There are two types of people in this world: those who look forward to dinner on 25th December with all the trimmings, and those who anticipate feasting on the leftovers on the 26th. I fall into the latter group. For me, enjoying the ultimate Christmas sandwich at home in Ireland with my parents is one of the highlights.
Doorstop slabs of white bread (forgive me sourdough, this is not a time for wild yeast). Fried in a little butter until golden brown. Crammed with leftovers and a few added extras of your choice.
My Christmas memories, like so many others, are associated with food and eating at home with my family. Arriving in Dublin from London, my conversations with my mum go a little like this:
Her: Are you tired? You look tired?
Me: No, no, I'm grand.
Her: Are you sure? You look tired (tutting under breath about that London place).
Me: Honestly no, I'm grand.
Her: You must be tired (tilting her head to the side appraising me).
Me: Really I'm not, I wasn't working today.
Her: Ok (shaking her head). Will you have some dinner so? I made a little lasagne (pulling out a gigantic lasagne that would easily feed a very hungry family of six).
Me: Well…I ate on the plane.
Her: The plane? THE PLANE? That's not proper food. You'll sit down now and have some dinner.
Me: Em…I was kind of going to go to bed (it's after midnight).
Her: SEE - I knew you were tired.
Me: Heat up the lasagne.
Christmas back home is a constant schedule of lazy breakfasts, long lunches and planning the next dinner. My mum gets slightly anxious when we have no plans for dinner. Reassurances that we’ve just had lunch do nothing to appease this.
On Christmas day she insists on me cooking - "it's your job for God's sake!" (I'm a chef in a busy London restaurant). I'm on prep duty, peeling the spuds and carrots with my dad while we sneak spoonfuls of crispy stuffing. The roast potatoes are left in my dad's care. Par-boiled, then roasted in duck fat. He triumphantly places a towering platter of them on the table and proceeds to talk us through his method in minute detail.
After dinner he invariably falls asleep, with a crooked paper hat falling off his head, surrounded by Christmas cracker debris. The once pressed table cloth is now dishevelled, crumpled napkins strewn on it. A stack of washing up awaits. I sit with my mum and we eat plum pudding doused with brandy. Let that pile of plates wait a little longer...
For me, this is what Christmas is about: those moments of indulgence with the most important people in your life. Living abroad, you miss out on these day-to-day simple things.
Each morning at home I sit at the kitchen table with a coffee while my dad in his armchair flicks through the papers. He bustles about, talking about getting the fire going. The Christmas tree lights twinkling in the background and the smell of crispy bacon and pudding make everything ok.
When you fly back home, you want to consume as much as possible of the experience. Back in London in January, these are the memories I will keep close to me when I get caught up in normality again.
But for now, I’m content to enjoy my time at home. Here’s how I make an ultimate Christmas leftovers triple decker sandwich on the 26th. It’s not fancy, but dammit it is tasty and I’ll be tucking into one today.
The Ultimate Christmas Leftovers Sandwich
Ingredients
3 slices bread, none of your fancy sourdough or focaccia. Now is not the time to be showing off. We’re taking white sliced bread (I like Brennans batch loaf)
1 tbsp. butter
Leftover Christmas dinner ingredients of your choice. How about some turkey and cranberry sauce? Supplemented with crispy streaky bacon, a few gherkins and a couple of slices of cheddar cheese. You could also add stuffing and crispy turkey skin (if there’s any left, this tends not to happen in my house).
Method: I'm sure you already know how to make a sandwich. Here's how I do mine: Start by heating a frying pan on a medium heat. Add the butter and when just sizzling, place the bread into the pan and fry each slice until golden brown on both sides. Add a little extra butter if it starts to stick. Layer up starting with the cranberry sauce, then cheese, turkey and finishing with bacon and gherkins.
Laoise Casey is a chef at The Dairy and The Delicatessen in Clapham and writes regular columns for the Independent and The London Evening Standard. In her former life she used to be a HR Manager in Ireland (read about her . Three years ago she moved to London to follow her dream to become a chef and writer and hasn't looked back since, except on the days she burns toast (she recently wrote for Generation Emigration about leaving Ireland to cook up a new life in London). She blogs at cuisinegenie.ie and tweets at @cuisine_genie.
