Christmas Dinner

With all the trimmings.

At home, Christmas Dinner is not something I get involved with at all. The kitchen becomes almost like a war zone.

There’s gravy splashing; flour clouding the air; timers going off left, right and centre; the sound of, “Where are the Yorkshires?!”; steam from the oven; a kettle boiling; clattering of pans; “There’s not enough pans!”; the dog scattering the floorboards, smug with some stolen food left unattended on the work-surface; “There’s not enough room in the oven!”; a smell of burning; “The stuffing! Get the tinfoil!”-

Hesitantly, I tiptoe into the kitchen, aware that everything is finely balanced and finely timed and ask, “Mum, do you need any help?”

And every year I get a, “GET OUT! Get out of my kitchen!” In the distance another timer goes off like a siren.

Despite the chaos, every year it is truly magical and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to match Mum’s Christmas Dinner.

Nevertheless, I have tried- to a varying success rate.

In my first year away from home, my flat mates and I attempted to make a roast. It was very merry, and the carrots were good, but not much else was. It led on to a very questionable Secret Santa.

Last year was almost a success. We were more ambitious. We had cauliflower cheese, honey-roasted veg, a roast chicken- all the works. Yet, we made the mistake of starting on the mulled wine before we started cooking. After that everything got a little disastrous. The good news was, we were too drunk to care.

But this year was the best year yet.

We began with a Christmas breakfast. Nutmeg and cinnamon pancakes with fresh and caramelised bananas, served with plenty of green tea.

Then we headed to the Exeter Christmas Markets and each bought a single £1 bauble each from an adorable stand to hang on our newly decorated Christmas tree. It was kinda cheesy, but we each made a wish.

The gingerbread decorating competition was where it got fierce. I had pre-made the biscuits the day before and used BBC Good Food's recipe for Gingerbread Men. I took the crown with Elsa and Elias after some nail biting voting via Instagram.

Gemma made some mince pies and the kitchen smelt divine as we started to prepare for the main event- dinner. Half way through the cooking, we took a break and had a mince pie and a single glass of champagne- the operative word being 'single'.

Our house kitchen is tiny. But after months of cooking together, we practically danced round each other in perfect syncrisity. As one person reached for a baking tray, another ducked, and as soon as the oven door was opened we all took a sidestep.

We had it all. Cauliflower cheese; goose-fat roast potatoes; honey-roasted carrots and parsnips; boiled carrots and parsnips; pigs in blankets; cranberry sauce; stuffing balls; brussels; broccoli; Yorkshire puddings; sweet red cabbage; sausage-stuffing-stuffed roast chicken and of course, homemade gravy- just like mum makes.

After Secret Santa, we finished off the day with Christmas Pudding and double cream, revelling in the joys of Love Actually and Hugh Grant's hair.

Christmas Dinner wasn't even that stressful. There were no disasters- we had crackers and candles and Mariah Carey playing in the background. Mentally, I'd set myself up for a huge ordeal, but it wasn't like that at all.

What I'm trying to articulate is, if we can cook a full Christmas Dinner with all the trimmings without getting too drunk to complete it or burning everything in sight, then what else can we achieve? This adulting thing might be easier than I first imagined.

(Also don't worry, after eating, much mulled wine was consumed- I haven't matured entirely)

Merry Christmas from the Mug Shack! x