So It's the Week after Christmas, and What Have You Done?

“Are you absolutely sure?” I asked. “Shouldn’t we talk about it?”

“No, no,” JP said, shaking his head and gently waving his hand, as though brushing sediment from a windowpane. “It’ll be better this way. Trust me.”

“You’re right, everything will be fine…” My voice trailed off, and then I caught myself. “You do realize that we’re talking about taking our laundry to the drier.”

JP clutched his left side and collapsed in a slow, silent wheeze.

“A momentous decision!” I guffawed.

Such was the extent of our holiday-induced laziness. The two days leading up to Christmas -- and the five days after it -- had stretched out in honey-toned languor, a legato adagio of leisurely meals accented by the tinkle of toasting glasses and trills of laughter. Work was routinely and summarily ignored; chores were left flagrantly half-finished.

Though I felt guilty for indulging in that dangerous cocktail of gluttony and sloth, I reminded myself that Christmas and New Year’s only come around once a year and, if you’re lucky enough to be able to celebrate for eight days, there’s no reason not to.

We’ve been doubly lucky. Every day has been a veritable fruit day, starting with a trip to Tsukishima for monjayaki -- gooey, savory pancakes fried on a hot plate at your table. I can’t remember if it was my first or second encounter with monjayaki, but it was certainly the tastiest. I’ll admit that I was wary of the combination of mentaiko fish roe, chewy mochi rice cakes and (of all things) cheese, but it was actually pretty good. From Tsukishima we wandered through Tsukada, the birthplace of the sugary, soy-steeped morsels of fish called Tsukuda-ni that JP loves to eat with plain white rice. On the tenth night of Christmas, we ended up having sweet, creamy Nagasaki oysters on the half-shell with a crisp glass of Fallen Angel Sauvignon Blanc, followed by two decadent glasses of Charles Melton Nine Popes, a voluptuous blend of Shiraz, Grenache, and Mouvedre.

Our Christmas Eve dinner at Gilio was one of the best yet -- a fluffy pillow of fresh Hokkaido crab salad, simple sea bass carpaccio, pasta with eggplant and homemade sausage, a rare filet of venison smothered with oyster mushrooms. Lots of wine. Multiple desserts. You could practically taste the chef’s good mood in every bite.

Christmas was spent opening presents, sipping Clicquot with caviar, and munching on potato chips all day. At night, we had a quiet family dinner at home. I’m not a big fan of turkey, so we made a lean beef tenderloin roast with all quartet of proper sides -- creamed spinach, maple-roasted carrots, black-eyed peas cooked with bacon and anise, and crunchy seared nagaimo (to add a touch of Japanese flavor)-- and washed it all down with a seductively perfumed Lawson’s Dry Hills 2006 Pinot Noir that reminded me of cherry pie and a warm place in front of the fire. Misha celebrated with a surf n’ turf plate of boiled chicken and tuna sashimi.

The festivities continued down in Hayama, where our friends Mark and Miki treated us to a grand British feast. I had more than my fair share of his wickedly rich lemon pie, and the smoky Talisker scotch he brings out on special occasions.

On we roll, like stuffed pork dumplings, toward the New Year and a new decade. The one productive result of so much lazing about has been re-evaluation of my goals. Perhaps to the surprise of several friends and family members, I have a few, among them finally cracking the writing markets I’ve been daydreaming about for the past year. Writing daily and keeping up the blog. I’m also thinking that it’s time to start working toward a higher WSET certificate and visiting more sake breweries.

I hope your holidays have been as delicious, if not as lazy, as mine. Happy New Year to everyone, may 2010 bring you all the best!