A Christmas to Remember

December 25th, 2011 was a Christmas to remember in the junior Wilhoit household. For starters, this was our first Christmas without any family geographically close enough with which whom we could celebrate. While I don't think either Adam or I would consider this milestone one that we were hoping to achieve just yet, in a small way it is nice to know that, together, the two of us really do make up a family fit even for the holidays. With that said, we can not WAIT until next year when we will be back stateside and able to enjoy old, family holiday traditions...though perhaps we'll have a couple of our own Kiwi ones to add to the repertoire.

For starters, we attempted to create our very own, genuine Kiwi masterpiece...the pavlova. (Insert impressed gasps of oohs and aahs here, please) In gathering local wisdom about how best to bake a pav, it was recommended to me that I start making the Christmas pavlova on Thursday night. Thursday was advised because, in the event that it didn't turn out, I could try again on Friday, and then again even on Saturday if necessary. Being the proud, independent, and culinary genious that I pretend to emulate, however...I didn't start until Saturday night...about 11 o'clock in the evening.

Things seemed to be going pretty well.  The eggwhites whipped right up, we actually had ALL of the ingredients on the recipe list for once, and I even managed to create a make-shift compass out of some twine and a pencil in order to create the perfect circumference guide for our mound of white deliciousness. 

Having smoothed and slathered to our hearts delight, we popped the pav in the oven and left it, as prescribed, completely sealed inside the oven so that after it was done cooking it could cool without a sharp drop in temperature.  It was with great anticipation that we raced to the oven the next morning to unwrap our treasure...a big cracked globe!  So much for our masterpiece. 

The pav may not have turned out quite as expected...but at least Santa managed to find us in our kiwi greenhouse.  It was SO WARM Christmas morning!

Since Christmas landed on a Sunday this year, Adam and I enjoyed a yummy breakfast for two of homemade cinnamon rolls (another baking experiment that was thankfully a bit more successful) and then quickly unwrapped some very thoughtful Christmas gifts.  We then gussied up and shot out the door for church, which had mercifully been bumped up to 10 o'clock with services for only an hour. 

This is a bit where our Christmas celebrations took a bit of a detour, however.  Upon arriving at our friend Heidi's house to pick her up for a day of orphaned American celebrations, she met us at the door with a bright red foot, having dropped a pot of boiling water on herself earlier in the morning.  Needless to say, we left her soaking her foot in cool water and went off to church.  When we returned to her home to check in, her foot had swelled into quite her own personal blistery-pavlova shape, so it was off to the ER.  The kind nurses in the Emergency Room informed us that it would be at least two hours before Heidi could be seen - but that an after-hours clinic would be open just down the road.  So we popped back in our trusty car to get Heidi down to a doctor who could see her more promptly.  Thankfully, the urgent care specialists were just slightly less busy - and we only waited about an hour for some expert pain relief and foot wrapping.  Here Heidi shows off her very unexpected Christmas present!

While our original plans for Christmas afternoon included a beautiful day throwing frisbees on the beach and munching picnic delicacies, we were more than happy to return to our quaint apartment on The Terrace for a very laid-back afternoon of watching The Muppet's Christmas Carol and practicing our New Zealand geography playing a new game given by Heidi, The Amazing Moa Hunt.  We lazily put our final touches on a deliciously humble Christmas potluck dinner.  Adam made an amazing stuffed chicken roll, Heidi mastered the potatoes and green beans, I was petulant and insisted on our traditional sweet potato casserole, and we all agreed that the carrot/cranberry/yogurt salad out of Edmond's cookbook was an experiment best left off of next year's menu.

And dessert, you ask?  In the end it was decided that Christmas Pavlova Parfait was the best way to rescue our fallen dome.  It may not have come with the pomp and circumstance of the traditional dessert, but it was both short and sweet - qualities we happen to admire in this household.

Merry Christmas everyone.  We love and miss you always.  May this beautiful season bring you all the happiness and warmth that we can send.