‘I always remember my mother’s Christmas dinner at this time of year’

Mum has been gone for many years now, but I vividly recall her famous Christmas dinners. Preparation would begin months beforehand.

The Christmas cake would be lovingly prepared, the fruit soaked in whisky for at least three weeks. Then the other ingredients added as per recipe and cooked in a large tin lined with numerous sheets of brown paper.

Mum had a wood stove so there were strict orders about not putting any wood on it until the cake was cooked. This cooking time was around four hours, so Mum usually started it right after breakfast. Once the cake was cooked, it would be cooled and wrapped in more brown paper then put under the bed until nearer to Christmas.

Her next task was the pudding. It was a marathon effort which took almost all day.

The pudding cloth was greased and floured several times so to ensure a nice rubbery crust on the pudding. Threepences were added to the mix and it was all piled into the prepared cloth ready to plunge into the gigantic pot of boiling water. This water had to boil rapidly for the best part of the day. Mum said if it went off the boil, the pudding would be soggy and inedible.

Once done the pudding was cooled and left to hang suspended from the laundry ceiling. The cake and the pud had to be made in September, no later, or they would not mature before the big day.

Turkeys were bought and fattened, as well as a few chooks that were past laying. Sometimes we even had goose. Geese though, in my opinion, were a waste of money because they were usually very short on meat and also incredibly fatty.

Vegetables such as potatoes, pumpkin, carrots, parsnips, turnips, peas, beans and onions were all home grown. We lived miles from anywhere so most of the food was grown on the farm.

On Christmas Day, Mum would be up at 4am, stoking the fire and putting the meats on the roast. Veges were peeled and ready to add a bit later on. Custard was made for the pudding and cream separated from the milk ready to whip. Us kids helped by keeping up with the wood for the fire and shelling the peas.

Dad would drive 100km to pick up Grandma while all this was happening. Grandma usually arrived with numerous boxes of homemade tarts and biscuits. She also brought with her vanilla blanc mange. I would be hanging out for that.

With all my siblings and relatives gathered, as well as anyone who had nowhere to go, the gong would sound, so off to wash hands and comb hair, then sit in an orderly manner around the huge table.

It took no time at all and the food was demolished. Most of the adults would retire to the loungeroom afterwards, I imagine they would all be suffering from some degree of food coma. While I would join the other kids helping with the dishes. It was a job we all hated, but way back then, we would never complain. Our reward for helping was to be able to tuck into Grandma’s treats. It was all worthwhile.

Every Christmas I reflect on this time of my life and wish it was like that today.

Do you remember you family Christmas dinners as fondly as this writer? Share your story with us.

Do you have a story to share with Starts at 60 or Travel at 60? Sign up as a contributor and submit your stories to here. If your story is published on our websites, you’ll go into the draw for some great weekly prizes. You can also join the Starts at 60 Bloggers Club on Facebook to talk to other writers in the Starts at 60 community and learn more about how to write for Starts at 60.