I didn’t grow up peeling back the cardboard flaps of advent calendars to reveal miniature chocolates or pieces of candy every day leading up to Christmas. In my family, we had a menorah and eight nights of candle-lighting in one room, and an oversized tree bedecked with colored twinkle lights, sparkled garlands and ornaments that my parents had carefully collected since before my older sister’s birth, in another. I grew up at the juncture of two traditions yet raised resolutely Jewish.
Since I’ve been in France, I’ve connected rather with my (vaguely) spiritual side and moved away from any kind of religious practice. And yet, every year at the first mention of bûches de Noël and marrons glacés and at the first sight of department store window decorations, I’m yanked back into a state of unutterable joy that could only be set off by the spirit of a holiday celebration. As an artifact of both culture and environment, it’s the measured festivity and rituals of the table during Noël in France that appeal to me the most. It’s never over the top but always a time of honoring the makers that surround us. We head straight to our favorite food artisans…
