From Christmas envy to a tri-celebratory recipe

For the first time in 19 years, Christmas and Chanukah are aligned, and it warms my heart.

My introduction to Christmas was brief but memorable.  I was 10 years old, on a short road trip with my parents, somewhere in rural Victoria. At the end of our picnic lunch, my mother brought out a Paterson’s cake tin. As she prised open the lid, I could smell exotic spices – I’m guessing allspice, cinnamon, cloves - and a hint of brandy. It was my very first Christmas fruit cake. Soft, sticky, golden cake studded with plump raisins and bright red cherries, whole almonds and bits of orange peel. Unfamiliar flavours and smells, love at first sight.

My Christmas education came from movies and TV shows, from the coloured tinsel in the newsagent and from the carols by candlelight. It was a time of Christmas trees and coloured lights. It was a time when Australians sat down with family and friends, feasting like there was no tomorrow. A lot like the Pesach seder or erev Rosh Hashanah, and a little like Shabbat, but only once a year. But I knew nothing of the story of Christmas, and certainly nothing of Jesus.

The festive season evoked excitement, wonder and - I’m going to come right out and say it - envy. Our non-Jewish friends thought Chanukah was an equivalent thing and I can see why. It was celebrated around the same time, there was some gift giving (if you can count chanukah gelt, tiny mesh bags of gold foil-wrapped coins), we stuffed ourselves with latkes and doughnuts and we did sing a couple of tunes. But we all knew it wasn’t the same.

Years of Christmas envy inevitably led to my inaugural Christmas dinner. Wham’s Last Christmas was on the radio, it was 1984 and it was time to dive into the candy canes and pine cones, secret-Santa sharing, red and green hued world of our peers. We feasted on roast turkey with stuffing and cranberry sauce and finished it off with plum pudding and custard.