![]() We should reinvent Christmas traditions not only for the joy of welcoming in a melting pot of delicious-yet-different foods, but because there’s a real necessity to do so. Those are your memories and they deserve to be treasured just as much as food traditions that have stood the test of time. Cheese on toast after school turkish delight while watching The Chronicles of Narnia or a memorable street food you tried on holiday. For you, it could be meals that create excitement and happiness, or take you back to a time or place when you felt joyful. Nigella chooses chocolate cake, an eternal crowd pleaser, over Christmas cake. Instead, turn to old favourites and reunite with the familiar flavours you enjoy. No amount of sugar and lemon will neutralise the acrimony you bring to preparing a food you dislike. When did we all become so intolerant of other people’s ways of eating? Or is calling people out on what they eat more common now because we share so much of our lives, including what we eat, online? Social media seems to give the tradition police a free pass to make judgments. We journey on in our own ways and carve new paths all the time. The concept of tradition, like “authenticity”, is inherently subjective. My giant samosa recipe received comments such as,“My ancestors are screaming right now” and: “This is an insult to the old ways.” Indeed, most of what I share is Indian food that strays from traditional ways, and with every post there are comments that come with a pinch of alienation, followed by a handful of shame. I make ravaiya anyway, sometimes – but I do it out of love, not tradition.Īs a food content creator from a mixed background, a great deal of the recipe content I share online is met with comments from diehard traditionalists who won’t accept a dish that’s cooked any other way than how their grandma used to make it. I’d much rather have north Indian baingan bharta (aubergines cooked over coals and mashed with copious amounts of garlic), or a fabulous Greek moussaka for Christmas dinner. Still, on special occasions, they’re a mainstay of my British-Gujarati family’s table. Not only do they look like musty old socks, but they also have the texture of a sack of slime. My contempt for seedy aubergines runs deep, right through to my inner child. But the secret ingredient in my preparation is bitterness from my soul. I watch my son as he devours it with roti, making yummy noises and comparing it to my mother’s version. One by one, each aubergine was painstakingly slit in a crisscross fashion and filled by hand. As I stuff amethyst-skinned baby aubergines with spicy peanut masala to make ravaiya, I think of how many times my ancestors before me prepared this traditional dish. Deciding which traditions are significant enough to carry on brings with it a sense of duty and, ultimately, guilt. As a first-generation British Indian, I can relate. Perhaps some people are afraid to let go of traditions because parts of our identities are enmeshed in the customs we follow. It’s a casual and sociable way of feasting that carries with it a sense of liberation and pleasure in helping yourself to more of what you love.Īt Christmas, my family goes for food that’s easy to prepare in bulk, since we’re a party of 40: Indo-east African channa bateta (a mix of potatoes and chickpeas cooked in coconut milk and topped with cassava crisps, chillies and raw mango chutney), or perhaps a selection of chaats, or dosa with different fillings (everything from classic potato to pizza or noodles), traybakes of multiple fajita fillings, meze and – my favourite of all – one huge biryani and a riot of different raitas. Celebrations centre around food, and eating an array of dishes all at once. I can’t help but note that this communal style of eating is typical of many Asian dining norms, including those of my own Indian culture. I now dream of potato grazing boards: wedges, chips, curly fries, waffle cuts, potato skins and crisps galore, tag-teamed with a dip-stravaganza. My Instagram and TikTok feeds are offering me a smörgåsbord of Christmas meal ideas – some ridiculously indulgent and made entirely of flavoured butter others more practical, such as big platters of all the sides with no main dish, an all-day breakfast, “picky bits” or buffet-style eating you can graze on all day. If that means cooking a small air fryer roast this year, then great – at least you won’t be lumbered with unwanted leftovers for a week after Christmas. Scaling back on the foods we don’t love means we can make room for the ones we do. It’s time to accept that letting go of the festive traditions that no longer suit our appetites or our lifestyles is perfectly OK. Since Nigella Lawson called out Christmas cake as a festive food that should be forgotten (an opinion with which I wholeheartedly agree), I’ve been thinking about re-evaluating our Christmas food choices.
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