Saturday, December 26, 2009
There's one less chair around the Christmas table. The turkey's carved and eaten, and a few unserved sprouts sit cooling on the worktop. Plates cleared, we're ready for the pudding. Our chef pauses by the microwave, bowl in hand, preparing to type an unknown number into the machine.
"Anyone know how long this takes?"
Somebody would have known, but somebody's not here. Mum mixed and stirred and steamed it, but she's no longer around to tell the rest of us the appropriate cooking time. We plump for five minutes, for starters, then another two for good measure after the beep.
The pudding is delicious, as usual. It's rich and moist and tasty, not too hot, not too cold. And there are three more in the cupboard where that came from. She'll be with us for a few more Christmases yet.
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