Leave it to us to create hard deadlines that are hardly reasonable. When we decided to host the family for Christmas Eve, it didn't feel absurd — it truly didn't. Yes, we weren't into the house yet, but this was going to work. The 1960s oven had not even been plugged in since picking it up off Facebook Marketplace, but this was going to go splendidly.
Of course, the guest list grew, as happens. The small rib roast became an order for a 14 pound roast. The dessert I decided on was celebratory if impractical: a towering croquembouche with a mini cousin for the kid's table. Could we fit 14 in the kitchen for a seated dinner? We would find out!
It's evidence of the power of faith and the dogged pursuit of a dream that there we were, seated around a long table (our table + a folding one) on Christmas eve surrounded by family with plates piled high with slabs of meal, creamed spinach, and roasted potatoes.
Gold ribbons wound their way around oranges, mossy 'trees', and the aforementioned cream puff tower, while family laughed and stood up for seconds.
The basement is full of boxes, the rugs aren't down, and some rascal snuck a plate of goldfish upstairs that I didn't find until well into Christmas Day, but it worked. Believing doesn't make anything possible, but it does create small miracles, like a nearly perfect roast.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays from our family to yours, from our new home at Eden Hill.
