Tragic Sandwich

Growing up, we ate nothing in particular (well, something, not just anything specific) on Christmas Eve. Christmas morning was usually sour cream coffee cake with eggs and bacon. For Christmas dinner, though, we pulled out all the stops:

• Roast prime rib
• Yorkshire pudding
• Creamed spinach
• Baked potatoes

Then my mom passed away, and I married Mr. Sandwich, and my dad remarried, and my brother got married. So we wound up being a completely different family. An awesome one, but completely different.

That doesn’t mean we have to give up all of the tradition, but it does mean that it ought to reflect who we are now. Two years ago, therefore, we worked together to identify which parts of the meal were essential, and which could be changed. We wound up with:

• Roast prime rib (alternate for those who don’t eat beef: grilled salmon)
• Yorkshire pudding
• Maple-glazed carrots
• Rosemary Au Gratin Potatoes (I use less cream and add ricotta)

No dessert. There’s no room for dessert. That tradition hasn’t changed.