It was the late 1970s when my father gave my mother the gift he really wanted for Christmas. Indeed, it was really a gift for the whole family. We would all be able to use it and we would all reap its benefits. My father gave my mother the largest, most monstrous microwave ever built for Christmas in 1977. It was a Panasonic microwave and it was at least as big as the conventional oven that was currently built into our kitchen wall, about half the size of the desk I’m currently using.
I had never even heard of a microwave before.
I’ve been making a lot of salads for myself lately. They’ve mostly been lunches and I’ve been using up everything I have left over. I have a particular fondness for foods like this - those that use up leftovers. You can do this easily with salads, omelets, frittatas, pizzas, quiche and the like. It’s gratifying to clean out the fridge and have a delicious meal at the same time. Here’s what I made with Thanksgiving leftovers - mixed greens with leftover brined turkey breast, roasted red beets, segments of clementines, sliced almonds and a beautifully stinky Stilton given to me by a friend. Of course, you can add any combination of ingredients you might have lying around your kitchen. Dried apricots are especially good with the vinaigrette.
My family has never been terribly devoted to outdoor activities, despite growing up in Calgary with the Rocky Mountains near by. We moved to Calgary from England in 1975. Upon our arrival, my father enrolled the entire family in cross-country skiing lessons. I expect he was thinking that it would be a nice activity for the family to do together in our new very cold home. I spent most of those lessons wrapped around my mother’s leg, which seriously hindered both of our successes at the sport. I think that was the last outdoor sporting activity I remember doing with my family. 
Every Christmas, I always had to wait until everyone in my family was, not only up and out of bed, but showered and fed breakfast, before I was allowed to open any Christmas presents. It was a cruel and unusual punishment. To compensate for this, however, my stocking was fair game as soon as I opened my eyes. I always found it at the foot of my bed when I woke up, and every year I explored its contents on my own before anyone else was awake. Then I would take it into my parents’ room to show them what I had received, not realizing that they probably had a good idea of that already.
I had a great time teaching in Wayne, New Jersey last week at 
There are so many great pizzas out there, but this is one of my very favourites. A pizza stone in your oven will significantly improve your results, creating a crispy crust and decreasing your baking time. If you’re not a big fan of mint, try using basil in its place.
When I think about the Christmases of my childhood, I don’t recall the stockings I received, the trees I decorated, the gifts I gave, or the carols I sang. When I think about the Christmases of my childhood, something that immediately comes to mind is sorrel, a West Indian beverage brewed from the leaves of a plant in the Hibiscus family. My mother would make sorrel in two different batches, every year in December, and only in December. One batch, spiked with rum, was for my father. The other batch was unadulterated and left for my brother and me to fight over.