When our girls were small, and their brother was nothing but a speck of stardust, we would sometimes steal away between Thanksgiving and Christmas. We’d ditch school and head to England, because that is where Ben’s extended family lives and there was usually some excuse—an anniversary party or a birthday—that didn’t take much arm twisting. His Granny was alive until a few years ago, and when she celebrated her 91st birthday we didn’t hesitate to fly over for it. We’re so glad we did.
Those trips weren’t always easy. Toddler jetlag deserves its own circle in hell, and during that first mini-vacation, England was in the clutches of a cold snap. Our hotel room’s window was stuck in a “cracked open for ventilation” position, ushering in an Arctic blast that left us all sniffly and ill-slept; the girls’ noses ran like faucets the entire trip. London is magical around the holidays, though, and its delights soon outweighed the trials of travel as we wandered the glittering streets way past bedtime every night. We made the obligatory visit to Father Christmas at Harrod’s, and he was so convincing I’m sure he extended the lifespan of our daughters’ beliefs. They squirmed and shotgunned pastries through high tea (“top tea” as they called it). The Winter Wonderland amusement park had sprung up in Hyde Park, and we spent hours on the kiddie rides and trying our luck at archery games, sub-freezing temperatures be damned.
In the countryside, hoarfrost blanketed graveyards and hedgerows, making everything look as though a giant hand had brushed it with icing; none of the pictures I took managed to capture the magic. When our fingers got numb we took refuge in warm, dark pubs where we drank warm, dark beer. The girls lived on mediocre chips and fruit pastilles. I don’t know how much they actually remember of these trips, though, especially that first one—if you ask them they’re probably recalling photographed scenes. And in this digital age our lives have become collections of crisply photographed scenes. (My own early memories are tinted orangish, no doubt because I’m actually remembering 70’s era photos rather than the occasions themselves).
The girls are teens now, and we haven’t been back to England for years. Playing hookie is now a no-no, and casual travel is all but impossible in the omicron age. Our holiday traditions, though, will always be partially British, just like our kids are. Typically, we’ll cap off the Christmas feast by dousing a Christmas pudding in booze and lighting it on fire. Someone runs it around the dinner table while it burns, as many times as possible before the flame dies out, because the more laps you can make the more prosperous the coming year promises to be. And Christmas would never be Christmas in our house without piles of sausage rolls, which often sit on a platter beside ham biscuits, a Virginia tradition from my childhood.
Christmas is never really the same as it was the year before, but it’s these little traditions that keep it festive. I’m experimenting with a vegetarian mushroom version of the sausage rolls and will keep you posted. For now, I give you our traditional recipe, both the short and the long versions….
Easy sausage rolls:
Ingredients:
1 package good quality, all-butter puff pastry (I like DuFour, in U.S. freezer sections)—defrosted overnight in refrigerator
6 or so good sausages, either sweet Italian variety or something sage-y. Feel free to experiment with non-meat varieties.
Flour for rolling
1 egg, lightly beaten in a bowl with a few drops of water
Instructions:
Preheat oven to 450°. On a lightly floured surface, lay out the puff pastry and gently roll it with a rolling pin until it’s even in thickness and just slightly compressed. Next, squeeze sausage from its casing and lay it vertically along the left side of the dough, in a couple of inches from the edge. Pat the sausage into an even strip, about 1 inch thick. Discard the casings. Now you’ll want to work out the width of the pastry needed to surround the sausage, allowing enough dough to overlap slightly. With a sharp knife, cut the dough parallel to the sausage. Brush edges with a little bit of egg and fold the dough over the sausage, until the sausage is completely surrounded. Press the edges firmly together to seal; you can use the tines of a fork to make little crimps along the edge. Now you should have a long strip of dough-wrapped sausage. Cut it into equal pieces (Size is up to you! We like them bite sized) and lay them on a lined baking tray. Cut small slits into the tops and brush with egg.
Bake at 450° for about 10 minutes, then lower heat to 375° and bake for another 10 minutes or longer, if needed. Pastry should be puffed and golden brown and the sausage cooked through and sizzling around the edges. Serve hot or room temperature. I like to serve them with mustard for dipping.
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Traditional Sausage Rolls from Scratch:
(This recipe was given to me by my mother-in-law, Pauline:)
