What festive treats do you look forward to?

++++++++1 :slight_smile:

I have made an effort to eat Parsnips outside of the festive season Chunks - because they are delicious - but because I have been psychologically conditioned to associate them with christmas I have a psychological block when it comes to remembering to seek them out and put them in the shopping basket outside of the festive season. I probably need to see a psychiatrist about it.

I love the huge Ham :slight_smile: and after opening pressies spending the rest of the day by the poolside.

Christmas in SA is just so different

I do roast parsnips for my parents at Christmas, but can’t stand them myself

how can you say that about your own parents…

:D:D:D:D

I dont like Christmas pudding but I eat it, cos its the law at Christmas :smiley:

I love steamed sprouts all year round though, I love em, except when we have Christmas dinner at a restaurant, then they are either like mini cannon balls or boiled to mush :crazy:

Homemade mince pies.

What about Pickled Walnuts?

Who eats them shrivelled up nuggets of doggy doo-doo?:stuck_out_tongue:

Yuk, never tried them, they sound gross! Normal walnuts are lovely, why would you want to pickle them! :smiley:

Well this year most of my veg has come from my own veg patch:D

First time ive grown brussel sprouts but ive also grown parsnips,spuds,Carrots,sweetcorn and fennell and all me own herbs:D Quite satisfying knowing where its all come from:)

woulda had a duck as well as george but that B****y fox got there first!:angry:

Lucky you, to have home-grown brussels sprouts. The best bit is the cabbagey bit at the top - cut up and cooked like cabbage, it is much tastier than the sprouts and really good for you (if you don’t want them, save us some):slight_smile:

I wondered why the rabbit always seems pleased when i feed him the top bits off the brussel stalk!:w00t: Think i’ll be depriving him from now on:D

The day has to start with “Bucks Fizz” for breakfast. Good OJ and cheap fizzy wine is better than the reverse.

Then there is lots, topped off by Mrs. O’s vegetarian (no suet and better for it) Christmas pudding.

Nuts you have to take the shell off yourself washed down with port.

Disaronno and Amaretti biscuits to finish.

Sh*t. I hate Christmas.

Have you noticed that you can’t buy Brazil Nuts anywhere with the shells on?

I was told that dust from the shells is carcinogenic and a health hazard, don’t know how true that is:cool:

Home grown organic chicken testicles in a a salad a la tiede

By the shore of Gitche Gumee,By the shining Big-Sea-Water,At the doorway of his wigwam,In the pleasant Summer morning,Hiawatha stood and waited.All the air was full of freshness,All the earth was bright and joyous,And before him, through the sunshine,Westward toward the neighboring forestPassed in golden swarms the Ahmo,Passed the bees, the honey-makers,Burning, singing in the sunshine. Bright above him shone the heavens,Level spread the lake before him;From its bosom leaped the sturgeon,Sparkling, flashing in the sunshine;On its margin the great forestStood reflected in the water,Every tree-top had its shadow,Motionless beneath the water. From the brow of HiawathaGone was every trace of sorrow,As the fog from off the water,As the mist from off the meadow.With a smile of joy and triumph,With a look of exultation,As of one who in a visionSees what is to be, but is not,Stood and waited Hiawatha. Toward the sun his hands were lifted,Both the palms spread out against it,And between the parted fingersFell the sunshine on his features,Flecked with light his naked shoulders,As it falls and flecks an oak-treeThrough the rifted leaves and branches. O’er the water floating, flying,Something in the hazy distance,Something in the mists of morning,Loomed and lifted from the water,Now seemed floating, now seemed flying,Coming nearer, nearer, nearer. Was it Shingebis the diver?Or the pelican, the Shada? Or the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah?Or the white goose, Waw-be-wawa,/td> With the water dripping, flashing,From its glossy neck and feathers? It was neither goose nor diver,Neither pelican nor heron,O’er the water floating, flying,Through the shining mist of morning,But a birch canoe with paddles,Rising, sinking on the water,Dripping, flashing in the sunshine;And within it came a peopleFrom the distant land of Wabun,From the farthest realms of morningCame the Black-Robe chief, the Prophet,He the Priest of Prayer, the Pale-face,With his guides and his companions. And the noble Hiawatha,With his hands aloft extended,Held aloft in sign of welcome,Waited, full of exultation,Till the birch canoe with paddlesGrated on the shining pebbles, Stranded on the sandy margin,Till the Black-Robe chief, the Pale-face,With the cross upon his bosom,Landed on the sandy margin. Then the joyous HiawathaCried aloud and spake in this wise‘Beautiful is the sun, O strangers,When you come so far to see us!All our town in peace awaits you,All our doors stand open for you;You shall enter all our wigwams,For the heart’s right hand we give you. ‘Never bloomed the earth so gayly,Never shone the sun so brightly,As to-day they shine and blossomWhen you come so far to see us!Never was our lake so tranquil,Nor so free from rocks and sand-bars;For your birch canoe in passingHas removed both rock and sand-bar. ‘Never before had our tobaccoSuch a sweet and pleasant flavor,Never the broad leaves of our cornfieldsWere so beautiful to look on,As they seem to us this morning,When you come so far to see us!’ And the Black-Robe chief made answer,Stammered in his speech a little,Speaking words yet unfamiliar:‘Peace be with you, Hiawatha,Peace be with you and your people,Peace of prayer, and peace of pardon,Peace of Christ, and joy of Mary!’ Then the generous HiawathaLed the strangers to his wigwam,Seated them on skins of bison,Seated them on skins of ermine,And the careful old NokomisBrought them food in bowls of basswood,Water brought in birchen dippers,And the calumet, the peace-pipe,Filled and lighted for their smoking. All the old men of the village,All the warriors of the nation,All the Jossakeeds, the Prophets,The magicians, the Wabenos,And the Medicine-men, the Medas,Came to bid the strangers welcome;'It is well,’ they said, ‘O brothers, ’That you come so far to see us!’ In a circle round the doorway,With their pipes they sat in silence,Waiting to behold the strangers,Waiting to receive their message;Till the Black-Robe chief, the Pale-face,From the wigwam came to greet them,Stammering in his speech a little,Speaking words yet unfamiliar;‘It is well,’ they said, ‘O brother,That you come so far to see us!’ Then the Black-Robe chief, the Prophet,Told his message to the people,Told the purport of his mission,Told them of the Virgin Mary,And her blessed Son, the Saviour,How in distant lands and agesHe had lived on earth as we do;How he fasted, prayed, and labored;How the Jews, the tribe accursed,Mocked him, scourged him, crucified him;How he rose from where they laid him,Walked again with his disciples,And ascended into heaven, And the chiefs made answer, saying:‘We have listened to your message,We have heard your words of wisdom,We will think on what you tell us.It is well for us, O brothers,That you come so far to see us!’ Then they rose up and departedEach one homeward to his wigwam,To the young men and the womenTold the story of the strangersWhom the Master of Life had sent themFrom the shining land of Wabun. Heavy with the heat and silenceGrew the afternoon of Summer;With a drowsy sound the forestWhispered round the sultry wigwam,With a sound of sleep the waterRippled on the beach below it;From the cornfields shrill and ceaselessSang the grasshopper, Pah-puk-keena;And the guests of Hiawatha,Weary with the heat of Summer,Slumbered in the sultry wigwam. Slowly o’er the simmering landscapeFell the evening’s dusk and coolness,And the long and level sunbeamsShot their spears into the forest,Breaking through its shields of shadow,Rushed into each secret ambush,Searched each thicket, dingle, hollow;Still the guests of HiawathaSlumbered in the silent wigwam. From his place rose Hiawatha,Bade farewell to old Nokomis,Spake in whispers, spake in this wise,Did not wake the guests, that slumbered: ‘I am going, O Nokomis,’On a long and distant journey,To the portals of the Sunset,To the regions of the home-wind,Of the Northwest-Wind, Keewaydin.But these guests I leave behind me,In your watch and ward I leave them;See that never harm comes near them,See that never fear molests them,Never danger nor suspicion,Never want of food or shelter,In the lodge of Hiawatha!’Forth into the village went he, Bade farewell to all the warriors,Bade farewell to all the young men,Spake persuading, spake in this wise: ‘I am going, O my people,On a long and distant journey;Many moons and many wintersWill have come, and will have vanished,Ere I come again to see you.But my guests I leave behind me;Listen to their words of wisdom,Listen to the truth they tell you,For the Master of Life has sent themFrom the land of light and morning!’ On the shore stood Hiawatha,Turned and waved his hand at parting;On the clear and luminous waterLaunched his birch canoe for sailing,From the pebbles of the marginShoved it forth into the water;Whispered to it, ‘Westward! Westward!’And with speed it darted forward. And the evening sun descendingSet the clouds on fire with redness,Burned the broad sky, like a prairie,Left upon the level waterOne long track and trail of splendor,Down whose stream, as down a river,Westward, westward HiawathaSailed into the fiery sunset,Sailed into the purple vapors,Sailed into the dusk of evening. And the people from the marginWatched him floating, rising, sinking.Till the birch canoe seemed liftedHigh into that sea of splendor,Till it sank into the vaporsLike the new moon slowly, slowlySinking in the purple distance. And they said ‘Farewell forever’Said ‘Farewell, O Hiawatha!’And the forests, dark and lonely,Moved through all their depths of darkness,Sighed, ‘Farewell, O Hiawatha!’And the waves upon the marginRising, rippling on the pebbles,Sobbed, ‘Farewell, O Hiawatha!’And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,From her haunts among the fen-lands,Screamed, ‘Farewell, O Hiawatha!’ Thus departed Hiawatha,Hiawatha the Beloved,In the glory of the sunset,In the purple mists of evening,To the regions of the home-wind,Of the Northwest-Wind, Keewaydin,To the Islands of the Blessed,To the kingdom of Ponemah,To the land of the Hereafter!

Yeah, thank you Jetstream.

The Brazil nuts thing is not to do with them being cancer inducing, though that may be true for all I know, it’s that they are, in bulk, liable to self combustion and can’t be insured cargo.

(Or so the TV tells me. Could all be borrocks.)

Quite probably;)

I couldn’t help doing a bit of Googling:D

Brazil nut lovers will be out of luck this Christmas as many supermarkets are refusing to sell them in their shells.

The European Commission has branded the nuts a health risk after traces of a toxin that can cause liver cancer were found in Brazil nut shells. Each batch must now be tested for aflatoxins, and the cost of destroying those affected has made Brazils too costly for supermarkets to import. It is still possible to buy just the kernels, as used in chocolate Brazils. A spokeswoman for Sainsbury’s said: “Like other retailers, we don’t stock shelled Brazil nuts due to EU regulations. However, we have plenty of unshelled Brazil nuts in stock.”

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/4065611.stm

The green triangle chocolates from the Quality Street tin followd by loads of Cashews & Pistachios.