’s beauty lies in the fact that there’s a whole lot of eating, plenty of booze (eggnog!) and absolutely no presents. Despite being steeped in the very earliest of American history, it seems decidedly atypical of the advertising industry to actively promote home-cooking and unabashed gluttony with virtually no knock-on commercial benefit outside the farm or supermarket. It doesn’t seem as though the new selection of Thanksgiving greeting cards has really taken root and, being sandwiched between Halloween and the winter holidays, there’s no demand for Pilgrim costumes or seasonal gift wrap.

Despite the season, a friend announced she had made the decision to give up coffee and wine. The very idea made me shudder. Coffee and wine are two of my absolute favourite things happily marking the start and end of my day, caffeine and tannins be damned. And since Thanksgiving is a time of to name all the things for which you’re thankful, I realized mine are all things that bring me daily happiness and joy. While I’m thankful for my coffee and wine, I’m also thankful for our perpetually well-stocked pantry so that I can create ever more complex dinners, even when my dining companions are often under 5 years old. I’m especially thankful our new boiler produces piping hot, steamy showers to rival any Old Spice ad. And I’m thankful for my chaotic household that can make me laugh and feel utterly crazed all at the same time.

If, like me, you didn’t quite get to grips with your cookies and pies from scratch on Stir-up Sunday, worry not. When you’re sitting around your turkey, or tofurkey, be grateful for a guilt-free holiday season and give thanks for the stable of celebrity cooks that are bound to see us through.





(Repeat post from Nov. 2010)