My almost-always annual no-tree tree trimming party

Tonight was my tree trimming party, a party I've been giving in one form or another since 1965. I do it because I always thought trimming the tree should be festive and fun, and it wasn't when I was a kid. Nowdays I don't have a tree--never home at Christmas, etc., though I sometimes think I'll get a small table tree and a couple of years I've had really small trees that fit on the coffee table. I've been giving this party since 1965--sometimes a Sunday night, one year desserts only, sometimes at 8:00, tonight at 5:30 so people who had other plans could move on. I like the way that worked and may do it again.
Every fall, about October, I debate whethr or not to have the party, and a howl goes up from some of my friends because that's the only time they see each other. I always end  up having fun at my own party, getting lots of hugs. Many of these people are ones I don't see often, others are part of my daily life. These days, there's a big contingent of family--some direct relations, some by marriage--and there are lots of kids. My brother brings his side of the family which has grown larger than mine, since most of my kids are not close enough to come for an evening. Jordan is a whiz at planning the kids part of the party--pigs in a blanket, pretzels, chips, ranch dip, carrots, and Christmas trees to color. I don't know if any kids ever did color them tonight, but they all seemed to have a good time. The kids were all my grandnieces and grandnephews, one grandson, and two distantly related  by marriaige.
For the adults I served my traditional cheeseball, the one my mom made, liver pate, a caviar spread, cheese with curry that you top with chutney, a cheese ring topped with strawberry jam, veggies and a Caesar dip, persimmon bread, a reuben dip (always disappears).

After the food was put up and the dishes done--I hired a "party angel," a lovely woman who did a great job--I got to thinking about the business of giving a party. It's an expense for my limited budget, no doubt about it, and it's a lot of work, because there's the house to decorate, even with no tree, and I make all the dips and spreads myself and serve wine and soft drinks--no mixed drinks, no beer. Tonight folks drank a case of white wine and almost a case of red. But to me, in some strange convoluted thinking, giving this party is part of staying  young and not growing old, not saying "I can't do the party this year. I'm too old and don't have the energy." That day may come, but I hope not soon.  

As I say every year, in the afterglow of the paty, I'm doing this next year and I begin planning. There just so many people I wish I could invite and don't have room  for because of all those regulars. Hmmmm--next year, caviar dip, liver pate, cheeseball, and some surprises. And Jordan wants those meatballs that are really sausage, cheese, and Bisquick. Okay, not gourmet but good.                                                     

The pink Christmas tree

When I was a child, I had neighbors who, childless, adopted me as their own. I called them Auntie E. and Uncle Jack, and they probably provided most of the clothes I wore as a child. They spoiled me rotten, took me to the country club where, one night when I ordered fish, she, a devout Catholic, said, "You don't have to eat fish, dear. It's not Friday." They also took me to a fancy dinner club at the Chicago stockyards, where I remember branding my own steak. I was as much at home in their house as my own, and I adored them. In the dark streets of Chicago, Uncle Jack never allowed me to go two doors from their house to mine--he escorted me.
Auntie E. had a Twelfth Night custom that I've never heard of before or since--she would light a fire, and each of us in turn would throw in a small piece of the Christmas tree, making a silent wish as we did so. I thought it was charming, and I've carried on the custom with my children, though these days it's down to Jordan, Christian and me.
But I haven't had a tree in years. I used to cruise the streets, find one that had been set out, and furtively clip some branches. But each year more and more people go to artificial trees. I called Jordan tonight and asked if she had any live greens. She said, "Nope. That's your problem. It has been for 32 years (all of her life)." I told her this morning as I drove by a new house that stands out like a sore thumb in our neighborhood of charming old houses, I saw they had put out a pink Christmas tree. "I refuse," I said, "to clip a pink Christmas tree." Her reply was, "You may have to." I guess tomorrow I'll take clippers and drive the streets, looking for a green tree--or maybe a flocked white one would be okay. Pink is definitely out! Funny how those traditions get ingrained--if I don't have three small twigs, I'll feel really bereft. Then again, maybe it's silly to think of making a selfish wish on a night meant to comemmorate the arrival of the three wise men with their gifts for the Baby Jesus. The secular and the sacred.

Egg-less meals and Christmas trees

My egg-less meal turned out to be just fine and my guest less allergic than I had thought. He said eggs cooked into things don't seem to bother him, but since he mentioned mayonnaise I thought it was best not to use egg nooodles. Here's how I amended the recipe.
I cooked a cup of raw rice in 2-1/2 cups chicken bouillion with a pat of butter and put that in the bottom of a 9x13 casserole. Then I cooked 16 oz. chopped broccoli and layered it next. I baked five chicken breast halves--I always put them in a roasting pan, sprinkle salt and pepper and sliced onion rings, cover the whole thing with foil, and bake at 350 for about an hour. Cubed, the chicken made the next layer. The sauce consisted of 8 oz. Velveeta, 1 can cream of mushroom soup, and 1/2 cup white wine--cooked in a double boiler until smooth and poured evenly over the layers. Then I topped it with grated Parmigiano Reggio and baked for 1/2 hour at 350. It was really good if I do say so. And my guests liked it.
I planned this meeting for home because it was a more relaxed and congenial atmosphere, we could all hear each other without worrying about restaurant noise, and we could linger at the table--which we did. Plus my guests were so pleased to come into a warm house, brightly decorated for Christmas and with a fire in the fireplace, on a cold and wintry day. As they left, I said I thought it worked out better than a restaurant, and one said, "Yeah, and we ate a lot better."
For years I used to have a tree trimming party. It's an old tradition that goes back to the fact that trimming the tree in my family was no fun. We all went to buy it, my father and brother put up the lights and disappeared, and mom and I decorated. It was not the festive togetherness time that I thought putting up a tree should be. So when I had my own home I decided to make it fesetive--and guests did pretty much decorate the tree. But as my kids married and moved away the party became Judy Alter's almost-annual sometimes-there's-a-tree party. And there never was a tree because Christmas Day always found me in someone else's home. But this year I have a live tree! Okay, it's only two feet tall, and it came pre-decorated from Harry & David--with Santas with plaid trim and tiny reindeer and plaid-wrapped packages--appropriate for my year of Scotland. It's really cute. It's also pre-decorated with lights, but I have it on the coffee table and may forget the lights rather than tape an extensio cord down--haven't decided that yet.
After Christmas, the tree can be planted, so I planned to give it to a friend who has a huge and beautiful garden. Jordan said, "Oh, good, we can plant it." My worries about that are that they aren't gardeners and they won't live in their current house forever. The gardening friend was here today when I unwrapped it, and I kept referring to it as her tree. We'll see.