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| PARIS, FRANCE - NOVEMBER 28: People visit the Christmas market at 'Jardin des Tuileries' on November 28, 2018 in Paris, France. This Christmas market offers gites set up there to offer a variety of gift ideas and tastings of delicious dishes of our land, all in the spirit of Christmas. |
Holy Evening, Kiev
As Orthodox Christians, Ukrainians celebrate Christmas on 7 January with a 12-dish feast called Svyatyi Vechir (Holy Evening). The night before, singers go from house to house wearing colourful embroidered clothes and carrying the star of Bethlehem to symbolise the birth of Jesus. The procession is often accompanied by a traditional vertep (a portable wooden puppet theatre that first appeared in the 17th century). I remember the thrill of participating in the carol singing when I was a child. I was regularly cast as an angel in the nativity plays on the streets of my hometown, Uzhhorod in western Ukraine. South of Kiev, the open-air Pyrohiv Museum of Folk Architecture and Life showcases the traditions of Ukrainian Christmas among old village houses and windmills. On 7 January the museum recreates a typical Ukrainian rural Christmas celebration with carols, food tastings and a church service. For a more urban experience, St Sophia’s Square in central Kiev holds a procession of Bethlehem stars.
Pavlo Fedykovych
Le Réveillon, Paris
Like most people living in Paris, I start my festive season with the réveillon, France’s traditional Christmas Eve dinner, which begins around 9pm and carries on into the early hours. Anyone visiting the city can easily join in the Christmas celebrations, because markets and shops stay open all day on 24 December, with most people, myself included, frenetically buying provisions for the evening meal. This year may be different because of the gilets jaunes protests but whether they’ll disrupt the Christmas break remains to be seen. I live near the Bastille, so tend to shop at Le Marché d’Aligre, a street and covered market that dates back to 1779. Fishmongers prepare giant plateaux de fruits de mer: oysters, crabs, prawns, mussels and whelks on a mound of crushed ice. There’ll be a long queue outside the cheesemonger – try the delicious creamy Mont d’Or – but fortunately it has a pop-up bar serving craft beers. The bakery rapidly sells out traditional bûche de Noël, a rich chocolate log. For a well-earned holiday drink with friends, choose between a mint tea at the stallholders’ fave hangout, Le Penty, or join the chic shoppers tucking into freshly shucked oysters and chilled chardonnay at Le Baron Rouge. If you’re on a night out, there are plenty of classic brasseries – such as Bofinger, 100 metres from Place de la Bastille– serving Christmas cheer.
John Brunton
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| This is Paris during christmas holidays with a christmas trree in the front of Notre Dame de Paris. |
Vermut: Christmas in a glass, Barcelona
The Catalan equivalent of the Christmas morning walk and drink at the pub is a stroll along the beach before stopping for a vermut – fortified wine infused with herbs and spices that, when poured over ice with a slice of orange, is Christmas in a glass. Espinaler – 20km out of town towards Mataró in Vilassar de Mar and going strong since 1896 – is always convivial, but never more so than on Christmas morning. Locals come for breakfast or lunch, and clink glasses with friends and neighbours around marble-topped tables fuelled on house-made conservas (canned cockles, razors clams and mussels, sardines, anchovies and olives) and olive oil-fried crisps with top-secret Espinaler sauce. If you don’t fancy that, its salt cod fritters, Russian salad and patatas bravas are excellent too. If you do, it has several Christmas hampers filled with ready-to-serve conservas and vermut (from €9.95 for the mini version) on offer this yea.
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| Participants in a Santa Claus suits jump into the water during the 108th edition of the 'Copa Nadal' (Christmas Cup) swimming competition in Barcelona's Port Vell on December 25, 2017. The traditional 200-meter Christmas swimming race gathered more than 300 participants on Barcelona's old harbour. |
Tara Stevens
Julbord in Sweden
Since moving to Sweden in 2012, I celebrate Christmas a day early. The 24th is a day of julbord (buffet of herring, gravlax, meatballs, ham, red cabbage), big fires, and Tomte (Swedish Santa). For the 25th I’ve adopted my Swedish wife’s tradition: we head to Sundhammar, a tiny public beach on the west coast. If it’s cold enough, we can skate on the frozen sea (not something I ever imagined doing growing up in the East Midlands). There will be other families there skating or walking their dogs, and the water is shallow so perfect for low-risk fun. The beach is raw and natural – no gift shops or toilets – but the views are spectacular. After skating we’ll fit in a walk along the pinkish granite rocks, a picnic of leftovers and hot chocolate, and a 3pm sunset over the archipelago. Then we head home to build up the fire again, nurse our bruises, and sleep off the festive food.
Will Dean is author of Red Snow, published by Oneworld on 10 January
Fermented skate, Iceland
My first encounter with Icelandic Christmas traditions was at a farm I was staying at in northern Iceland some years ago. Arriving on 23 December – St Thorlak’s Day, a day celebrating the patron saint of Iceland and the last day before Christmas – I was presented with a feast of putrid skate and potatoes, a traditional meal consumed on that day. But, with the help of some ice-cold Brennivín (Icelandic schnapps), I managed to finish the plate of gelatinous fish and felt like I’d passed a significant cultural challenge. Over the years I’ve even come to enjoy it. Despite the strong smell of ammonia, a result of the fermenting process, the delicacy is popular, and restaurants where it’s served get booked up quickly. As far as the chefs are concerned, the stronger the stench the better: if it makes you cry and clears your sinuses, you know it’s good. Fortunately, it doesn’t taste as bad as it smells.
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| Christmas Garden is a shop that sells typical Icelandic Christmas items and foods, is located 10 km from Akureyri in the north of Islanda. |
Lisa Shannen
Christmas carp and churches, Czech Republic
For a nation that is probably the most atheist in Europe, the Czechs do love a good Christmas crib. Before the Christmas carp is scoffed, many locals – myself now included – pop into their local church to gawp at the year’s ffering. These nativity scenes – betlémy – have been big business in Czechia ever since Holy Roman Emperor Josef II banned them in 1782, prompting the poor to make rebel papeer maché versions in protest. In Prague, there are good ones at the Church of St Ludmila and Church of St Antonin, but for a mega-nativity-scene fix, the Church of Our Lady of the Snows has its own mechanical nativity, and houses 200 others, made from cardboard, metal and, er, gingerbread. The church is on Jungmannovo náměsti 18 and open 10am-4pm on on 24 Dec (10am-6pm other days).
Mark Pickering
Baked eel, Naples
As I wandered home late at night on 23 December before my first Christmas in Naples several years ago, it looked like all hell had broken loose in the narrow streets of La Pignasecca market. At every corner, fishmongers in blood-splattered aprons, with knives in hand, were wrestling with live eels on chopping boards. Frenziedly working against the clock, they were preparing enough of this Christmas Eve treat, known as capitone, for every family in the neighbourhood to enjoy the next day. At La Pescheria Azzurra, my favoured fish stall, matriarch Carmela, who overseas more than 20 workers, saw me as I looked on aghast. “Will you be taking your capitone home dead or alive?” she asked. If I had replied “alive”, I would have had to take my eel and keep it in the bath before knocking it on the head with a hammer just before cooking time on Christmas Eve. Neapolitans believe the eel is the embodiment of Satan, so although the cheap and filling capitone is less than appetising, eating it on Christmas Eve has remained symbolic, akin to devouring all evil itself. But there’s no need to kill the fish yourself: Carmela will pluck one straight from a vat behind her stall, to be chopped into small chunks, deep-fried and served on plastic plates (from €10).
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| Traditional neapolitan soup of meat and vegetables called 'minestra maritata' served for Christmas day. Naples, Italy. |
Sophia Seymour
Tree-hunting in Norway
Many Norwegian families hunt for their perfect Christmas tree in their own forest. Last year the task was given to me. I have six siblings, who all have with partners and kids, and we celebrate Christmas Eve at my mother’s in Naustdal, a picturesque fjord village. My thick outfit would have made Arctic expeditioners jealous. My saw and axe would have scared polar bears, had there been any; they live further north. I was followed into the snowy woods by a curious cat and two nephews. Sverre wanted spruce; Miguel preferred pine. We settled on a juniper. Lights, Norwegian flags and ornaments made by nieces made it look … decent. The kids were more interested in the parcels underneath anyway, while the adults indulged in cloudberry cream.
Gunnar GarforsFisherman’s soup in Budapest
Bowls of bright red halászlé typically kick off Christmas Eve feast (a bigger occasion than Christmas Day) in Hungary. This spicy “fisherman’s soup”, teeming with chunks of freshwater fish and enlivened by hot paprika, was traditionally prepared in cauldrons over fires by men who fished in the Danube and Tisza rivers. Each recipe is different: some call for noodles, others for dollops of cooling sour cream. Stradivari Restaurant, in the Aria Hotel Budapest (Hercegprímás u. 5), for instance, offers a version for Christmas Eve lunch with catfish, trout, and caviar (around £6.50). Other classic holiday dishes include breaded carp fillet, stuffed cabbage rolls and the poppy seed-laden puddings mákos guba and beigli. The latter are cylinders of yeast-raised dough often given as gifts at Christmas. Snag one at any cukrászda (confectioner’s) or supermarket for a sweet immersion into Hungarian ritual.
