¿Qué recuerda del pasado de la Navidad.?
What I remember most about Christmas are smells and tastes. The smell of
the bakery where we would wait patiently Christmas morning to pick up our
Christmas cake and cooked Goose. these would have been dropped off the day
before to be cooked in the bakers big ovens , my grandmothers oven
was too small to accomodate the large meals that had to be cooked , for
in those days families were huge, my grandmother had 14 children living at
home ,and most families were the same . So Christmas morning we all crowded
around the bakery ,a shout would go up, " the cakes are out" and we would all surge
forward ,the cakes always came first, then the meat. I was always with my uncle
Tom he was only a few years older than me but big and strong enough to carry a
goose ,he wrapped the cake up in an old tea towel and told me to run home quickly
and bring back the towel, he also gave me a yeast bun to eat on the way.now a
yeast bun is up among the gourmet delights of this world,it was as big as a tennis
ball brown and shiny on top ,when opened it would steam and an aroma would
waft up and assault the senses with the smell of cinnamon, nutmeg and sultanas
which had been soaked in Rum,I took a quick hungry bite and ran like the
clappers ,out of the village ,down the old road, and then I had to jump across the
cattle grid ,which to a tiny 6 year old was as wide as the Grand canyon, I opened,
then locked the gate , and burst into the kitchen into the arms of my grandmother.
She relieved me of the cake and after smothering me with kisses and giant hugs
and telling me I was her big man, I knew I was a little freckle faced squirt ,but
she made me feel like I was Errol Flynn, only , as she said more handsome.
Without that giant "man making woman " in my life I doubt I could have made it.
I arrived back just in time for the Goose to come out of the ovens, Have you ever
smelled and seen a roast Goose, it is as if you are enveloped in heat and smells
so strong it is hard to breath , the walk home this time was slower and we were
accompanied by our neighbours , all exchanging tales about what we would be
eating and drinking for lunch . A few of us lucky small boys would be slowly
packing into our faces with yeast buns filled with real cream . Thus the magic of
Christmas will always be remembered for the spices and taste of roast Goose.
1 Answer
Great story, Ray. Roast goose is not something common here in the States. That's just a wonderful account.
I mostly remember snow and cold. My father was in the navy, so we were rarely around our other relatives. Christmas was one of the rare exceptions. I vividly remember one Christmas with the entire brood of cousins (my dad had 7 brothers and sisters) sleeping on the floor at grandma and grandpa's house in sleeping bags (freezing cold in Michigan in the winter), under the Christmas tree piled half-way up with presents. The presents didn't matter, but being around the entire family on one occasion was magical.
