Americans like to use capital letters, I’ve noticed, so I’m ignoring my own mental style guide when it comes to the title of this post (plus, you could argue it’s a proper noun, given the film reference). Grammar aside, you may be wondering where I’ve been these past couple of weeks. Nope, not gorging myself on turkey and mince pies in England… nor experiencing the slightly bizarre wonder that is “gourmetten” in the Netherlands… this Christmas, I was in Texas. And as we all know, everything is bigger in Texas.
A lot of people asked me beforehand what Christmas Day cuisine involves Stateside. Well, now I have the answer! Christmas morning began with the dubiously addictive “Creamed Chipped Beef” for brunch. I struggle to describe it in any other way than this: imagine chunks of dry toast topped with small, thin slices of a kinda cross between corned beef and ham (I told you it was dubious) floating in a thick white sauce (or gravy, as the yanks would probably call it) and dusted with ground black pepper. It’s odd. But strangely more-ish with a Christmas hangover and a mimosa.
