It's Me, Sara Louise

…we were doing the shopping for our Christmas Eve dinner.

Oh how I wish I could go back there (even if that would mean battling the other shoppers at Hyper U and having my cart rammed repeatedly all over again). That sad ‘end of Christmas feeling‘ is beginning to sink in, but thankfully, I have you to rehash my Christmas tales with. Let’s pretend that the Spirit of Christmas is still swirling all around us, and I’ll tell you about my Christmas Eve.

This year was the first year to celebrate the holiday at my house. Sure we would be going to Papa’s for Christmas day lunch, but Christmas Eve dinner belonged to me, so when we were invited to go to The Husband’s Uncle’s house in Saint-Rémy for the 24th, we had to politely decline. There was no way I could possibly pass up the opportunity to have part of Christmas my way, at my house.

And my way, at my house meant a Champagne and fois gras apéro while listening to Christmas With the Rat Pack. (The Champagne was provided by Gatz who arrived with two bottles, and on his best behavior, my mother was quite impressed.)

L’apéro was followed by a dinner of bœuf bourguignon, brandied peaches, green beans and my killer mashed potatoes (my mother has named my mashed potatoes ‘killer’ because they taste so good… the irony of this is that there is so much butter and cream in them, they could possibly be ‘killer’ mashed potatoes), washed down with lots and lots of Saint-Emilion Grand Cru.

Both my table and Fifty were dressed up in their Christmas finest…

And with The Husband and Gatz on their best behavior, the evening ended up being quite the civilized affair (are you shocked, because I know I am).

{Thank you Miss Vicki}

{Banon}

Then we topped it all off with a Bûche de Noël (a Bûche chocolat à la fleur de sel-confiture de lait to be exact).