I'll tell you why Christmas shopping is the worst. Like any shopping, if you go out looking for something specifically, it is never there. In fact, it might not even exist at all. Nobody makes those jeans that you’re desperately clinging to the idea of; they are a figment of your imagination. You'll never find them so you may as well go home now and stop torturing yourself. Shopping for presents for a group of people with entirely different interests and tastes, with a strict deadline and often stricter budget, tests the patience of even the most proficient of shoppers.
That opposite phenomenon, where you just ‘go shopping’ without a strategic objective and miraculously find items that are beautiful, fairly priced and things you actually like, never really happens to me because I don't brave the shops unless I properly need something. I'm not sure when or why shopping became a leisure activity as it's clearly an endurance sport. Perhaps my approach is my downfall. I’m not allowed lunch until I've got the thing I need or I'll spend the whole time lunching and not finding the thing.
There are exceptions, of course. Christmas food shopping, blissful. I don't even mind the other people and horrendously busy aisles as I usually do - I'm too focussed on my mission. Shopping for another person (when they're also there), generally enjoyable. The chances of me finding the perfect emergency outfit for that last minute event soar when it's for anyone that's not me. Book shopping is ridiculously easy because you can't do it wrong, you'll always come out with a book. Finding myself in the middle of Selfridges on a mideek evening, after work, two weeks before Christmas: hell on earth.
It felt very strange. There's supposed Christmas cheer everywhere and I even saw one of the make-up counters had made their staff dress up like the toy soldiers plastered all over their packaging. The decorations were colourful and extravagant, there were luxury goods stacked to the rafters, and everything smelt nice. All the shoppers walking around were well dressed with perfectly loosely curled hair and arched eyebrows, but they may as well have been in an airport terminal. Every expression was one of glazed-over indifference and I didn't spot a single smile cracking across the marble floors. Well, apart from my husband, who I’d collected from the pub to help me pick out a perfume and was chirpy beyond belief. I’m pretty cynical about retail therapy at the best of times but still found the absence of joy on every floor quite weird. Where was Rowan Atkinson filling bags with roses and cinnamon sticks, and people slyly making mental notes about something their partner was admiring so they could sneak back and pick it up later?
This week, soothing movie soundtracks as an antidote for chronic jangly Christmas pop.
We didn't get anything in the end, we threw in the towel and went to slurp up huge bowls of hot, rich noodles instead. Everyone in the ramen shop was having the time of their lives and I didn’t see a single good hairdo in the place. No chance of retaining a flawless face amongst the steam, splashing broth and flailing noodles, and dispassionate grimaces are similarly banished. Not a snifter of tinsel anywhere but undeniably, inescapably festive.
The morale of the story is simply to not do Christmas shopping. Let's all collectively decide to pack it in as a bad job. Or, as it's two weeks before the deadline and turning up empty handed if everyone else is contributing would probably be a faux pas (although it's still worth minimizing buying crap just for the sake of it), let's all focus on the main thing. It's what we're all really there for anyway - obviously referring here to the food. Not entirely unpredictable.
This week, therefore, I'm sharing one of my all time favourite recipes. It's a tiramisu recipe that changed my life because I honestly thought I hated tiramisu, and then I was taught how to make it properly and it turns out I just hate unnecessarily boozy desserts. I’m pretty sure I've made it every Christmas since I learned how to do it, and a few times in between too. It's the perfect Christmas dessert because it's rich but light, so manageable after a big meal, it gives everyone a much needed caffeine boost so you're ready for post-dinner games, and you can make it in advance so no stress required. I make the lady fingers myself, but honestly just buy some decent ones and save yourself a job if you're doing the rest of the dinner, nobody will notice. If you do nothing else over the festive period, give it a go and while you're scooping out the heavenly clouds of mascarpone for your loved ones, think how bloody lucky we are to be sharing desserts, terrible cracker jokes and a jolly old times together.
Tiramisu
Ingredients
For the ladyfingers:
2 large eggs
75g castor sugar
75g plain flour, sifted
1/2 tsp baking powder
For the tiramisu:
300 ml fresh, strong coffee, left to cool
4 large eggs
4 tbsp castor sugar
300g mascarpone
1/2 tsp vanilla paste/essence
2-3 tbsp cocoa powder
Method
For the ladyfingers:
Separate your eggs. Make sure the whites go into a large, grease free* bowl with absolutely no yolk.
Whisk your whites into soft peaks. This can be done by hand (tiring), handwhisk (easy) or stand mixer (ideal).
Keep whisking and add 1 tbsp of the castor sugar to the whites. Stop whisking as soon as they turn stiff and glossy.
In another bowl, whisk your egg yolks with the remaining sugar until pale.
Fold in your egg whites. Start with a dollop of whites that can be folded in pretty quickly, then gently fold in the rest a few dollops at a time so you retain as much air as possible.
Fold in your flour and baking powder.
Transfer to a piping bag and pipe out 3 inch lengths onto lined baking sheets.
Bake at 200°C for about 8 minutes, until starting to go golden but not brown.
Leave to cool.
For the tiramisu:
Fill a baking dish with your ladyfingers. You want a dish that the ladyfingers will fill to the halfway point, so the remaining space can be used for the topping.
Pour over the coffee to soak the ladyfingers. You should need the whole lot, but stop if it seems like the ladyfingers are saturated and you get coffee sloshing around the dish. Set aside while you make the topping.
Separate your eggs. As above, put your whites in a grease-free bowl.
Whisk your whites to soft peaks, then continue whisking and add the sugar 1 tbsp at a time. Once all incorporated and the whites are stiff and glossy, stop and set aside.
Put your mascarpone in a bowl and whisk for a minute or so until smooth and workable (this helps avoids lumps later).
Add your yolks and vanilla paste/essence to the mascarpone and mix until smooth - try not to over mix or beat.
Fold the whites into the yolks/mascarpone (as mentioned above, start with one dollop that you can do fairly quickly, then gently fold in the remaining whites a few dollops at a time).
Pour this mixture over your coffee-soaked ladyfingers.
Refrigerate for at least 4 hours.
When ready to serve, dust the tiramisu generously with the sifted cocoa powder.
*If you’re worried, just give your bowl a wipe round with kitchen paper and a drop of white vinegar.