The traditions of Christmas are particularly lavish. I like to think this is because the event of the birth of Christ has conveyed such heart-trembling hope that we have always looked for ways to out-create, out-give and out-serve God in praise to Him for His gift which who changed the world. I know that's a little idealistic, but it feels nice.
So this is why I find myself each year, plaintively hoping Mum will crank out another million shortbread biscuits so our family can gather together for a great icing festival - usually squeezed in between end of term madness and the respectable dates at which one can hand out said biscuits as gifts. The stress of producing these biscuits is pretty massive, but it's so important to our family.
I am always looking for new 'traditions' to start, new beautiful ways of creatively rejoicing in the internal joy of Christmas, but also displaying it through the external blessings we have. Which is why this year I thought I'd go with my Nan's beaters from the 1950s as the machine of choice for making Gingerbread dough.
Didn't go so well. The beaters worked fine, but I had to hold the base machine steady so it didn't go spinning off my cook top onto the floor, which meant I wasn't able to hold the bowl, so ended up with an uneven motion of the ingredients piling up on one edge. It sucked. Big time. I don't know how Nan ever used the silly machine!
So it didn't help when, a few days later, I visited a friend's place to find a joyous party of nougat-makers on their third or fourth batch in only a couple of hours... with The Machine working like a trojan, and no spinning off table in sight.
Sigh.
I am yet to make the dough into anything... but at least I know any baking difficulties can't be blamed on my lack of Machine.
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