I’m just going to put it out there: I LOVE Christmas. I’m the sort of girl who will put on a Christmas album in early November and spend six weeks organising my gift wrapping strategy. I love wearing ugly Christmas jumpers, I love sending out cards and I love putting up the tree (yes, even untangling the hopelessly knotted ball of fairy lights). And of course, I love the food.
However, a strange sense of foreboding comes over me when I think about giving food as a gift. Maybe I overthink it, maybe I’m too obsessive, but there’s definitely something nerve racking about handing over something that you’ve created and hoping that the recipient thinks that it’s as delicious as you do. There are no guarantees – you can’t blame the shop for their poor ingredient choices, or the manufacturer for the bland and boring packaging.
It’s all on you, and that is a scary concept.