Your sister put chicken stock in the vegan Christmas gravy. Your best friend booked the bach and neglected to mention your “room” would be a caravan next to the long drop. It’s summertime and the living is anything but easy.
The festive season is
Christmas survival guide: Top tips for navigating common seasonal dilemmas
Even Santa can outstay a welcome. Photo / 123rf
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Let’s assume this is a true scenario and not some desperate ploy by a grown adult too afraid to confront their family with the unpalatable truth: Turkey is a crime against Christmas and a pair of novelty socks soaked in gravy will provide the same textural effect as 99 per cent of all meals centred on this bizarrely large and famously dry bird.
At any large gathering, dietary requirements are a given. Cater to the gluten-free with pavlovas and wild rice stuffing; the lactose-intolerant will love an almond milk and agar agar custard. And for those who prefer their festivities flesh-free?
We consulted Claire Insley, New Zealand Vegan Society media spokeswoman, who said “it’s always hard - but it is also easy to be gentle and have your boundaries respected”.
Insley’s personal boundaries once extended to creating a Christmas table showstopper constructed out of parsnip “bones” coated in a turkey-shaped plant-based mixture. The less craft-inclined might consider googling “tofurkey”.
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“Bringing something that everyone can share is a great way to help people embrace your eating choices,” says Insley.
Christchurch-based Grater Goods, for example, sells Roast Furkey - a one kilogram roll of wheat protein-based seitan, stuffed with herbs and wrapped in a soy “skin” with a maple glaze. The same company does a Beet Wellington (the clue is in the name and, yes, the pastry is dairy-free). In the supermarket freezer section, Australia-based Fry’s caters to multiple barbecue and bring-a-sausage-roll situations. Any number of local companies now make vegan ice cream and dark chocolate is generally vegan friendly (but do check the ingredients list).
Insley says most families are happy to accommodate newly vegan whānau, so long as they have plenty of warning.
“They still love you! I always brought a vegan meat alternative with me to cook on the day. And they would cook some potatoes separately, not in the turkey fat . . .”
She says meat eaters might not always realise how confronting a traditional whole bird or leg of ham can be.
“It definitely looks like a pig or a chicken or a turkey. It’s not ‘slices of’. If you haven’t eaten meat for years or even dined near it, and suddenly your senses are assaulted with the smell of death and everyone’s going ‘yum, yum, yum’ …”
GROUP HOLIDAYS: Three families, one shared holiday rental. The kids are obviously bunking in the sleepout, but how do you decide who gets the bedroom with the view and the ensuite?
Megan Nicol Reed’s recently released first novel centres on a middle-class group holiday that spectacularly implodes. But well before we get to its truly dark heart, we find ourselves empathising with the main character as she stands on the doorstep of a summer rental on an island somewhere in the Hauraki Gulf.
If Lucy booked the bach, but Bridget’s husband drove the boat that got them there, and Roz didn’t do anything except complain . . . well, I think you can probably see where this is going and it doesn’t include three complimentary items of dry cleaning.
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Hotels are a democracy - and shared holiday homes are Lord of Flies with a barbecue. We asked Nicol Reed (author of One of Those Mothers) why she keeps returning to the scene of the group vacation crime?
“I have been on group holidays from which I’ve returned a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown. A brittle shell of the pre-holiday me, the one who was stupidly all buoyed up with hope and goodwill, alight with anticipation. And yet, call me cray-cray, but I persevere. Because when it works, when the crickets are singing and you’re lolling about on the lawn with a full puku, surrounded by loved ones, well your cup runneth over, doesn’t it?”
Nicol Reed’s top takeaways: “Prepare, prepare, prepare! Do not turn up and hope for the best. If there is a floorplan, study it. All things seldom being equal; inevitably there will be a mint room and a dud. Match guests with rooms well before check-in, so that the couple who got the basement may vent in the privacy of their own home, and have the time to accept their lot, or at least practice smiling graciously.”
She says if you holiday annually with the same group, “consider keeping note of who got the master last time. People have selective memories. And if someone is recovering from major surgery/recently bereaved/just been made redundant, well, then the rest of you should probably insist, no really, that the plum room is theirs for the taking”.
Also: “Accept, accept, accept! It’s likely someone in your group will be a champion organiser but not so hot on the cleaning. Or capable of putting together an Ottolenghi-esque meal with a packet of Sizzlers and a red onion, but strangely absent as their children run riot. Do not resent them. Smile when they round everyone up for a game of bullrush, while you collect their dirty dishes. Savour the smell of frying garlic while you break up a fight between the kids. Remember it takes all sorts.”
(NB: This does not extend to the group’s finances. Nicol Reed suggests circumventing any simmering resentment, and endlessly awkward I-paid-for-the-accommodation-but-you-owe-me-for-the-Mr Whippy/tequila conversations, by proposing a kitty at the outset. Every shared cost is covered, and funds are topped up as required).
“Finally, if there is a cleaning fee, then stump up for it. Do not choose to end your break with a passive-aggressive discussion about who’s cleaning the barbecue and who’s doing the toilets.”
HOTEL ETIQUETTE: Hotels intimidate me. Where should I leave the room service tray? Can I keep the mini shampoo? What if the people in the next room are having really noisy sex? Help!
Last Christmas, you shared your parent’s spare room with a rowing machine, seven half-finished jigsaws and an enormous desktop computer (don’t be alarmed, that was just your insomniac mother playing Patience at 3am).
This year, you’ve splurged on a hotel. You’re looking forward to peace and quiet. And, also, the complimentary unisex toiletries because, once again, you forgot to buy something for the family Secret Santa stash. Wait. Is that stealing?
Doran Whaite, QT Auckland’s general manager, happily answered our common hotel etiquette questions.
“Amenities are there to be used,” he says. “And if you need more, just ask the front desk.”
According to Whaite, hotels actually prefer that if you open the toiletries, you then take them home, to help avoid waste. (Things you should absolutely not take home: The hotel robe, the fluffy white towels and the Dyson hairdryer).
“Don’t think it goes unnoticed,” says Whaite. “Housekeeping knows everything that should belong to a room, and there is a price attached to nearly everything too. If you simply cannot return back to a life without our signature robe, you’re welcome to purchase it, just the way you would the chocolate from the mini bar.” For the record, those hairdryers are VERY expensive.
In a hotel, the front desk is your “ask me anything” friend. No question, even THAT question, is too awkward, reassures Whaite.
“You’ve broken the Nespresso, or your dog didn’t quite make it outside to the toilet? Accidents happen and honesty is the best policy. In any case, give the front desk a call.
“For those situations where the noises from next door are getting louder than your Netflix can mask, we’re here to help with that. Even a husband who snores. We can’t fix him but we might be able to give you earplugs for a more enjoyable sleep.”
And that room service tray? Whaite says tray etiquette comes down to what the customer is comfortable with.
“The waiter can bring it in and put it on the table, or hand it over at the door – just let them know your preference when they arrive. What do you do with your tray at the end? It’s not nice to sleep with your dirty dishes, and hotel preference is that you leave it in the hallway for collection.”
When it comes to drinks, don’t feel limited by the official list. Whaite says you can request pretty much anything you’d find in the bar (“negroni, anyone?”) with one important caveat: Avoid ordering a single martini 10 times in a row, “as you’ll be stung with a little delivery fee each time”.
Bulk martinis as a Christmas cost-saver? You’re welcome.
PARTY FAUX PAS: I finally got an invite to the swanky neighbour’s pre-Christmas drinks. And then I broke a glass and spilled wine on their carpet . . .
The average wage earner may be shocked to learn that Gucci makes glassware and that the coasters on the marble kitchen counter are not for decoration (orange juice, wine and coffee can corrode this opulent surface). Was your neighbour’s carpet sisal? Ricardo Simich has bad news for you.
“Even a glass of champagne or water will leave a mark,” says the Spy columnist. “Red wine looks like a murder scene”.
Simich, who has spent a decade-plus rubbing shoulders with the rich, famous and infamous, says he can “totally relate” to this etiquette question “being someone who has put his foot in his mouth and broken things at parties in the past”.
He recalls the time he accidentally poured vodka on a laptop (“it shouldn’t have been on the table”.) And the time he knocked over a battery-powered candelabra (“all the candles broke”).
The way out of these situations is to front foot the damage.
“No matter what, the rule is that first thing in the morning, you apologise profusely. You do it by text first to break the ice, but then you actually have to own it. They need to hear your voice.”
Hopefully you’ll receive the classic “accidents happen” response and a confirmation the homeowner has insurance. If not, you must offer to pay. And, regardless, start practising your cursive.
“Because the absolute correct protocol - no matter their initial response - is to follow up with a handwritten card and flowers.”
Simich says these simple steps should ensure a repeat invitation. But he also has stern words for carpet owners: “If it’s a party for 20, it’s a fair assumption that things are going to stay mature. If it’s a party for 60, perhaps you should put a tarpaulin down. Or at least tell everybody to drink outside.”
HOUSE GUESTS: My road tripping friends asked if they could crash. It’s been a full week and they show no sign of exiting the spare room. How do I hasten their departure?
Guests. Fish. Three days, etc. You know the *quote, now get it cross-stitched and hung on the back of the toilet door where even people who won’t get off the couch (let alone dry the dishes) are bound to eventually spot it.
We racked our brains for an expert in eviction etiquette. There is some useful information at justice.govt.nz but if arranging for a bailiff and/or locksmith to be present while you ask your besties to decamp to someone else’s spare room feels extreme, then you’ll need to find a Plan B.
Have you considered lying?
Invent a pending fumigation or bathroom renovation. Perhaps you “suddenly” have to head out of town yourself. (Pack a bag and be prepared to follow through when your mates pop back to retrieve the wet washing they left in the machine).
Longstayers are not confined to domestic locales. Hospitality workers would also like you to, eventually, go home. A colleague who spent the 1980s waitressing at her parent’s Chinese restaurant says if she wanted a table of customers to leave, she’d change the music and crank the volume: “The Sex Pistols. Or The Cramps. Really, really loud.” We’d suggest Snoopy’s Christmas on high repeat might yield a similar result.
* Attributed to Benjamin Franklin, a so-called “founding father” of America. For the record, Franklin’s parents sailed to Boston, Massachusetts in the 1600s - or considerably longer than three days ago.
OVER-IMBIBERS: Nothing says summer like cellar door crawls or a food and wine festival. But what’s the etiquette around free tastings?
In these cash-strapped times, it makes sense to try before you buy. If your curiosity extends to 17 salami samples before lunch we’re not judging. But opt for the full pinot gris-through-noir experience and trust us - the room will notice.
How much free wine is too much free wine is a question empirically answered with a breathlyser. You should also consult your conscience. In New Zealand, many vineyards are not licensed to charge for tastings; they are literally giving away their finest drops.
Loveblock Wine vintner Erica Crawford says she’s noticed that when people pay to taste, they do become more discerning. Meanwhile, courtesy demands free samples should not become free-for-alls.
“Producers really try to give people a good experience. So instead of freeloading, try and interact with them. Try to get some stories about the place and the people who pour the wine. Because everybody’s got a story.”
Self-awareness is key. The older wine bore, for example, should pay attention to any queues building behind them. The group of over-exuberant 20-somethings should know that normal conversation measures 65 decibels and glass shatters at 105dB.
“The more wine, the louder they squeal and then all of them squeal in concert . . .”
Crawford says first-timers should not be intimidated by the cellar door experience.
“I really enjoy doing tastings with novices. Sometimes they nail a flavour, because they’re not bound by expectations. That’s really useful for us as producers.”
If the sav smelled like cat’s pee and you drank it anyway (and also the rose, riesling and merlot), do you have to buy a bottle?
“I mean, that’s very nice, but I don’t think the expectation is there,” says Crawford. “What the cellar door allows you to do is actually experience a wine, far more than just buying it off the shelf. You have a jolly good time, and you buy a case and you go home and wonder what it doesn’t taste the same? It’s because you fell in love with the experience.”
Crawford says 15 years ago sauvignon blanc was “huge”. This summer, big oaky chardonnays are flying off the shelves. But if you want to really impress this Christmas, she recommends buying wine that connects personally with your host.
“I thought you might like this, because these people do this, and this, and this . . .”
And, for the record, anyone contemplating the cellar door as a cheapskate route to actual intoxication should know that (a) host responsibility rules apply and (b) those pours are small - “you’re going to have to go to a lot of places to get pissed!”
What would Mrs Beeton do?
In Victorian times, journalist Isabella Mary Beeton was the last word on aspic sardines, steamed veal and middle class manners. Does her etiquette advice go the distance? We consulted the revised edition of Mrs Beeton’s Cookery and Household Management (circa 1961) . . .
Formal dances: If a woman does not wish to dance when invited she replies pleasantly “Thank you, but I’m a little tired”. It would, of course, be pointedly rude to dance with someone else too soon after.
Dinner parties: Allow a minimum of 61cm for each person, measured from the centre of one plate to the centre of the next. Anything over 78cm would rob the conversation of any intimacy.
Staying at a hotel: Children and small animals must be kept in order and prevented from making a noise, romping boisterously indoors, occupying the best chairs, or otherwise interfering with the comfort of other guests at the hotel.
Tipping: One does not tip staff in a private house unless one stays there overnight. Then, if there is more than one servant, men tip the men servants and their wives tip the female staff.
Seating arrangements: The host should have on his right the lady to whom he wishes to show most courtesy, and her husband will sit at the hostess’ right.
Introducing strangers: Pronounce everyone’s name quite clearly and introduce the less important person to the more important one.
Television parties: Be careful to invite only people likely to be interested in the programmes in question and inform them beforehand of the time of the programmes, to avoid interruptions by latecomers. Ensure everyone has a good view of the set, with soft lights behind the viewers with a small table for refreshments, ash-trays and so forth on hand for each guest.
Serving Stilton: It should be cut horizontally, not scooped from the centre. Port may be served with it, but should not be poured into it.
