Memories Over the Years

   Josh P.

Letters to Santa
Submitted by: Albineus Equinus

Christmas as a child began the day we wrote our letters to Santa. Funny that - it had nothing to do with Christianity and everything to do with old man Nick. We would sit at the kitchen table, mugs of cocoa at our elbows, and write out a letter. None of this "I want" stuff. No the letter was primarily about our year - what we had done well, and what we hadn't done so good at. This was confession time for the soul and it beat the official church-sanctioned one hands down. For Santa knew what we'd done, unlike the good Father, and our honesty would determine what he left us.

So out it all came. The naughty things, the little lies, and to balance it the times we were especially good. At the very end Mother would let us request a couple of extra special things we hoped for...things that Santa might like to let our relatives know about. We were only ever allowed to ask for one big thing, the rest had to be things within the budgets of our family. After all Gramma couldn't afford a fancy bicycle.

Mother would then read it over to "help us fix the spelling" and usually we needed to rewrite the letter at least once. It had to be as close to perfect as possible, being a letter to Santa and all. Not that this was any hardship. Sitting in the warm kitchen, smelling the baking batches of biscuits, and writing to Santa was a lot of fun.

Once the letters were complete, we'd seal them up in an envelope - one each - and address them:
Santa Claus
North Pole

Then came the magical bit. Carefully placing each envelope in the fireplace, we'd set fire and watch the letters burn into ash and smoke. Because the smoke would carry our letters up the chimney.

The next few weeks we children would often ask each other if maybe Santa might have got the letters yet? And would he think we'd been good enough to tell our families what we really wanted? Of course we knew we might not get those things...after all Gramma might have her heart set upon a new book rather than the fancy yo-yo I wanted. But you never knew what might happen when Santa got involved.

As a child I believed in Santa for a long time. Aside from sending him the letter, I loved all the other little rituals my parents created. Baking ginger snaps to leave out for him, making up a thermos of hot cocoa, and leaving some carrots for the reindeer. It was fun and made Christmas Eve that little bit more special.

To top it off, none of our presents were put under the tree except those the immediate family bought. After all it was Santa's task to deliver the gifts. After we went to bed my parents stayed up and hauled out all the parcels sent by my aunts and uncles and grandparents, opened them and stacked the presents under the tree for us to discover the next day.

And the last thing they did before going to bed themselves was to place a stocking across the ends of each of our beds. Those stockings were Santa's special gift to us for trying so hard all year to be good. Nothing big or extra-special about them from an adult perspective. A few bags of sweets, a couple of small tin trinkets, maybe a little doll or truck or stuffed animal. And a little letter from Santa, written by my grandfather I later discovered. For my mother saved up a rough copy of each letter we wrote and mailed them to Grandad.

And then he sat down at his kitchen table and wrote back to us, telling us how proud he was of our honesty, how he'd noticed us trying to be good, and how overall he felt the good outweighed the naughty. And so he had a special gift for each of us - the stocking filled with trinkets. My Gramma knitted each of us a stocking when we were babies just so my parents and grandparents could have this special tradition.

Every year after we'd gone to sleep, stuffed and exhausted, my mother would creep into the rooms and carefully take the stockings away to be kept for the next Christmas Eve. We always thought Santa had magically recalled them.

When Sherry and I began our family my mother started knitting. We have ten stockings that magically appear on Solstice Eve, filled with little goodies from Santa. And at the start of every December the children gather around the kitchen table and write, even the older ones who are now in on the secret continue the tradition of confession to Santa.

My Grandad is long gone to the Summerlands. But I still write him alongside my children. I share the good and the bad of my year, unburdening myself to the man who played the role of Winter King for me for so many years, just as my children do with my father.
   

Black Currant Biscuits
Submitted by: Avril Herries
Serves: 25-30 ish

This recipe is one I make every year for the Yule feast. There's something about black currant jam that just takes me back to childhood and the Jam Drop style-biscuits my Mum would make me when I was having a bad week. Always cheered me up no end, they did. Those had circle cut-outs through which you could see and taste the jam and I loved licking out the jam before eating the biscuit. When I made my first batch it was winter time and so, in keeping with all the festive-type foods, I used a star cut-out.

I wanted a recipe that captured the happiness I felt in the kitchen helping Mum while also drawing upon the winter season - this ended up as that recipe. Everyone loves Jam Drops, and whenever I make them for my Mum it always makes us smile because of the memories.

This is what Yule is all about - memories of family and fun.

• 2/3 cup butter, softened
• 1 cup granulated sugar
• 1 tsp bi-carbonate soda
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 2 eggs
• 1 tsp vanilla
• 3 cups plain flour
• 2/3 cup black currant jam

1. Beat the butter, sugar, bi-carbonate soda, and salt. Beat until creamy. Mix egg and vanilla, and stir into the butter, and then add the flour. Knead briefly, divide into 3 portions, wrap in plastic, and place in the refrigerator for 4 hours.
2. Roll out the first dough ball to about 1/4 inch thickness. Cut out circles and place 1/2 on a greased tray. Spoon a small dollop of jam onto the centre of each circle and smooth it out almost to the edges. Use a small star cutter to cut out the centre of the other circles and gently place them over the jam covered ones. Repeat process with the other dough balls. Chill the trimmings of dough and repeat process with them as well.
3. Bake at 375 degrees F/190 degrees C for 8-10 minutes until golden-brown and then cool on a wire rack.

Mincemeat Pies
Submitted by: Anne S.

Okay, I'm an Aussie, not English. But mincemeat pies are very much a part of the traditional December fare in Australia too. Lucky for us they are often served cold since December down under is rather warm. The original mincemeat pie contains beef - thus the name "mincemeat". However my family has always made meatless pies - not sure of the reason, but they certainly taste good. This is not to say they're vegetarian fare. At least, not my recipe. The suet kind of spoils that idea while adding the extra oomph to the dish. It can easily be made vegetarian however - simply exchange the suet for vegetable shortening. Not as tasty an end result in my book, but still very good.

You can take one of two roads in making this recipe - the easy way or the slightly harder. Both produce a good pie, but the harder route wins out taste-wise. It all boils down to whether you have the time and energy to make from scratch or not - you can always go half way and make the mincemeat while buying the pie shells!

Easy Route:

• 8-16 2 1/2 inch prepared dessert-style pie shells and lids
• 2 1/4 cups prepared mincemeat
• 1 1/2 cups chopped walnuts
• 2 green apples, peeled, cored, and chopped
• 1/2 cup packed dark brown sugar
• 1/4 cup dark rum
• 1 tbsp fresh lemon juice

1. Mix the mincemeat, nuts, apple, sugar, lemon juice, and rum together. Cover and leave in the fridge for 12 hours. Bring to room temperature, stir, and fill the small pie crusts. Place the lids on top, crimping in place, and make a few slits to allow steam to escape. Moisten the tops with a little water and liberally dust with granulated sugar. Bake at 425 degrees for about 40 minutes, until golden. Let cool and dust with more sugar.

Hard Route:
Pie Pastry

• 2 1/2 cups flour
• 1 tsp salt
• 1 tsp sugar
• 1 cup cold butter, cut in small pieces
• 1/4 cup shortening
• 6 to 8 tablespoons ice cold water

1. Dice the butter and shortening. Add the butter to the flour, salt, and sugar and cut it in with a pastry cutter or 2 knives, then add the shortening. Dice it until it looks like coarse breadcrumbs. Don't worry if the fats don't fully integrate. Anything up to pea-sized is fine. Add the water a tablespoon at a time, working it in with a spatula. You want enough water to be able to squeeze the mixture into a dough but have it still looking dry.
2. Divide dough into two portions, one slightly larger than the other and wrap in plastic wrap, flattening slightly. Refrigerate for 1-2 hours. Quickly roll out the bigger piece of dough on a lightly floured board, turning often. You want to minimise the rolling back and forth as this toughens up the dough. Roll from the centre outwards until the dough is between 1/4 and 1/8 inch in thickness. Tart tins work best here, but cupcake ones will do in a pinch. Grease them lightly and then begin the pastry work - you need to cut out rounds of pastry and gently press them into the tins. Make sure some overlaps on the edges. Trim it and crimp with a fork.
3. Dollop about 3 tablespoons of mincemeat (see below for directions) into the pie shells.
4. Roll out the second piece of dough and cut out the lids. Moisten the edges of the pies, place the lids on top, and crimp down the edges. Cut two small slits in the centre. Moisten the tops with a little water and liberally dust with granulated sugar. Bake at 425 degrees for 10 minutes, reduce heat to 350 and cook an extra 20 minutes, until golden. Let cool and dust with more sugar.
5. If you have extra mincemeat left over, why not bottle it up and give as a gift along with the recipe?

Mincemeat

• 1/2 lb suet, chopped fine (can substitute with vegetable shortening)
• 4 cups seedless raisins
• 2 1/2 cups other dried currants, figs, dates
• 1 cup almonds and walnuts, chopped
• 1/2 cup candied citron, chopped
• 3/4 cup candied lemon and orange peel, chopped
• 4 cups green apples, peeled, cored, and chopped
• 1 1/4 cups packed brown sugar
• 1 tsp nutmeg
• 1 tsp allspice
• 1 tsp cinnamon
• 1/2 tsp ground cloves
• 2 1/2 cups brandy
• 1 cup dry sherry

1. Mix the suet, dried fruit, nuts, citron, peel, sugar, and spices thoroughly. Add the alcohol and stir well. Cover and place in a cool dark place for three weeks, adding 1/4 cup of brandy and sherry combined each week.

This website, History of Mincemeat Pie, makes an interesting read.
   

Memories
Submitted by: Bill Wolfe

As a child I was raised summarily Christian. We attended church for the big things - weddings, baptisms, funerals, Christmas, and Easter. We called ourselves Christian for lack of a better term. While I have no memory of "being" Christian or believing or not believing, I do remember the sensation of Christmas.

Going to mass on Christmas Eve was a magical event. Being out so late, the cold crisp air. The dark church lit by hundreds of tapers, the smell of incense, the songs and prayers, and the strong sense of community and belonging to this group that had gathered to worship and celebrate. For my family I think that was one of the reasons we stayed Christian.

When I lost faith and stopped being Christian, I naturally stopped attending church. Not really a big deal as I didn't do it much anyway. But the Christmas season was hard because I had always associated it as starting with that mass.

Once I decided I was Pagan I started to acquire rituals left, right, and center. I was seeking something to replace those memories and fill that void left when I separated from the community. Of course I didn't know it then. It took a long time - not until after the birth of my third child - for me to both realize what I was seeking and to find it.

I live in a small community rather heavily populated with Agnostics, Atheists, and Pagans. Over the years it has become a tradition for us to gather on the Winter Solstice at a local hall. It seems many of us are refugees from a Catholic childhood, for we all appear to be seeking the same thing. It doesn't matter that some believe we are but food for worms at death and others believe in reincarnation. Those are personal and intimate ideas not reliant upon the weight of public agreement. It matters only that we have come together to celebrate life.

The wheel turns and I find myself standing in a dark hall, fragrant with incense, lit only by the sparkling light of many candles, and filled with people who have come to celebrate the solstice. My children stand with me and my wife, and our family is held close within the beating heart of our community.