I didn’t intend for the Eighth Day of Christmas to be one of feasting, but it did.
I woke up early this morning with another headache. So, I went back to bed with a glass of milk, two ibuprofen tablets, and The Secret Pilgrim (I’m almost finished). Sometime just before 7 a.m. I turned out the bedside lamp and closed my eyes just for a few minutes, and woke up around 10 o’clock. Because I didn’t really know what I wanted for breakfast, I spent some time on the computer, before deciding on banana pancakes dusted with sugar and cinnamon, with a side of sausages and a cup of coffee.
For this New Year Day’s dinner, I had planned to do a baked ham like my mom did for January 1st. But when I went to the store on New Year’s Eve day, they had whole chickens on sale. I hesitated because I already did a roast chicken for Christmas dinner – I have frozen dinners and one casserole in the freezer, and a container of chicken salad to prove it. But budgetary concerns won out (the ham cost a shade under double the price for the whole chicken).
I planned the meal to be as different as possible from my Christmas Day roast chicken. This time, I used a chopped onion for stuffing: a trick someone taught me if you don’t have the ingredients or time to make traditional stuffing – it fills the cavity, allowing the bird to cook evenly while adding flavour. I don’t eat it, but I do freeze the onion pieces and throw them into the soup I’ll make with the bones.
The vegetable medley was carrots and brussels sprouts instead of broccoli, red pepper, and green beans. And I made gravy. It doesn’t usually turn out (another story for another day) but I used a recipe for chicken gravy that called for half the liquid to be milk. It was so good, it brought to mind Erma Bombeck’s quote: “I come from a family where gravy is considered a beverage.
I was so comfortably full that I saved dessert for my bedtime snack – shortbread cookies with mint tea.