‘Opinionated.’
No-one likes to define themselves by a single word, but I reckon if you were to ask people to sum me up with just one adjective, that one would be the most common.
Since I could talk, I’ve been bending the ears of anyone who will listen to give my view on the issues of the day.
But no one comment can quite silence a room, stop people in their tracks, and leave me on the receiving end of angry glances quite like this one.
I hate Christmas dinner.
There, I said it.
Never liked it – in fact the classic components of a festive feast are some of my least favourite foods in the world.
Turkey – chicken’s drier, blander cousin – is grim, and the fact I hate the gravy that typically drowns it is one of my bigger culinary controversies.
Cranberry sauce is effectively jam, therefore has no place outside of a sandwich; pigs-in-blankets include bacon, Britain’s most overrated ingredient; and stuffing is just unpleasant.
I’ve slandered sprouts more than anyone, and I stand by a recent claim I made that roast potatoes are simply ‘chips for cowards.’
On turkey, at least, I’m not alone, with a 2020 YouGov poll showing that only around half of Brits would consider it part of their ideal Christmas dinner.
A more recent survey by Sainsbury’s found that Gen Z, in particular, are turning their back on the bird, with 77% of those aged 18-25 saying that they’ll forgo turkey this festive period.
I always knew the kids were alright.
Among the popular meat alternatives to that paltry poultry are beef, chicken, goose, and ham, with more and more people opting for a vegetarian option, too.
Not for me though, in fact the whole concept of a Christmas dinner puts me off, being basically the paper-crown wearing relative of the traditional Sunday roast, another staple of British cuisine I’ve always hated – but that’s another controversial column for another day.
Nope, every year, with the boos of Christmas dinner defenders ringing in my ears, I go with my family to our local curry house for our meal.
Revealing that fact to friends is another gasp-inducing moment, as Christmas traditionalists can’t understand the fact that we eat out at all, while I’ve found others reach peak Mark from Peep Show when it hits home that the McCafferty dinner will, in fact, feature ‘no f****ing turkey’.
And while it might not look like a John Lewis advert, that’s not to say that things aren’t festive at the Indian restaurant.
There’s plenty of decorations, the obligatory crackers with bad jokes and even worse hats, curried sprouts for those who want a spicy twist on a festive classic, and even pun-names for dishes.
You try telling me there’s nothing Christmassy about a ‘Korma All Ye Faithful’ or a ‘We Three Kings Prawn Bhuna.’
And nothing puts you in the mood to show goodwill to all men quite like finishing your third pint of Cobra beer before 3pm.
Not to mention that going out for dinner avoids the stresses and strains of prepping, cooking and washing up!
But as I spoke to a colleague recently and prepared to insist that Naan was festive with the same vigour as someone insisting Die Hard is a Christmas movie, I realised that I had been just as dismissive of those who stick to a more standard Christmas as others had been of my choice to ditch the turkey.
Quite apart from my slander of the dinner, I’ve also been judgemental of people who start their preparations months in advance, and distinctly remember advising classmates whose parents had forced them to watch the Queen’s Speech that they should ring Childline.
It dawned on me that everyone’s festive rituals are just as special as those odd traditions I love in my family.
Whether it’s the croissants and bucks fizz we have for breakfast (on the fancy plates of course), the debatable dinner or the drunken singalongs and ultra-competitive charades that define Christmas night in the McCafferty household, everyone has those little quirks that make things unique for them.
I’m sure you’ll have your own, whether that’s everyone wearing pyjamas to open presents, gathering round to watch the miserable goings-on in EastEnders, or just a simple toast to missing friends and family, it is the people we are with that make Christmas great, not what we eat.
So on Sunday, whether you’ll be sitting down to parsnips or poppadoms, turkey or tikka, I hope you have a fantastic day, and enjoy all the little traditions that make your Christmas truly yours.
Just don’t get me started on gravy.
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