‘All I got for Christmas was egg foo young’
We were in a cab the afternoon of Christmas Eve when we saw Santa driving home from a hard day of ho-ho-ho-ing. We’d just seen Free Solo, which is an absolutely amazing movie about this guy Alex Honnold who climbed 3200 feet up the sheer face of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park using just his hands and feet — no ropes! no nothing! — but even after that it was still pretty exciting to see the Jolly Old Elf himself in all his red-suited, white-bearded glory at the wheel of his Chrysler mini-van.
Another Santa we saw this season. This Santa was spotted in his driveway, having just ridden in on the back of a Corvette convertible
No doubt Santa was thinking about the nice home-cooked dinner he was going to have that night in his North-Pole-like outpost in Queens (he was in the traffic lane for the Bridge) before heading out in his sleigh.
We Whitmores were also looking forward to home and our traditional pot roast, a small version of which we three (yes, The Child was home this year) were planning to polish off before opening presents and hanging out by the fire. (Being of the Swedish persuasion, I’ve Swedishly persuaded The Dude that Christmas Eve gift opening is more fun than the Christmas Morning version.)
The traditional pot roast, as it was consumed in Days of Yore. Meaning when we had Other People over to help eat it
The Dude, who doesn’t have a Swedish bone in his body, goes along with this, I’m thinking, because it’s more fun to open presents with wine than with coffee. Though my Personal Sister, also married to a non-Swede, fuels her Christmas Mornings with what she calls “happy coffee”, which she swears by as a gift-opening lubricant.
The Whitmores’ unwrapping lubricant of choice
So. Everything thing went swimmingly on Christmas Eve, with our tummy-satisfying dinner of beef, and our bubbly-infused soul-satisfying exchange of gifts.
Wombat guarding the Stocking after Santa has arrived from Queens (er, the North Pole), but before The Child has
Christmas Morning was pretty sweet too, since we have not relinquished the custom of the Christmas Stocking — even though now The Child is practically large enough to actually wear said Stocking.
Stockings and Starbucks: our new Christmas Morning tradition. That’s a pomegranate she found stuffed into said Stocking’s toe. Very Dickensian
We loafed around in our jammies pretty much all day, admiring each other’s taste in gifts, until we started to get, well, peckish. There were certainly enough Christmas treats around — caramel corn, toffee, a giant tin of cookies, and Godiva galore — but it was getting on towards dinnertime and we wanted something, well, more substantial.
We’d demolished that pot roast on Christmas Eve (there weren’t even any leftovers), and, silly me (the One Who Cooks), had in the back of her lazy-butt holiday mind that on Christmas Itself I could take it easy and we could just “grab some sushi”.
Hah! (Or should I say “Ho-Ho-Hah!“)
“What? I’m not worried about dinner. Dinner’s in a bowl. On the kitchen floor. Like always.”
As Christmas Day started turning into Christmas Night, I got to thinking of a piece I had read in the New York Times that very morning about how eating in Chinese restaurants got to be a Jewish tradition in New York since they were the only places open on Christmas Day. (When I mentioned this to The Child, she said “Oh, Mom, that’s such a cliche.”) Well, Nervous Me, I got to thinking we should call the sushi place, you know, just to make sure they were open.
The Child shows off a Polaroid shot with a Christmas gift (A Polaroid-like camera) of us hanging around and dandling the cat
Riiiing, riiing, riiinnnng. Nothing doing. I then consulted Open Table. Equally nada. The Child, Millennial that she is, started consulting her apps. Uber Eats had a Thai place that would send takeout. Did we like Thai food? Sure! we said, then proceeded to waste half an hour arguing over the menu. (“Do you like curry?” “Sure, I like curry. But all these have coconut milk. Ick!” “Mom, all Thai curries have coconut milk.”) By the time we agreed on what to order, the place was closed. It was 5 o’clock.
Next she found a taqueria. (“Tacos? Sure, we like tacos. Sort of.”) Closed. Then a poke place. “Poke! What on earth’s poke?” Ditto. Closed tighter than a Hawaiian drum. At around 5:30, we realized we were all out of options. So Chinese it had to be.
And the Chinese food delivered, literally and figuratively. Though we were on hold longer than it took the food to get to us, we enjoyed every MSG-infused morsel. (As you can see in the photo at the top of this post.) The only thing disappointing were the fortune cookies, which weren’t, in my opinion, fortune cookies. They were more like saying cookies, since they said things like “Laugh and the world laughs with you”. And “Hard work is its own reward”. A fortune is something like “You will meet a tall handsome stranger”.
Or, in our case, “You will eat Chinese food on Christmas Day.”
Or maybe: “You will eventually change out of your Christmas jammies.”
New York City. January 2019
We ordered Chinese food on Christmas Eve. It made my life so much easier! I usually cook for days so it was a nice break. It’s a brand new tradition as of this year so I can enjoy the holiday too!
Yes! It was actually a big hit chez nous as well. I see a Tradition in the making!
Happy coffee, indeed! Also, we ended up having Chinese food on Christmas, too. THE BEST.
So glad to have discovered this Minor Christmas Miracle. I see fried rice and fortune cookies in my future! And yes, Happy Coffee is pretty darned, um, giggle-icious xo
We ate Chinese our first married Thanksgiving because nothing else was open in Urbana. Happy New Year?
Those wacky Chinese! Who knew they were open on Thanksgiving TOO? (Note to Future Lazy Self: not in the mood to roast a turkey? Just give Wa Jeal a call!) Happy New Year to you, too, dear Ruth!
Very fun post! Chinese on Christmas sounds delightful! I was all ready to get back into the regular swing of things today–first day the kids are back to school–and nope, one puked in the school parking lot. More pajamas and couching it tomorrow!
Oh noooooo! Puking in the parking lot! Though it is nice to have an excuse for jammies!
One of the great joys of retirement-dom: Never having to change out of my Christmas jammies. Happy New Year, Alice!
Hah! Yes, dear Cele, The Dude and I are enjoying Jammie-dom, big time. The first thing we do when we get home in the evenings is “jammie up”!
Oh! Wishing you Happy New Year right back — wish I could have popped champagne on a balcony with you!
This reminds me of “A Christmas Story” when the dog ruins the meal so they all end up at a Chinese restaurant…and since I love Chinese food, i’d say that makes any day a celebration! Great story, well written as always!
Thanks for the tasty compliment, John. I would have looked forward to my hot and sour soup even more had I not just enjoyed a batch a couple of days before Christmas (!) But, like I said, it was pretty much the only game in town. Happy (non-Chinese) New Year, btw!
Sounds nice! Dim sum for us, and a stroll. But don’t you guys do Santa Lucia?
Ah, Santa Lucia. One of my faves! But I’d be afraid my hair’d catch on fire. Sounds like you had a terrific Christmas — here’s wishing you the Happiest of New Years!
? well at least Chinese food was available! I was run out of Apache pizza at 8 pm NYE as it was closing. We got pizza from the Italian chipper though- more hard-core!
Christmas day- not one place is open near me. This country living business!!
Your home looks fab by the way! Was totally snooping in your family pics.
Happy New Year!
Thank you, dear Fancy Paper! Wishing you much happiness in the New Year. BTW, here in NYC, The Dude and I noticed that EVERYTHING was open on New Year’s Day. In fact, he said there was a LINE running out into the street at the Bagel Place. And there was nothing (but the Chinese place) open on Christmas. Go figure.
People are strange!! Having said that I fancy a bagel…?