A Christmas List

Cast Iron Christmas Champignons
Prepared by my husband.
An eager, friendly, and patient cook.

Merry Christmas, dear readers. I hope it was memorable and filling. My Christmas morning was filled with the savory smells of mushrooms, garlic and shallots sweating together in a cast iron skillet, under the watchful eye of a handsome man. Thanks, Christmas!














I was perusing I'll Sleep When They're Grown and found 5 Things That Make Christmas Christmas: a listography challenge. It's not a race, or for a grade, but as a nod of respect to list-making, I abandoned making an important, don't-forget-anything Christmas Eve grocery list in favor of this one. Here we go.

5 Things that make Christmas Christmas:




1. Bringing home a fresh, fragrant, tannenbaum, trimming it to a pleasing shape, rubbing the clippings all over my hands, then rubbing my hands all over my body.

Best friends. One of us has sap in our back pockets.

2. Taking in the Christmas light displays. This year we especially enjoyed free admission to the Bellevue Botanical Gardens' "Garden D'Lights". An inviting stroll through a dormant flower garden hosting a bevy of LED flowers and trees and butterflies, and with more whimsy than Lewis Carroll could shake an acid trip at. We also did drive-bys past the homes of high-functioning Christmas fanatics. This year we sought out the Helmstetler Family Christmas Spectacular, which boasts approximately 60,000 lights that are programmed to dance and strobe everyone into epileptic fits of holiday fancy, set to music on a local station.

Still courtesy of West Seattle Blog and someone's debilitating Christmas mania

3. Feasting my ears on tried and true Christmas songs. I find new favorites every year. Kay Starr's "December" really played my song this season. Plans are loosely coming together to produce a White Christmas film sequence next year. With an elaborate camera crew and a tandem bike this dream could become a reality in a matter of hours.

Don't go, Christmas.

4. Christmas card fails. Every year it's always the same. I'll grab a daunting stack of cards, address all the envelopes, and stack them on a pile of good intentions, some of which never get stamped and delivered. I get in over my head with these things.

   5. Building gingerbread real estate. This year, I waited too late to get a team together so I'm the lone architect. Also designer, construction foreman, investor, permit office manager, town mayor, etc. As investment broker, I had to scan the markets for wholesale gingerbread, but as we all know, it's tough out there. I looked at my stock options and ended up investing in graham crackers, frosting and an assortment of sugary accoutrements.

1. Rally your materials

2. Measure, make plans and blueprints you won't use

3. Go. To. Town. 

4. Stick a sold sign in the yard.
 Cuz it just did.

In the spirit of the holidays, we splurged this week on a yelp deal and dined rodizio at the Amazon Grill. The buffalo at this place was A+ amazing delicious, but all the other meats came and went in a haze. We sat down with a large party at a clean table and left it a soiled mess. I was excited by the fried bananas with the first round of meats, but some time came and went between the meat visits, and at a big table of primed eaters, the absence stirred up some ill-will toward our servers. Tongs in hand, the table was growing restless with meat lust. You have never felt less like a hunter/gatherer than when you're snapping air with empty tongs meant to delicately fetch you a slice of meat that's too good to eat every night of the week. There suddenly seems an empty place by your water glass where there should be a little bell. To make them bring more meat. Then more still. It's meat fever and you've got it.
 Presented nicely with an awkward touch of cafeteria pans, the salad bar had plenty to offer, but seemed a little unenthusiastic. I guess it was a Tuesday. Ultimately, there was plenty of dining and whining to be done that night, making Amazon Grill the Dine and Whine of the week. Merry Christmas, you gave us mixed feelings and meat comas.