This was the first time I hosted a Christmas dinner at our house. If my mom weren't here, I probably wouldn't have. I feel like it takes a certain kind of skill to throw successful parties, and a lot of it has to do with cooking.
Unless, of course, you're a millionaire's housewife and you get your people to contact people to cater to your event. That one's more up my alley but until then, I'm just a wife who's naturally good at intermittent fasting when no one's cooking.
After church in the morning, my mom cooked her famous caldereta and Raven iced the banana cupcakes we baked the day before.
I tried my hand at decorating the table with roses freshly picked from the front yard. They're very pretty additions to the centerpiece but bloody hell, cutting them from the prickly bush was torture and a half in itself!
My sister organised the charcuterie board. She's very good at that, with some French dry-cured sausage as the pièce de résistance. It was alright. I admit I finished the rest of it but that was only because the comté cheese was all gone and being a social eater, I needed something solid to go with the several glasses of wine that I had.
The Cienna I poured in my very fancy crystal vintage wine glass like a proper bourgeois while everyone else was drinking mojitos from their paper cups.
In my defense, the op shop only had two of the said wine glasses so I didn't really have enough for everyone, okay? I did offer them some Luminarc ones but maybe they didn't wanna be seen as bourgeoisie, which, according to the actual French at the table, was considered an insult.
But I think we made it clear I was a bourgeois, and not a bourgeoisie. I think. I hope.
"How do you pronounce this?" I asked Romaine, showing him the brand engraved on my cheese knife.
"Laguiole," he read in his perfect French accent. "It's expensive brand but you know in France, French people just use Made In China."
Ah, the "expensive" things you can get at the op shop!
But it was a memorable night with good friends and family around the extended dining table that didn't have enough seating some had to sit on computer chairs. We played records on Jeff's turntable that started with Christmas songs and Carole King which later transitioned to Micheal Jackson and Bob Marley as the night wore on.
A lot of eating. Some dancing. Corks popping. Candles burning. Comparing alcohol volume percentages amongst the four bottles of wine we've already had and not even getting tipsy.
More eating. Jeff drunkenly comparing Bob Marley to Albert Einstein and declaring both of them a genius. Laughters. Learning the Gen Z lingo.
It's giving a very merry Christmas. No caps.
Also, our selfies ate with the Kmart ring light.
*Raven at 7 years old
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