The version of Christmas that I return to every year when the planning begins is this: a table that looks beautiful without having required a military operation; a fridge that empties satisfyingly over the days that follow, each leftover finding its purpose; guests leaving satisfied and happy, rather than slightly dazed by the volume. No bin bags of half-consumed food hauled out on the 27th. No creeping guilt about what it all cost, or where it all came from.
I grew up spending Christmases on my grandparents’ farm – they were chicken farmers – and so, evidently, it could only be turkey on the Christmas dinner table! My grandmother made mince pies with lard in the pastry and we ate them in front of the fire with the dogs underfoot. Nothing was wasted because nothing could be. It was all slower, more intentional – entirely rooted in family tradition, rather than what everyone else was doing. And, the food was delicious in the way that only your grandmother’s cooking can be.
That version of Christmas – unhurried and based on quality, rather than anxious abundance – needn’t be some nostalgic fantasy. It’s all entirely achievable, because here’s the thing: the more sustainable, thoughtful path is also the most delicious one.
Buy less, buy better
I find that a smaller, higher-welfare turkey cooks and tastes better, plus risks less waste than a bird bought purely based on size. I like to cut back on meat in the weeks before Christmas, which frees up the budget and makes the main event feel that bit more special. For smaller Christmases, I’ve often opted for a different cut altogether: confit or slow-roasted turkey legs are deeply flavourful and more forgiving to cook.
I apply the same logic to the cheeseboard: the experience of going to a cheesemonger to taste and select three exceptional cheeses is more enjoyable, more sustainable and frankly more impressive than the shrink-wrapped eight-pack. Same with the wine. Christmas shopping can easily veer into a focus on ‘getting everything done’, but buying more thoughtfully and taking time to enjoy the process makes it far more pleasureable for me.
Pass it on
For food gifts that I won’t use or surplus that I can’t eat, I love using the Olio app – a simple, practical way to redirect food to those who will value it. As a recipe developer, I use it all the time, and notice just how much it’s appreciated in the colder months around the festive season.
Romanticise the planning
Core to a calm Christmas – for me at least – is a dedicated planning day early in November. Not a frazzled one, but a properly fun day, treated as a pleasure rather than an admin task. I make a pot of coffee and sit down with a notebook and my cookbooks to map out the menu. This is also the day that I do my first bit of Christmas cooking, often stirring up a batch of mincemeat – and, if you have kids, now is the time to put them to work. This day is part ritual, part organisation. One tool I always lean on is the list function on online supermarket platforms – I build my order gradually over weeks and convert it to a basket only when I’m ready to order. No panicked trolley sweep days before 25 December!
Give homemade
The homemade gifts I love most are the ones that come out of a day I’d have wanted to spend anyway, like a pottery morning that leaves me with hand-thrown bowls to give away. I also like to spend an afternoon stirring up preserves, or infusing spirits and flavouring salts – then, there’s that batch of mincemeat I made on my November planning day. One year, I went to a miso-making class and created lots of tiny jars to offer to friends. These kinds of gifts (see page 57 for more ideas) cost less environmentally, feel more personal and tend to be gratefully received. Crucially, the making is never a chore to me – it’s part of the pleasure of the season itself.
Let go of perfection
There is far more margin for error at Christmas than I ever allow myself to believe – and so many times, it’s the mishaps that end up becoming the best bits. The year that the Christmas pudding turned out to be mouldy was the year that my family collectively cobbled together mincemeat hand pies using shop-bought puff pastry, Ready Steady Cook-style. The year that the turkey came out of the oven significantly overcooked was the year that we discovered that Christmas dinner really is all about the sides anyway. These idiosyncrasies are what we remember most fondly each year – because it turns out nobody really cares whether the carrots run out or the gravy’s thin. My grandmother’s mince pies were never consistent from batch to batch: sometimes the pastry crumbled, sometimes it didn’t. None of us minded – we were in front of the fire with the dogs, and that was all we needed.
Plan your leftovers as seriously as the main event
Leftovers are, as far as I’m concerned, just as important as the main meal. I have a repeatable map for the days after Christmas. On Boxing Day, the turkey stock becomes a gently spiced broth (see below) with noodles and leftover turkey meat, sliced ginger and whatever fresh herbs are still looking reasonable. On the 27th, leftover cheeses go into a proper mac ‘n’ cheese (see recipe below), bubbling and golden. And any remaining Christmas pudding gets folded through vanilla ice cream (see below) and returned to the freezer, to be produced triumphantly in January. Having a plan means nothing gets binned.
Boxing Day turkey broth
Bring 1.5 litres turkey stock to a simmer and add 6 spring onions, 5 bashed garlic cloves, 1 cinnamon stick, 1 star anise, a few slices of ginger and 2-3 tbsp fish sauce. Simmer for 20 mins, adding 350g shredded turkey (or whatever you have left) halfway through. Season with more fish sauce and fresh lime juice to taste. Meanwhile, cook 200g soba noodles following pack instructions, then drain and rinse under cold water to halt the cooking process. Divide the noodles between bowls, ladle over the hot broth and top with the turkey. Garnish with sliced red chilli, fresh coriander and sliced spring onions. (Serves 4)
Christmas pudding ice cream
Break leftover Christmas pudding into rough chunks and toast in a hot pan with a knob of butter until caramelised at the edges. Leave to cool completely. Once cool, leave a tub of shop-bought vanilla ice cream to soften at room temperature for 10-15 mins. Eat a couple of scoops to make space in the tub, then fold through the Christmas pudding pieces, along with any leftover nuts and mixed peel, if you have them. Freeze for at least 2 hrs until firmed up again. (Serves 3-4)
Cheeseboard mac ‘n’ cheese
