Christmas

The supply chain crisis that stole Christmas

Who knew our relationship with China would be responsible for ruining not one but two Christmases? At least this year we had a bit of warning. Our own vice president told us of the current supply chain issues back in August. While most Americans were worried about President Biden’s botched withdrawal from Afghanistan, Vice President Kamala Harris was in Singapore discussing a different topic altogether. “The stories that we are now hearing about the caution that if you want to have Christmas toys for your children it might be the time to start buying them because the delay may be many, many months.” For once, Kamala was correct. Last year, in the middle of the pandemic, Americans had very different concerns.

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The plague doctor who stole Christmas

Anthony Fauci's rolling audition for Dancing With the Stars continues. Fauci this week appeared in yet another interview on CBS, where he was asked about the possible impact of the coronavirus on the holiday season. He replied that it was 'too soon to tell' whether Americans would even be able to gather safely for Christmas. Which got me wondering: how far are these seasonal COVID restrictions supposed to go? I have no problem, for example, socially distancing by a factor of 10 from anyone who orders a pumpkin spice latte. But double-masking the Indians in a Thanksgiving play could prove more than a little historically insensitive. Is Fauci serious? Think of the demographics most likely to flout COVID restrictions: Texans, barflies, Democratic governors.

A Digby Dent Christmas

New York Hello friends, and a merry Christmas to you all. I suspect we are all eager to see the back of this year. But the season brings on my sentimentality, and I wonder what waits on the other side of this particular solar circumnavigation. We will welcome spring and, hopefully, with it, the lifting of lockdown. Walking around the dreary streets of the city, I worry what we’ll leave behind us in this annus horribilis. Crowds are thin, sidewalks spare. Eyes are downcast. Has the virus won the War on Christmas? I pray not. When I was a boy, Christmas in the Dent household was a New York affair. The city was near its nadir, yet the Yuletide charm brought out its best, and ours.

new york christmas digby dent
twelve courses

The twelve courses of Christmas

A Partridge in a Pear TreePartridge pear terrine with lingonberries and cognac, served on Scandinavian bark bread.Two Turtle DovesA miniature coeur à la crème on a large white plate, surrounded by two doves sketched in raspberry coulis.Three French HensHot chicken consommé.Four Calling BirdsThe best-known calling bird (or songbird) is the lark, traditionally roasted and devoured bones and all. But many today prefer their larks ascending, so instead this course features Japanese quail, originally domesticated for its vocal talents and only subsequently introduced into cuisine. Sliced poached quail breast is served on a bed of arugula and endive with pomegranate, walnuts and orange vinaigrette.

christmas past

It’s good for your elf

Ever since I found out Santa Claus wasn’t real a year ago, the idea of him began to give me the creeps. Who is this immortal jolly elf, and what does his business of breaking and entering once a year even have to do with Jesus’s birthday, or even St Nicholas? Christmas is a season of traditions, both personal and religious. Each year, its celebrants decorate their gingerbread houses, wrap their presents, decorate their fir trees, drink their eggnog and see Santa Claus at the mall. Some people even go to church.

natalie cole

Christmas crackers: the tragic soul of Natalie Cole

This article is in The Spectator’s December 2019 US edition. Subscribe here. As any Yule fool knows, there’s no Christmas album like an old Christmas album. But there’s not many of them. We’ve had plenty of classic Christmas singles but hardly any classic Christmas albums. In fact, since little Phil Spector went and ‘canceled’ himself and the life of actress Lana Clarkson in 2003, there is only one. Nowadays, a double-sided helping of Spector’s A Christmas Gift For You from 1963 would have the most ardent Wall Of Sound fan hearing sirens, not sleigh bells.

The great lost Beatles album

The Beatles never had a proper Christmas number one, only seasonal number ones with unseasonal bangers: ‘I Want To Hold Your Hand’, ‘I Feel Fine’, ‘We Can Work It Out’/‘Day Tripper’ (1963-65) and ‘Hello Goodbye’ (1967). Though they never made a traditional Christmas record, the Fabs loved Yule — and you know you should be glad. Between 1963 and 1969, they recorded an album-worth of charming Christmas nonsense. Welcome to the semi-secret hinterland between the legal and bootleg worlds: the Beatles’ Fan Club Christmas flexi discs. The flexis have only had one official release since their private circulation to the ravenous Brit-Beatle fan club.

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Persimmon on permission

‘They must be fruit as they’re next to the pomegranates,’ thought I. Then I read the sign: persimmons. Perplexed by persimmons, I asked a Persian friend here in Montecito, California if she knew about them. ‘My grandmother had trees full of them in the fall,’ she told me, waxing lyrical about their sweet, juicy meat covered by a waxy but edible skin. ‘I used to pick them up from the ground and eat them like apples. They always seemed to be smiling at me.’ Her grandmother made jam from them. She told me I’d bought the fuju variety (the hachiya being astringent and less available in Central California).

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sebastian gorka

Christmas greatness: a Yuletide sermon

This article is in The Spectator’s December 2019 US edition. Subscribe here. ’Tis the season friends. The season to be merry. But also the season to remember. Especially those who gave their everything. For us. Great Americans who made the ultimate sacrifice to protect the greatest nation on earth. I speak, of course, of the true meaning of Christmas. The Yuletide. The winter festival. The hinge of the Judeo-Christian cultural year. The subject of so much opprobrium from the secular left. Christmas is under attack. It has to be defended. President Donald Trump is fighting back. But we all have a responsibility to stand up. To say ‘No!

nativity

Godfrey Elfwick’s Nativity drama

This article is in The Spectator’s December 2019 US edition. Subscribe here. Portland, Oregon How do you survive the festive season when you have a social conscience? Dear reader, allow me to impart to you my experience with this predicament, and some wisdom along the way. Once again, the Chr*stm*s season is upon us. Like a virus, it cares not whom it infects and cannot be completely avoided. I choose not to celebrate this holiday, both as a Muslim atheist and a social-justice progressive. Like Th*nksg*v*ng, Chr*stm*s is a toxic symbol of white heteronormative greed. Like the river of evil slime depicted in Ghostbusters II, it seeps insidiously into the fabric of all our lives.

Christmas single

Single at the holidays: an infamous drag, and this year worse than others. Singles got especially hosed during the COVID pandemic. Sure, uncoupled millennials are generally not grappling with remote learning, limited childcare or the actual virus, but dating is no walk in the park — except, I guess, when walking in the park is the only permissible date. Take me. I’ve just crossed that Rubicon where well-meaning friends and family have changed their tune about my romantic prospects. It used to be that no one was good enough for me; now, the refrain is ‘No one’s perfect!’ And no one is. After my ’rona- related evacuation from New York, I decided to explore the options near my parents’ home in Pennsylvania.

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drugs

White Christmas: the magic of the festive drugs binge

This article is in The Spectator’s December 2019 US edition. Subscribe here. An effective antidote to all this thoughtless zealotry, I find, is to go out for the evening with my friend Trevor. When despair hits total, I know it’s time to ring him up and suggest a small sherry: code for drinking and taking drugs until we’re totally out of our minds, then partying all night. Trevor is a big, strong, hard-working country boy for whom life is invariably a momentous affair. Though he’s a tolerant man, there is a point at which forbearance ceases to be a virtue, and he is an old-school puncher and the man you have to beat if you want the magnetic title of Hardest Man in Town. His catchphrase is ‘Who’s the Daddy?

Christmas at the manor

Virginia  Christmas will be different this year. Our refrigerator’s death was like Socrates’s: it began at the bottom and moved gradually upward, eventually yielding up its Freon eide to the empyrean, or at least the ozone hole. Such a death in early November raises big questions about holiday-making, or would most years, with Thanksgiving upon us and Christmas not far behind. But with COVID rampant, we’re admonished to stay home, and will, which dovetails conveniently with the fact that because of the virus, supply chains are banjaxed and we won’t get our new fridge till Boxing Day. (And refrigerator boxes are the best boxes, so there’s the grandchildren’s Christmas taken care of.

christmas manor

Brandy snaps: the festive lift we all need

I’m not sure what it is about brandy snaps that have placed them so firmly in the Christmas culinary tradition: this simple biscuit lacks the dried fruits and nuts of other yuletide stalwarts, its spicing is minimal, and its shelf life is fleeting compared to the cakes and puddings that require festive forethought months in advance. But whatever the reason, I can’t imagine making or eating brandy snaps at any other time of the year. In fairness, my brandy bottle is rarely used other than in the lead up to Christmas — when it gets sloshed into every cake and bake that stands still for long enough — but the brandy in the name is misleading.

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Ten Christmas gifts for an adventurous eater

Being a citizen of the world is difficult when you’re not allowed to enter the rest of it, much less travel across state lines without excessive burden. The ‘bad thing’ has made eating adventurously a tad harder. Some of us are meat-and-potato people. Others of us will unflinchingly and unknowingly order gizzard served in the basement of a Nepali restaurant in Queens because, as they say, when in Rome.Although I’ve been unable to travel or eat at restaurants, my enduring love affair with my stomach has not taken a hiatus. With Christmas fast approaching, neither should yours, or that of the citizen-of-the-world you love.These are items I’ve used or eaten, or that are also on my wish list, most of which are under $50. Bon appétit (and joyeux Noël).

christmas adventurous eater

Melania’s au revoir to Christmas

Washington DC It’s still dark outside and dumping rain as the media waits for the annual White House Holiday Decor preview. The weather’s not as cold as last year and there isn’t the same cinnamon-sugar smell of cookies wafting from the East Room basement but it’s still enough to prompt complaints from members of the press. I am kind of enjoying it. I know that it’s probably one of the last times the Trump family can subject the media to some misery while still in office. This year’s Christmas decorations will probably be more contentious than ever thanks to that leaked audio recording of Melania questioning ‘who gives a fuck about the Christmas stuff?

Cook like a royal: inside the Queen’s Christmas pudding recipe

This Sunday was the last Sunday before advent, making it Stir-up Sunday, the day when Christmas puddings are traditionally made and cooked. This year, the British royal kitchens stirred up their own excitement by taking to Twitter, using the official Royal family account (@royalfamily) to share their special Christmas pud recipe. https://twitter.com/RoyalFamily/status/1330432598552809472 An emoji-filled tweet told us that, for all their embracing of modern social media, the royals are traditionalists when it comes to their puddings: suet may have fallen out of fashion with many, but the royals still favor a suet-based pud, rather than butter.

christmas pudding

‘The Melania Tapes’ reveal she’s even cooler than we thought

Just a couple of hours before President Trump announced that he and his wife, first lady Melania, had tested positive for coronavirus, the world was exposed to the so-called ‘Melania Tapes’. Stephanie Winston Wolkoff, a former friend of the first lady, released to CNN multiple recordings she took of her private conversations with Melania. Leftists who already despise the first lady raged about how she supposedly 'hates' Christmas and doesn't care about migrant children. However, the tapes actually revealed a deeply sympathetic and relatable figure belied by Melania's somewhat aloof and statuesque public persona. 'I'm working...my ass off on the Christmas stuff, that you know, who gives a fuck about the Christmas stuff and decorations? But I need to do it, right?

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The hope of Chanukah

The neighbors got together for drinks and carols at the weekend. As an English Jew, I love the carols — all those old-time bangers from the time when midwinter really was bleak, all those Zionist lyrics about ‘royal David’s city’ and kings in Israel. I consider it a mitzvah, a religious obligation, to spread the joy, because there’s not enough joy to the world these days, so I play the piano, this year in an impromptu trio with an Irish American fiddler and an English literary critic who, it transpires, toots a mean descant on the trumpet. We spread the joy as a farmer spreads muck, but it’s the spirit that counts. Without rehearsal or premeditation, we turned ‘Silent Night’ into a Dean Martin drunk song.

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