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Christmas by Food


Merry Christmas to all and to all a good bite.

I went home for five days, worked out never, and ate all the things. My family roots holidays about a mile deep in rigid tradition, and most of them have to do with food. Twice baked potatoes (and steak, irrelevant)  on Christmas Eve, monkey bread for breakfast, and homemade Chex Mix every damn day from Halloween until the New Year. Here are some new and old others:

Daddy Maxwell’s Cinnamon Doughnuts


My dad added a new tradition to our Christmas itinerary this year with a trip to Daddy Maxweill’s. It’s an odd little igloo-shaped hole-in-the-wall just off Lake Geneva in Wisconsin where he stops on fishing trips. The walls are painted pink and blue, and an army of Dr. Suess stuffed animals line the room. It makes no sense at all. What makes plenty of sense is the food, namely the cinnamon doughtnuts. We shamelessly ordered the last dozen, and there were only five of us.

Stick o’ Butter Apple Pie


I don’t know if my mom has just been hiding this pie my entire life but this is the first time I’ve seen her make ANY pie and it totally came out of nowhere. As in I was like, “Hey what’s in the oven?” and she goes, “An apple pie.” All nonchalantly like apple pies aren’t impossible to make. Anyway, apparently the secret is that you melt a stick of butter and like a cup of sugar in the cast iron skillet BEFORE THE PIE EVEN GOES IN THERE. I don’t even know.

Beaten Biscuits


Beaten biscuits are little more than than lard and white flour, but those humble little southern biscuits are the meaning of Christmas in our house. I stopped eating them years ago when I stopped eating animals, but the fanfare of the whole production isn’t lost on me. It takes one person to crank, one to pass the dough through the press, and one to fork and butter. If you’re lucky someone in the family is in charge of making a special cat biscuit…


Griswold Moose Mugs


There’s no such thing as Christmas without the Griswold’s, and last year my sister bought the infamous moose mugs for my dad and brother. My brother couldn’t make it home this year (new baby, shmeee!) so we drank out of the moose mugs 850 miles apart.

And because it never ever gets old, here’s my niece again:


I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season and is ready to kick 2014 in the face.

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