Well, that’s December’s cherry well and truly popped…I had my first Christmas dinner of the season last night, and very nice it was too. It was a work function, an afternoon working session rounded off by a chance to kick back and relax with some colleagues over food and a few drinks. I vaguely remember I had to get my menu choices in a couple of weeks ago, and for the life of me I couldn’t remember what I’d ordered, but as it turns out that didn’t matter – someone had helpfully written everyone’s menu choice on their place cards.
That’s a great system, although I suspect the old me would have been a bit less impressed. I mean, hands up who hasn’t pretended they’d ordered what looks like the tastiest option when the plates start coming out…? This is mine..? No, there’s been a mistake, I ordered one of those ones…and if, you know that involved pointing to the plate with the most generous helping of whatever, well, that was purely a happy accident.
Anyway, no room for mistakes last night. With my halo in place and shining brightly I’d ordered melon for my starter…not a dinner option made by anyone, ever, unless they are watching their waistline. I mean don’t get me wrong, I LOVE melon…I’ve eaten two of them this week. But when I eat melon, I cut off the skin, chop it into big wedges and get stuck in.
Last night, it was beautifully arranged in the middle of the plate, fanned out with an artistic pea-sized smear of something sweet and red. I’m not kidding though, when I tell you that a good 90% of the plate was lacking the presence of melon. It’s like they were overwhelmed by demand and had to cut 100 portions from one melon. I looked around the table with envious eyes at the people who were tucking into filo goats cheese parcels with cranberry coulis, and pate with french toast.
I did feel better when my eyes landed on a bona fide skinny string bean colleague, who was the only other person on my table who’d chosen melon. Like me! I couldn’t help feeling elated because I was doing it the skinny girl way. Except I wasn’t, not really.
Every time I looked across the table she was either delicately cutting a piece off, or chewing, or dipping a bit of melon in the red pea sized smear…she made it last for like 15 minutes. Me? Two bites and the melon was history. 100% of my plate was a melon-free zone before she’d even decided which centimetre of melon to go in for first.
For my main course I’d ordered turkey with all the trimmings, and it was yummy. It’s always good to be reminded what normal portions look like – small, is what they look like to me if I’m being honest. But having said that, I didn’t over-indulge…chance would have been a fine thing, but it was nice not to be tested. Had there been any kind of test, I would have passed – by default – with flying colours, because I’m here to tell you if there was more than 400 calories on that plate I’ll bare my arse to the world.
I’d ordered the cheese board to finish with, for a number of reasons…firstly it came with grapes, and that’s healthy, right? Secondly there was only two cheeses mentioned, one of which was brie which I don’t like, so compared to the other options of Christmas pudding, chocolate tart or eton mess it seemed like the safest one. And it was. Two crackers and a matchbox sized serving of really tasty cheese with the six grapes on offer was just about perfect. Small, but perfect.
Incidentally, the bloke sat beside me – who had a very well cultivated mid-section – said the Christmas pudding wasn’t the best he’d eaten. He still almost took the pattern off the plate in his eagerness to finish it all though. It’s a good job I wasn’t drinking…a couple of glasses of fizz inside me and I might have invited him to join the posse.
So, I drove home feeling very smug. To be fair, there was very limited opportunity for the asshole in my mind to talk me into anything. My sensible choices were made way ahead of time, but I still I resisted the coffee and mince pies afterwards…get me, a regular little goody two shoes. Mind you, tonight might be a bit different…tonight’s invitation involves a different set of work friends, beer and something described by the host as dirty pizza. Much harder to resist. But you know I’m on it 🙂
