Stir Up Sunday

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It’s been a good day. As you all of course know, it’s Stir Up Sunday, the day when all good God-fearing women of the parish knelt in church, and on hearing the collect for the day ‘Stir up Oh Lord the hearts of Thy faithful people…..’, sprang up crying ‘Mercy me! Stir up! I must go and stir up my Christmas pudding!’

Despite my lack of God-fearing, I’ve always liked observing old traditions, and when some French friends expressed an interest in being involved in making both Christmas pudding and mincemeat, they decided we could make a day of it. We could take everything up to their house, have lunch together, and then get stuck in.

Ingredients were a bit of a challenge. I’d had the foresight to bring vegetarian suet from England, but never imagined currants would be so hard to find. They’re called ‘raisins de Corinthe‘ here, and we suddenly had a light-bulb moment - Corinthe - currants - oh of COURSE. Eventually we DID find them, on Lavelanet market, costing as much as hard-to-find ingredients normally cost: a lot.

Francis and Martine have a very large family and everyone mucks in. ‘Just make the mayonnaise, would you?‘ was the first request to me. So shaming to admit that it’s something that I’ve never managed well. I always end up screaming and shouting and throwing bowls of congealed egg yolk and oil away in vast quantities. So the resident 18 year old, Elea, calmly knocked up a large bowlful with no fuss at all.

In the end, 13 of us sat down to lunch. It was just the sort of occasion you imagine: very convivial and noisy, with different dishes being passed up and down the table for everyone to enjoy.

Eventually a group of us settled down to make mincemeat. Some weighed, others chopped, even the five year old squeezed lemons. Everyone had to learn to say the ingredients in English, and we ended up with a fine spicy bowl off Christmassy fruits ready to be potted up during the week. Then it was the turn of the Christmas pudding. We weighed and chopped all over again, but the part everyone took most seriously was giving the mixture an energetic stir while making a wish. Francis and Malcolm covered and tied up the puddings, and now they’re boiling away in a series of pans for the next few hours before being put away.

After all that activity, it was time for more food, and soon, a huge pile of pancakes appeared for the workers - and those who hadn’t worked so hard. We ate them as the sun set over the hills beyond their house. Not a bad way to spend a late November Sunday.

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