Bugger the turkey - for our first Christmas in the UK, Ants and I went in search of traditional English fare... roast venison and pheasant. We found both at Oxford's covered market, a curious blend of overpriced tourist shops and fresh meat, seafood, deli goods and organic veg.
I've decided that the English really don't know how to cook any more. The market was almost empty two days before Christmas - but the readymade meals section at Sainsbury's was teeming with shoppers, as were the gourmet 'just heat and serve' aisles at Marks and Sparks. Sad really, but it made our shopping easier.
Christmas morning dawned in a haze, brought on by a late night at the Killingworth Castle Hotel, where friends of ours had a gig the night before, followed by carolling at the Half Moon, our local, where happy punters were falling over themselves to keep us plied with pints and scampi fries.
Eventually we gathered our other 'orphan' mates (people also spending Christmas away from family who live in farflung reaches of the world) Lynne and Lizzy, and fired up our roast. Preceeded by Ants' homemade parsnip and chestnut soup plus to-die-for smoked Scottish salmon (with juniper) and adorned with all the trimmings that a roast SHOULD have, lunch was followed by a nap and several lazy hours before we could even contemplate our christmas pudding.
Black and white movies and some impromptu music (Lizzy's melodion and fiddle, Ants on drum and me faffing about with tin whistle) made it one of the most laid back Christmases ever... yay.
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