Food Humor: My Annual Christmas Eve Party

I host the annual family and friends Christmas Eve get together. Some of the members of my New England family always make their usual traditional dishes; others have made it their own tradition to surprise everyone with something new and unique.

No matter what, it is a big holiday event filled with lots of food, fun, and love. Oh, and there is plenty of food-related humor that accompanies my party.

Funny Christmas Eve Food Traditions

I come from a healthy eclectic mix of Scottish and Irish on my mom's side. Polish on my dad's. So what does a Scotch-Irish-Polish girl contribute to the holiday party food table? Tattie soup or Pierogi casserole? No - I make meatballs! Yep, somehow I was roped into making meatballs ten years ago and no one has let me off the hook since.

On the bright side, I hope this is because my meatballs are dizzyingly yummy and highly sought after; not because no one else wants to make 50, gargantuan meatballs. I do not believe in skimping and will not accept wimpy meatballs unless they are in soup.

Not So Famous Beans

One of my brothers never fails to make his famous barbeque beans. Well, the beans are famous within the confines of his mind anyway. Funny thing, though, there isn't even a smidge of barbecue sauce in his beans. In fact, there is actually nothing barbequey about them. Go figure. His beans are terrific all the same and one of my favorite dishes.

Snubbing Lobster Newburg

My sister is a kitchen magician. She conjures up and cooks the daily menu at a private boarding school in New Hampshire. She is a genius when it comes to food. Every Christmas Eve, people at my party anxiously wait for my sister to arrive. Like a queen carrying her scepter, she enters my kitchen clutching her steaming hot crock of lobster Newburg gold. But, she is wearing mittens instead of white gloves.

There are always those who rush to help, lest she spill a drop of the Newburg nectar. They are like the Christmas Eve food sentinels for heaven's sake. It's crazy. Where am I going with this you wonder? I loathe lobster Newburg. I cannot even stand the smell of this dish.

Does my sister know of my disdain for this offering she brings? Absolutely! We simply laugh (her more than I) at the fact that her crock full of holiday goodwill makes me ill. That is what keeps my family strong. I suppose my sister would think it paltry of me not to share why I so dislike lobster Newburg. She may read this so I feel I have to fess up.

Welsh Rarebit Scary Memory

Once a week in elementary school, the cafeteria staff made Welsh Rarebit. I despised this lunch and the smell. As it simmered away in several huge pots on the big ole stoves in the basement, the smell persistently wafted through the school until it reached me on the third floor. I even convinced myself that my coat smelled of relsh rabbit, which is how we pronounced it as kids.

On rainy or winter days, when the aged wood floors in my school were wet, they somehow smelled vaguely reminiscent of Welsh Rarebit. The smell of lobster Newburg never fails to remind me of that dreadful odor. Some things just never leave a person.

Chocolate Sister Truce

On Christmas Eve, my sister brings me a prettily-wrapped box of handmade chocolate raspberry crèmes. It is a special treat I look forward to every year. Getting that box of chocolates in my hand is worth dealing with the smell of the lobster Newburg and the awful recollection it triggers of relsh rabbit. Besides, it is a fabulous memory my daughters and grand kids will share long after my raspberry crèmes are gone.