Last-Minute Gifts for the Home Lover

Saturday was our annual Christmas party. As I mentioned, the menu was over the top. Far more food than was needed to feed the thirty or so attendees. I imagine we will be sharing leftovers with neighbors and friends for days to come.

A recurring joke in years past is whether or not I will remember the punch ladles. Once—once—when the party was held at the firefighters’ hall, I forgot them and had to run to a local store to buy something that would make do. Soup ladles. I did not forget them this year.

We did, however, encounter another small issue.

When we used to host the party at our house every year, these things never came up. But once we outgrew our home and moved the celebration elsewhere, the logistics of serving dishes, cups, glasses, and the like became more complicated. At home, we are well stocked. Party plates for a hundred guests, easily. Enough serving platters and bowls that I could triple the menu and still be fine. Wine glasses, punch cups, holiday-themed old-fashioned glasses, Christmas mugs—we are golden.

Serving utensils, however, are another matter.

At home, we simply default to extra forks or spoons from the silverware drawer. When you’re hosting at a venue that is not your own, that solution is not always available.

Several years ago, Kathleen purchased two sets of catering-style serving utensils specifically for parties. Last year, while washing and transporting dishes back to Matthew’s house, I noticed we seemed to be short on them, so I supplemented with extras from our own kitchen. Around that same time, Matthew had received a set of silverware as a gift from a young woman he was seeing, for his new house.

After last year’s party, all the plates, dishes, and assorted paraphernalia were packed into storage tubs and returned to our home, where they stayed. This year, I simply transported the tubs back to Matthew’s and washed everything for use at the party. I did notice, however, that there were no serving utensils beyond the aforementioned ladles. I picked up an assortment of plastic disposables during one of my errands.

I did not pick up enough.

As we were setting out the food, much to my embarrassment, people kept asking where the serving utensils were. Eventually, I had to rely on Matthew’s silverware. That was when I learned that when he and his lady friend ended their relationship, she took back the silverware she had given him. He has been making do with three place settings and a handful of larger spoons ever since.

So, regardless of whatever advice the December 1925 issue of Better Homes and Gardens offered for “Last-Minute Gifts for the Home Lover,” I believe the most appropriate gifts this year are clear: serving utensils for me, and a full set of silverware for Matthew.

The Cooks Round Table

Even the earliest editions of the Better Homes and Gardens included an article dedicated to sharing recipes, one homemaker to another.  While I’m refraining from sharing the recipe for batter fried celery from December 1925, let us ponder this instead.

What happens when you plan a menu?  I have shared before that our Christmas party menu is egregious in its excess.  There is Always way too much food.  Unnecessarily so.  Honestly, there really isn’t a good reason to be so over the top with it, but we are.  Kathleen had remarked recently that she had been asked if we go overboard on our party menu in order to “keep up with the Joneses?”  The truth is, there are no Joneses.  I don’t believe other people have parties like ours.  At least not ones that aren’t catered.  Or maybe they do, but we just don’t get invited to them?

This week is party prep week, and as Kathleen and I sat down to make the menu, her father asked what we were up to.  Kat said we were planning the menu, and I shared the oft repeated memory of when the boys were still in elementary school, saw the planned menu list, and added foods they thought we should have.  Paul added ham, because everyone loves ham, and Matthew added mozzarella, tomato, and basil appetizers because his gramma still had fresh basil growing on her basil plant.  Not the usual suggestions you would expect from children.

Then as Kathleen and I began making the list, her father was right there, making suggestions.  Have we ever served tortilla espanola at a Christmas party? No, not at a Christmas party, but plenty of other parties.  When was the last time we had little smokies?  Good question, it’s been a few years.  Deviled eggs were discussed.  When we got to the sweets, he was as eager as the boys had been, offering suggestions and alternatives.  He even tried to recall the secret family fudge recipe from memory to see if he could.  

He wasn’t the only one adding new things to the menu.  I managed to get a dirty martini dip on the list, and a marinated charcuterie I have been trying to get on the menu for a year or two.  Kathleen made some serious restrictions on the candy making, but, and also, yet, still… we will have to see if she can maintain her self control when she is actually in the kitchen making the candy.  

Kathleen has shared before that it never feels like Christmas to her, until we are in the middle of party preparation.  That for her, and for the rest of our family, this is our way of sharing our love with our friends and extended family.  So yes, the menu is too much, way, way too much, but it brings us holiday joy.

Dad's Practical Pointers

In preparation for this article, I spent some time thinking about the things I have taught my sons, both intentionally and by accident. After working up the courage, I asked them for their thoughts. Surprisingly, they were both eager to share.

Matthew told me that I taught him how to change a tire. He remembers it vividly. I was taking him to soccer practice while we were living in Denver when we had a blowout. I was dressed in work clothes with dress shoes, and we were already running late. He recalls that I stayed calm and matter-of-fact, showing him what to do as we went along. He added that every time he has had to change a tire since, he thinks of that day.

When it came to life lessons, Matthew said that he works hard at his jobs and performs well in stressful situations, something he believes he learned from watching me. He remembers spending weekends with me in my office after his soccer games were over, “helping out” while I worked. Matthew credits his commitment to hard work and his ability to stay calm under pressure to those moments. High praise.

Paul had a different answer. He recalled that I taught him how to tie his shoes, a practical lesson by any measure. When I asked about life lessons, Paul said that I taught him that we always do what has to be done, and that we can do hard things. Those phrases are throwbacks to 2011, when I was traveling often for work and away from home more than I wanted to be. Matthew would repeat them like a mantra during the times he struggled with my absence. Paul said those lessons mattered then, and that they still matter now. As an adult, he finds himself returning to them when things feel difficult.

What strikes me most is that the lessons my sons remember are not the ones I carefully planned or consciously tried to teach. They are the ones learned in the middle of ordinary moments, stressful days, and imperfect circumstances. A flat tire. Tying shoes. Showing up and doing the work. If there is any comfort in parenting, perhaps it is this. Even when we are unsure of ourselves, even when we are simply doing what has to be done, something good may still be taking root.

The End Is Not Yet

The editor of the December issue of Better Homes and Gardens penned a short piece titled The End Is Not Yet. I suspect the lingering memories of the First World War contributed to the somber undertone of the article. Despite the cheerful merriment of the season, the editor observed that the specter of war continued to loom over humanity, as it always had. Homemakers were urged to set their heads and hearts to “the outlawry of war,” and encouraged to make the Christmas spirit a living and active reality.

A century later, the sentiment feels just as timely. Across the globe there is war. There is strife. There is death. In recent days, acts of violence in public places, in communities both far away and close to home, have taken innocent lives. I want to say something profound, something deeply moving in the face of such loss during the holiday season. I want to, but I have nothing. People should not be gunned down during the holidays. The truth, of course, is that they should not be gunned down at any time of year.

I heard a sermon last year about Jesus being called the Prince of Peace and how that title does not promise an end to conflict or suffering. Arguments were made and perhaps they were sound?  I am not a biblical scholar. What do I know? Only this. Human life should be regarded as so precious that no one would ever consider committing such acts. And yet it is not. I do not know how to change that.

Homes of Famous Americans

A recurring feature in the early editions of Better Homes and Gardens was a spotlight on the homes of Famous Americans. The series was intended to highlight the architecture and landscape features of notable historic homes. My first instinct was to offer a similar exploration of a famous American’s house, until I realized I don’t know any local famous Americans well enough to request a tour of their living rooms.

Instead, I’m sharing a home I know very well: the home of my in-laws, Nolen and Elisa Dunaway. Built in 1929 and purchased by them in 2003, the house is more than 1700 sq ft, two stories and retains many Craftsman-style features that have endured for nearly a century.

In the front room, a stone-and-plaster fireplace anchors the space. Though now purely decorative, its primary purpose is to display a large photograph of Nolen and Elisa’s grandchildren, taken in 2004. French doors separate the entryway from the living room, and observant visitors may notice a hook-and-eye latch installed near the top. Family lore holds that Nolen and Elisa added it to keep little Matthew safely inside.

The staircase is carpeted, and both boys remember being instructed to sit and scoot up and down the steps when they were young. Their tendency to rush resulted in one too many trips and falls. When Paul turned ten, he grew tall enough that he had to duck his head while climbing the stairs. Matthew teased him mercilessly—until, a few years later, he reached the same milestone himself.

Upstairs, the bathroom features a large claw-foot tub. It is neither especially convenient nor likely original, but I am grateful for the countless times it was used to bathe my sons. Also upstairs is the “blue bedroom”; a room that is not blue, and does not have any visible blue features.  Built-in bookshelves in that room house the complete works of Charles Dickens, alongside a a once-beloved children book.  This forgotten favorite of the grandchildren may be waiting for the next generation of little readers.

This home may not be famous for its architecture alone, nor for the people who live within it. It is beloved because it has been filled with love for the past 22 years and, with any luck, will continue to be for many years to come.

Christmas Wreaths of Native Materials

The December 1925 issue of Better Homes and Gardens included an article encouraging homemakers to construct their own Christmas wreaths using materials native to the areas in which they lived. Sensible advice for a live wreath expected to last the season—and perhaps even more fitting for a time when instructions on foraging felt far less suspect. Foraging in 2025 is more likely to earn you concerned looks from neighbors, if not a visit from law enforcement.

I did briefly consider making a wreath from the dried sunflower heads still lingering in our flower beds a few weeks ago. Unfortunately, it rained, they became soggy, and I simply could not bring myself to imagine a wet, pulpy wreath hanging on the door.

As I pondered alternatives, it occurred to me that the broader advice still holds. Exotic plants that don’t grow naturally in your area are harder to find and less likely to withstand the season. Much like friendships. We all have wonderful friends and family who live far away and whom we’d love to gather close during the holidays—but is that practical? Is it sustainable, year after year? Hard to say. Local friends, on the other hand, tend to be more readily available and better suited to weather daily life alongside us.

Then there is the idea of binding. Certainly, fancy ribbon or tinsel makes for a pretty wreath, but will it survive a storm? There is an obvious joke here about binding your friends with wire or zip ties, but I’ll move past it. Instead, perhaps the better binding is goodwill—shared memories, generosity, and laughter.

The article concludes with suggestions for keeping your wreath fresh and “evergreen.” While I might enjoy the idea of spritzing some of my friends with water to freshen them up after a few weeks, that seems ill-advised. Still, there may be something to be said for checking in on them periodically, just to make sure they’re doing alright.

How to Carve the Holiday Meats.

Holiday meats. Read that again. And Again. After a few times, it just sounds so very strange. Slow it down in your head Hollllllllllidaaaaaaaaaaay Meeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaattttsssssssssss.  Kinda makes me want to be a vegetarian.

Where was I going with this?  One of the articles of the 1925 BHG was titled how to carve the dinner meats and shows a photographic set of step by step instructions on meat carving.  Instructions for crown roast of lamb, prime rib, baked ham, pot roast, and chicken, turkey, duck, and goose are all provided.  

So many questions: Do people still do crown roast? Do people have prime rib for Christmas? Lastly, when you carve your turkey for the holidays how do you do it?

When I learned to carve a turkey, (from my Dad circa 1989), I learned to start with the breast and do thin diagonal slices across the breast meat over and over until you are up against the bone.  I thought this was how everyone sliced turkey, until Kat demonstrated her method which is to slice the entire breast off in one piece, place it on a cutting board and then carve that piece into smaller cross pieces.  

I tried to show my sons the way I was taught, but I’ll give you 3 guesses which way they do it.  The first two guesses don’t count.  But now I have the expert instructions of the BHG 1925 christmas edition to tell everyone that I Was Right.

Now that will put marzipan in your pie plate bingo.