‘Green Goddess and chocolate balls: Memories of Christmas indulgence’

It was Christmas morning. Food steamed, spat and sizzled; delicious vapours filling the room. My brother and I were playing with a new game when the commotion erupted. All I remember is Dad’s face, pale and ghastly, as he aimed a sickly smile in Mum’s direction.

The ferocious attack she launched hardly seemed possible from such a tiny woman. The words fell like acid and Dad stumbled off to the bedroom. Strange how that image coloured how I perceived my father, he appeared shrunken after that Christmas, less a figure to be reckoned with. We spent a bleak day trying to be festive and making excuses for Dad.

Later snatches of conversation enlightened us. “Somebody spiked my drink,” he said. “Green Goddess it was.” Mum just sniffed and got madder when he told her that.

For a long time I imagined a woman in a sparkly green dress keeping Dad from his Christmas meal, that would explain why Mum was so angry. Why had she made him sick though?

I was 15 years old when I found the bottle of Green Goddess; it was a thick green liquid in the back of our cabinet. There it remained hiding with the Irish Cream and sherry. The memory of Dad’s disgrace kept me made me quickly return it to its dark corner.

The day after Christmas we always spent with my aunt, we met all the relatives and usually stayed overnight. My father had recovered enough to put on a clean shirt and drive us across town.

That year I felt truly lucky. It was not long after rationing ended and varieties of sweets were now on display again. I loved chocolate balls, they were my favourite confection and to my delight, my aunts and cousins had given me four boxes! It was Boxing Day before I had room for them, along with the dishes of nuts, mounds of ham, cold pudding and heavy iced cakes.

In my best dress, I was allowed to sit with the grown-ups. I felt sophisticated and I was allowed a small sherry. The four boxes of honeycomb chocolate balls were by now reduced to two!

Later, supper appeared, pickles and more meat, three desserts and a plate of after-dinner mints. The party went on for hours, with all my uncles and aunts laughing and drinking and sharing memories until past midnight.

Before bed, I polished off the third box of lollies. The wonderful melting chocolate was blissful on my tongue. I was wallowing in excess as pure greed took over.

In the cold dawn hours, my regret was real. I disrupted the whole house and kept five relatives with hangovers from sleeping. The few hours were a blur of buckets and cloths and disinfectant as I suffered for my indulgences.

After that my love of chocolate honeycomb balls ceased and I have hardly touched them since. Dad never had any Green Goddess either. For both of us it was a memorable Christmas!

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