I like to think of myself as a generous man. I like to think of myself in that way, but the evidence doesn't always stack up in my favour, especially at this time of year. The fact is I have come to find the whole dynamic of food and drink on New Year's Eve terribly frustrating.
For many years I did as convention demanded. I greeted an invitation to a cracking New Year's Eve party as an opportunity to indulge in some very good wines: something fizzy, luscious and old which would leave you with little change from a hundred quid note, to be followed by the best bit of Bordeaux I could afford.
It took me quite a few years for me to clock that I almost never got to drink them. It is the nature of a good party that you bring along your bottles, present them as you arrive – and then they disappear. The next time you see those two precious vintages someone has necked the contents and the bottles are being used as emergency ashtrays. I mean, I'm happy to share, but really!
And then I became a parent and, despite what we tell our kids, I discovered I was less happy to share than I thought - though, in my defence, it was circumstance that taught me this. Once we had a small child in the house the big New Year's Eve party became a non-starter. The price of babysitters was prohibitive and anyway the little blighter was bound to wake up at 6am, oblivious to what his parents had been up to the night before. Kids! No consideration. So my wife and I decided to stay in and eat at home and through events beyond our control – the two mates who were going to join us had to cry off – we found ourselves alone. And for the first time I got to drink that bottle of Vintage Krug and I got to wallow in that lovely, soft St Emilion.
The food also made more sense. On New Year's Eve our instinct is to push the boat out, but the more of you there are to feed the harder that is to do. I've hosted New Year's Eve dinner parties for 20 before now and, at those numbers, it really is impractical to do anything luxurious or fancy. I served haggis and neaps and very nice it was too. But with just two of us to feed, ah well, now we could have some fun.
I'm not talking intricate cookery here but, as with the wines, I am talking the best ingredients money could buy. To whit: the best Scottish lobster, bought from the fabulous F C Soper in Nunhead near Peckham, the beasts landed in Scotland and boiled in the shop within just a few hours. After that, impeccable sirloin steaks cut according to my specification by my favourite south London butcher – anything under an inch and a half thick is a waste of time – and seared in a pan which has been allowed to heat until smoking for half an hour. With that, wild mushrooms – porcini, girolles, trompette – sautéed in butter and garlic and, of course, perfectly made chips. Complex? No. Classy? Oh yes, very much so.
This was how we have welcomed in the turning of the calendar, my wife and I, for the past seven years. But the kids are a little older now and we can, once again, entertain the notion of something more involved. We have been invited to a party and we're looking forward to it very much. Will I buy the big bottles of wine? Probably, but I like to think I will be able to let them go. As to the food, my contribution will be a big hearty pork, butter bean and chorizo stew. It's engineered for precisely the kind of weather we are experiencing right now. It should be a very good night. And I hope to rediscover my generous side.
But what about you? How will you be celebrating New Years Eve? What food traditions do you have and what will you be cooking? We like to share here at Word of Mouth. Or at least I'm sure some of you do.
