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IN YEARS PAST, THE FAMILY CHRISTMAS open house was fraught with last-minute drama. One year the power went off in the early afternoon, and everyone with a driver’s license was dispatched to buy candles or tote artichoke dip and ham biscuits to friends to reheat in their ovens. (The power came back on within minutes of arrivals, thankfully.) And another year my husband, feeling nostalgic, pulled out his great-great-grandfather’s eggnog recipe and made a batch. Every last flammable drop was consumed, and our next move was to brew strong coffee! Eggnog and its more Methodist cousin—boiled custard—have been the beloved Christmas party beverages in these parts ever since fresh eggs came from your hen out back and there were greater things to worry about than salmonella. Once I noticed you could buy pasteurized eggs at the supermarket I relaxed about drinking raw eggs in eggnog once a year. My dad always said the nog—the whiskey—cooked the eggs anyway, but then, my dad wasn’t a food scientist or a chemist, just an admirer of the alchemy of Jack Daniels plus cream. ... Subscribe to Anne Byrn: Between the Layers to read the rest.Become a paying subscriber of Anne Byrn: Between the Layers to get access to this post and other subscriber-only content. A subscription gets you:
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