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What an action packed day it was today. Shopping, baking, waiting for Jason to arrive, it felt a bit non-stop. It was mostly concerned with Christmas, of course, though one thing didn’t get done because something else didn’t happen soon enough. And I ran out of time for another. Still, I did manage to get the first batch of mince pies out of the way: The one that is generally only fit for eating in-house, so to speak.
Actually, reading my schedule, I managed a few things. I shopped and went to the System, I made mince pies and salmon for dinner.
The reason I didn’t ice my cake was because the marzipan hadn’t dried out enough. The reason the marzipan wasn’t dry enough was because I put it on a couple of days too late. I blame my trip to Lille for the slack timing.
So the icing will slip down a day to tomorrow. Hopefully it will set before Christmas dinner, or we’ll be eating it on Boxing Day, something that will disappoint Nicoline.
The thing is, this year, we’ve planned to have a traditional turkey Christmas on Christmas Eve night, followed by a julbord lunch on Christmas Day. The plan was that we would cut the cake after dinner on the 24th. Of course, the reason why it was necessary to switch around the meals and timings was because Gary loves tradition so much, he wanted to turn things upside down to appease the Yuletide Pixies.
(For those that do not know, the Yuletide Pixies roam the country in packs, hunting down people who are doing things slightly wrong during the festive season. In order to reduce your chances of encountering them, it is a good idea to mix things up with a blender; timings, meals, cake, baking, the whole shebang. They are vicious little bastards that carry big bats around with them, so avoidance is encouraged.)
Anyway, tomorrow promises to be a big day in the kitchen, working on more than was previously planned.
And, of course, Jason returned to the stuga today, taking a break from his adventures in London to enjoy the slow, silence of Christmas in Trosa. He was full of chat about his new life in the English capital, saying how much he loved it. He is so delighted, he has taken up dancing.
And, on a more personal level, can I just say how good he is at hauling gout ridden old men off low lounges. Cheers, dude.
Before finishing this post, I should explain about the mince pies.
Because I only ever make them once a year, if that, the first batch is always a bit hit-and-miss. There’s the timing in the oven I’m using, the thickness of the pastry, the ratio of pastry to mince, etc. This means that, usually, the first batch is an abject failure.
As you can see, they were not good. Obviously, we ate them all. Tomorrow’s will be better. Promise.
