The Paradox Of Eating A Big Christmas Meal.

Hours turn into minutes.

I don't quite know when the advent of big meals starts, be it a week before, a day before or even longer. Festive dates and events loosen the reigns of grazing. An extra chocolate here, an extra helping there and before we know it, a constant yearning for more is had.

Just this morning we had a divinely wonderful family brunch, a brunch were it paid to have a sturdy wooden table. Any other wouldn't have borne this lot...salmon, weisswurst ( yip, a great combo ), homemade creamed horseradish, cheeses from opposite sides of the channel, a selection of ham, eggs from those happy clucking chickens down the road, a prolific selection of breads and the obligatory bottomless cup of coffee made it a feast fit for a king.

Not wanting to be rude, I sampled everything (except the weisswurst), twice, almost like the court taster of long ago. Even though Bob and I threw the brunch I have to admit it was scrumptious.

My folks left after a few hours professing never to touch another morsel of food again and to be polite I chimed in. But honestly, here I was a few moments after they'd left looking for something to graze on. Goodness me, even now as I pen this my mind is fleetingly meandering through the inside of our fridge and shocked at the outcome.

All finger foods have vanished and everything else needs to be put to pot. Why is it that eating a lot makes one even more peckish? Are those delightful Christmas meals a mere warm-up for the main event? All I can say is that I am extremely grateful to the foresight of shops to keep closed until Wednesday. Perhaps by then my insatiable drive to empty the larder would have been put to slumber until next Christmas...

Biggi