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Our friend Bridget is serious about Christmas, and she does it spectacularly: come 1 December, her tree will be up, beautifully lit and decorated, her nearest and dearest (us included, thankfully) will get their bespoke Advent calendar (this year it was a cheesy one for me and a puzzle for Sarit – perfect) and a month of fun activities will ensue, culminating in a magnificent day. She is so serious about it, in fact, that her planning for next year starts now: she hits the January sales for everything that’ll keep for the next Christmas holiday – stocking fillers, festive candy, decorations, jumpers and socks – and it’s all stored neatly in a cupboard in anticipation of another gloriously executed December.
We may not be quite as organised and foresightful as Bridget, but we are looking ahead to the coming year with the usual mix of excitement and angst, and starting to mentally put things in the calendar: maybe you have a spring holiday, or an autumn baby? Maybe there’s a visitor from abroad you’re looking forward to, or tickets for a once-in-a-lifetime gig? Even if there is nothing planned yet, summer is something we are always excited about, and the coming year starts to slot into place, as plans become experiences and, before we know it, memories. Time rushes forward, and suddenly it’s gone.
While traditionally this is a time of year to start a diet or “clean up” your eating habits, what’s really needed is to lean into old favourites: the dishes we grew up on and that were there for us in the past. There’s something quietly radical about indulging that nostalgia in January. About choosing familiarity over novelty, pleasure over punishment, comfort over guilt. Not because the past was better, but as a counterpoint to all that future planning, as well as a way to slow the flow of time if only a bit. In our house, that means bean and barley soup, a simple beige preparation that was a staple at Sarit’s house when she was growing up. Sure, it’s not a dish that we would ever make for guests, but whenever someone tries it, they get it immediately – nostalgia is a flavour that is universally recognised, and it is infinitely interesting to travel into someone’s past and taste their memories.
Maybe what presses your buttons is something from the school canteen, or a perfect iteration of a weeknight staple, or a homemade version of a beloved takeaway or ready-meal treat. After all, it might be that all that’s needed right now is to take a beat to look (or taste) back before another year rushes ahead.
Our week in food
Preservation orders | Every January, we take stock of our jam collection – most of the summer jams have already been used up or given as gifts, but there are plenty of things that we want to turn into jam – quinces are still around for a few more batches, lemons, clementines and blood oranges are perfect right now. The big jamming project of the year is about to take place: the Seville oranges are coming, and we have the jars ready (for marmalade and for curd).
Snap happy | The best gift we got (from ourselves!) for Christmas was a photograph of some lychees by Thai-born Dham Srifuengfung, whose work we really admire. We’ve already got our eyes on a companion piece, but we may have to wait until next year for that. Some fruit is for the bowl, and some for the wall.
Bite-size perfection | Are you doing dry January? Do you hate every minute? The jalapeño popper gilda at Rita’s in Soho is a perfect little snack, and you can – and should – have it with a mini martini, which is also perfect (as is just everything else on the menu). With a bit of mental gymnastics, you can even convince yourself that you’re not ordering a drink but a starter. It’s not a drink, it’s food!
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