Happy Eating

When I was a kid, I used to be able to eat at least three servings of food at Christmas dinner. And that’s saying a lot. In Norway, as in most other countries I would imagine, we pride ourselves in the utmost fattiness at the table on Christmas Eve. There’s medisterkaker, a sort of meatballs consisting primarily of fatty pork mince and full cream milk; ribbe, the pork loin rib, with crispy pork crackle on top; a sauce made out of said pork crackle offspring and full dessert cream; sosisser, also made of fatty pork mince, and an array of sides that are characteristic of neither health nor weight loss. 

Of course, true to tradition, all these things were served on the 24th of December two days ago. I had been looking forward to this meal for weeks, and made sure to be absolutely starving when I sat down to eat. It’s very strange growing up; everything suddenly goes quicker, you’re more pragmatic and rational, and when you sit down to eat Christmas dinner after months of practically nothing but clean food, you simply cannot fathom the absolute ordeal it is to finish just one, tiny serving of Christmas Eve food. This is exactly what happened to me. I looked to my right, at Ariz, who was struggling to keep up too, then down to my own plate, which seemed monstrously full of food I couldn’t possibly finish.

Now, don’t get me wrong; this food is absolutely delicious, and I wouldn’t ever trade it for a bowl of vegetable soup or salmon fillet. Ever. It’s so good that I hadn’t eaten much all day just to be able to enjoy it. But it was the strangest thing; after a pitiful two potatoes, one sausage, one meatball ala fat, and some sauce, I was done for. I could barely eat dessert later on, even after an hour-long break while opening the presents. I felt food pregnant - you know, the kind where you actually look three months pregnant after finishing a meal - and at the same time, incredibly healthy. 

It was as if a sort of light went up for me; I have never enjoyed that Christmas dinner as much as I did two days ago. It was almost better than the Christmas presents, and I finally realised what people had talked about for all these years, when they told me they were excited to splurge over Christmas food. The sauce (my favourite part of the meal, I kid you not) had never tasted sweeter; the potatoes richer; the sausages fuller. It was a feast for my taste buds, just like it should be. So please, eat your heart out at this wonderful time of year; it’s totally worth it.

Happy Christmas.