Growing up in India, we never let religion get in the way of a good party with outstanding food. My Hindu parents happily embraced Eid with family friends and partied until dawn on Christmas Eve.
That spirit of joyful gathering feels especially alive at Christmas, a celebration that transcends borders and belief. Nowhere is this more evident than in our food.
Across cultures, Christmas is often celebrated the day before with a meal of magnitude. For the Swiss, this may mean fondue or raclette, while the French are known for le réveillon, a grand multi-course meal.
Yet the turkey dinner on Christmas Day remains a showstopper. Cranberry sauce at the side, potatoes roasted in fat and sprouts with chestnuts or pancetta are familiarity and tradition rolled into one. We add our own touches where tamarind sauce replaces gravy, or spice rubs adorn a roast. Tradition is rarely static. It travels, borrows and merges.
Where turkey isn’t served, the feast is no less abundant. For Ranji Thangiah’s British-Sri Lankan family, biryani takes centre stage at their rented Norfolk cottage. This dish was also a staple at Christmas celebrations in my Kolkata childhood, where Muslim bakeries sold fruitcake and decorations alongside bread. With its Muslim heritage, biryani has long crossed religious and cultural lines, becoming a ceremonious centrepiece to gather around.
The ritual of gifting fruitcakes – soaked, wrapped and shared – is a gesture of generosity, and one embraced by Ranji. It’s a journey that commences in October and contributes to the anticipation of the big day.
Elsewhere, Christmas takes shape in acts of making and sharing. For Melissa Hemsley’s Filipino family, lumpia are non-negotiable. The preparation itself becomes a ritual, mums and aunties sitting around the table, rolling, filling, frying, arguing over who has been too stingy or too generous. The joy lies not only in eating them, but in the laughter woven into every move.
Of course, there are places where Christmas traditions survived in the shadows. For Olia Hercules, who grew up in the Soviet Union, Christmas was forbidden. New Year was elevated as the state holiday instead. A trip to Western Ukraine in the 1990s was a revelation: embroidered coats, singing and dancing, and 12 pescatarian dishes laid out with pride. Now, her Christmas table blends old and new with varenyky dumplings filled with kraut, mushrooms and UK-inspired roasted chestnuts – a nod to both her homes.
The level of effort often matches the quality of ingredients at the Christmas table. Zeppole – golden, sugared pastries – are a festival favourite for Italians that are likely to vanish as quickly as they are served. In France, scallops with hazelnuts are elegant yet simple. They share the same intention: to mark the season with something special, something worth the effort.
But festive feasting doesn’t end there. Melissa thinks that leftover lumpia could make a divine Boxing Day sandwich with sweet chilli mayo, and she might be on to something. Boxing Day is, of course, the spiritual home of leftovers, although in my house they disappear into baps on the big day itself.
Christmas is not one feast but many – the act of making and sharing, and most of all, finding ways to keep traditions alive and evolving, no matter where we are in the world.
