Remember figuring out the whole Santa thing? 

How’d it happen?  Playground rumor?  Meanie teenager informant? 

I, for one, overheard my older brother talking to his buddies, and boom!  Game over.  The Easter bunny, tooth fairy, leprechauns – they all fell like dominoes in Santa’s wake. 

So, the next time my parents tried the ol’ “don’t-sass-me-because-Santa-will-know” technique, I called them on it.  Mom pulled me aside and said, “Look, here’s the deal.  You play along and “believe” in the magic, and you get the same goods as before, um-kay?  If not, your haul gets cut by half.”

Errrrr, roger that, cap’n!

What I didn’t realize is that Mom was actually looking forward to me figuring it all out, because the following year, I was pressed into servitude.  I didn’t realize that she stayed up until the weeeee hours of the morning every year on Christmas Eve, cooking Christmas dinner (just as insane as Thanksgiving, by the way), wrapping top-secret gifts (which she started hiding at the office after we innocently discovered the stash one year), and loading up the stockings, which were three times the size of average stockings and loaded with each recipient’s favorite goodies.

And get this: at the bottom of that yard-long stocking, buried in the toe, was a note from Santa.  On it, a simple couplet was scribbled, which directed you to another room in the house, where you’d find a second note that led you to the “grand finale” gift.  The one we begged for all year.  The one that Mom and Dad convinced us would never happen, not in a million years.  The treasure hunt was exciting, to say the least – we wondered what could possibly be cooler than all the great stuff we already received from that jolliest of elves.

That first year of indentured service was eye-opening.  She’d have me wrapping gifts while she cooked, occasionally poking her head out of the kitchen to say, “C’mon, girl, we’ll be up all night!”.  Once the gifts were wrapped, we’d switch, and she’d do bows while I stirred the gravy and shaped the rolls, and called out criticisms, as pre-teens do (“Aw, man!  Why’d you go and put pecans in the sweet potatoes?”).  Then we’d break and go to Midnight Mass, as a family, which required waking my (wiser?) father and brother.  Back home at 1:30 AM, we tackled the stockings.  And then I remembered.

“Mom – the notes.  That was you?”

“What notes?” came the reply.

“The ones in the stockings,” I said.

I expected her to put her hand on my shoulder for a soft moment.  “Yes, honey, even the notes were from me.”  Instead she said, “CRAP!  THE NOOOOOTES!” 

I talked to Dad afterwards, and apparently, this happened every year.

IMG_1737So, we sat up at 2:30 AM, trying to figure out what rhymes with “stove” or “oven”, so we could send my brother to the kitchen for his gift.  I even helped write my own notes, without ever seeing the gift she ultimately hid to go with it.

Enter eggnog.  Sweet holiday nectar from the gods!

After the adrenaline of the early morning and subsequent gluttony of mid-day, Mom and I would be looking rough.  Too tired to nap, and too crabby to care.  And then Aunt Denise would appear with a mug of yuletide loveliness – her famous eggnog.  It was like liquid dessert, and she added just enough bourbon to either put some pep in your step, or give you license to lean over on Unk and start snoring.  Either way, I’ll take it.

Just this year, I asked her for the recipe, and turns out, she just riffs on a four-ingredient base (including store-bought eggnog)  and keeps adjusting and tasting until it seems right.  Simple and legendary, all at once.

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Lucky for you, Aunt Denise agreed to share the recipe.  Make it yours, and distribute to the “elves” in your family, as needed.  (The ones who are of the legal drinking age and/or have their parents’ permission, that is.)

 

Aunt Denise’s Yuletide Loveliness

1 to 2 quarts vanilla ice cream (she uses Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla)
8 ounces whipped cream or Cool Whip
½ gallon eggnog (your favorite store-bought brand)
Bourbon, rum, or brandy, to taste (approximately ½ cup to 1 cup)
Freshly grated nutmeg

Combine the ice cream, whipped cream, and eggnog in a punch bowl until just combined.  Taste and adjust proportions.  When satisfied, add liquor in small increments, tasting until satisfied.  Start conservatively – you can always add more!

Serve in punch cups or coffee mugs with a pinch of grated nutmeg on top.