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340 lines
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foodanddrink
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recipes
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8171172
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# Christmas Lunch with Josceline Dimbleby
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## After a peripatetic childhood, the author Josceline Dimbleby wanted
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nothing more than to settle down and establish a few festive traditions. Her
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Christmas lunch menu draws on flavours ranging from Syrian spice to her
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granny's rum butter. Photographs by Lisa Linder
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![The round Christmas pudding that was at the centre of two spectacular
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mishaps. Styling by Rachel Jukes][1]
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Image 1 of 2
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The round Christmas pudding that was at the centre of two spectacular mishaps.
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Styling by Rachel Jukes Photo: LISA LINDER
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![Tangy orange-pastry mince pies are an essential part of Josceline Dimbleby's
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Christmas][2]
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Image 1 of 2
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Tangy orange-pastry mince pies are an essential part of Josceline Dimbleby's
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Christmas Photo: LISA LINDER
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[<][3] [>][3]
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* [![][4]][5]
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Article
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[Indulgent mince pies with orange pastry recipe][5]
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* [![][6]][7]
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Article
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[Glazed goose with spiced fruity stuffing and fruit juice gravy recipe][7]
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* [![][8]][9]
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Article
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[Dickensian plum pudding recipe][9]
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* [![][10]][11]
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Article
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[Poached brussels sprouts on a parsnip bed with cardamom and coriander
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recipe][11]
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* [![][12]][13]
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Article
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[Potatoes roasted in goose fat recipe][13]
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[1][3] [2][3]
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By Josceline Dimbleby 12:10PM GMT 01 Dec 2010
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[Comments][14]
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I have spent Christmas in some unlikely places - one year I sat cross-legged
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in a desert beneath an extinct volcano and tucked into a scrawny chicken,
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followed by guavas. Throughout my childhood my mother and diplomat stepfather
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lived abroad, moving from one posting to another every three years.
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One of my early memories is of the first Christmas in Syria, where my new
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book, Orchards in the Oasis, begins; I was seven years old. A turkey strutted
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about through the lovely garden of our Arab-style house in Damascus for weeks
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before Christmas, getting fat, pecking off the heads of damask roses and
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drinking from the irrigation streams that criss-crossed the garden and kept it
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fresh and green in the dry climate. Our Armenian cook was called Joseph, a
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name that seemed to me just right in what I was told was 'the holy land',
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where the Bible stories I loved had taken place. He cooked the turkey with a
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stuffing made with apricots he dried on the roof, enhanced by spices from the
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labyrinth of the al-Hamidiyeh souk, and made me realise for the first time how
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exciting food could be - manna from heaven.
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Two years later, after two disastrous governesses, I was sent to school in
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England. From then my Christmases could only occasionally be with my mother,
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as long-distance travel was not as common as it is now. But in London my
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grandmother took over her parental role with total devotion, giving me a
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feeling of security as I sat in the comfort of her kitchen and continued to
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discover the joys of good food. A dish I loved was her rice pudding made with
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brown rice and muscovado sugar; it wasn't stodgy, more of a creamy caramel
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sauce holding nutty bits of rice, with a wonderfully toffeeish skin.
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During my teenage years I sometimes spent Christmas with my father in
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Herefordshire after he remarried, or with various schoolfriends or even
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boyfriends, whose families treated me as part of theirs.
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For the first two or three years of our marriage, my now ex-husband David's
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mother, Dilys, still 'did' the family Christmas, as her three other children
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were not yet married. Her Christmases were a tour de force of organisation, an
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example of her energy and unconditional love for her large family. Elaborate
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menus for goose on Christmas Eve and turkey on Christmas Day were stuck up on
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the wall, and on Boxing Day, when aunts, uncles, grandmothers and cousins
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turned up, we ate the cold goose and turkey, baked potatoes and all sorts of
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salads.
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## Related Articles
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* [The best chocolates for Christmas][15]
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29 Nov 2010
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* [Food Notebook: Smoked salmon][16]
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05 Nov 2010
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* [Food Notebook: British cheese][17]
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19 Nov 2010
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* [The Ultimate Wine Guide][18]
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27 Nov 2010
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My mother-in-law outshone us all by wanting to stay up and continue
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celebrating, playing games until the early hours of the morning. I loved
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becoming part of a family for whom Christmas meant a format of personal
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traditions, favourite seasonal dishes and games that had been repeated
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annually for as long as they could remember.
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After the birth of our first child, Liza, in 1968, and with Dilys as a role
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model, I was keen to start becoming the hub of my own family's Christmas and
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to create our own reassuring traditions. Each year I make the orange-pastry
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mince pies that have lived on for nearly 35 years; I put the recipe for these
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in my first cookery book for Sainsbury's, Cooking for Christmas, and to this
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day people tell me that they are making them again, using a stained and dog-
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eared copy of that small book.
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My recipe-writing started almost by mistake. In January 1967, soon after
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leaving the Guildhall School of Music where I studied singing, I married,
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started having babies and immersed myself in the domestic life I had dreamt of
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after my peripatetic childhood. Not having learnt to cook, except by watching
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and tasting a wide variety of cuisines over the years, I discovered that with
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imagination my experiences meant that I could create dishes, inspired by far-
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flung recipes and flavourings.
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My first cookery book, A Taste of Dreams, was published in 1976. But when it
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came to family Christmas in England I believed that traditional dishes should
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be stuck to, although I could never resist doing them in my personal style. I
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still don't think that Christmas food should be 'modern', but I might enliven
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the richness of the food with varying spices and the freshness of garlic and
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ginger, cook and serve the sprouts in a slightly different way, roast the
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potatoes unpeeled with olive oil and herbs, switch between a flavourful bronze
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turkey and goose, change the ingredients for the stuffing, mix apple and lemon
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into the mincemeat, add new flavours and textures to the gravy - and more. My
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well-loved round Christmas pudding is never quite the same as the year before.
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I am often asked what culinary disasters I have had, and in fact it was the
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round Christmas pudding that was at the centre of two spectacular mishaps. I
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first adapted the pudding in 1978 from a Victorian recipe. It is succulent,
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aromatic and sweetened only by the fruit, predominantly dark squidgy prunes
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with fresh orange peel, crystallised ginger and walnuts. People often eat two
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helpings even though they are so full of rich food at that point.
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The first disaster was in 1983: after the room had been darkened, my brother
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Ben poured and lit the brandy around the pudding, which I held on a beautiful
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Wedgwood plate that had belonged to my grandmother. Beaming with pleasure, I
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approached my expectant family sitting around the table. There was a loud bang
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and the flaming pudding exploded into hundreds of pieces, most of which hit
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the ceiling and stayed there. In shock I dropped the Wedgwood plate on the
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floor, where it smashed. I ought to have known not to let my pyromaniac
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brother light the pudding; earlier he had secretly inserted a small firework
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into it that was ignited by the flaming brandy and caused the explosion.
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The following year Ben was not allowed anywhere near the pudding; I asked my
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daughter's godfather to light the brandy while my 14-year-old son, Henry, held
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the pudding. The godfather enthusiastically poured on almost a bottle of
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brandy and flames crept all the way up Henry's arm, at which point he dropped
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the pudding. At least that year we were able to retrieve edible pieces. Henry
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was very brave about his burnt arm.
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While our family was young everyone contributed in their own way to Christmas.
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Liza already showed signs of the artist and academic she was to become,
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creating beautiful and witty illustrated calendars as presents and writing
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Christmas stories. Henry (who co-founded and runs the natural fast-food
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restaurant chain Leon) was mostly interested in the food, and acted as a sort
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of sous-chef to me and a sous-host to David, and our younger daughter, Kate,
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who is now a jazz singer, was always ready to entertain us. David carved the
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turkey, dealt with the drink and of course was the perfect anchorman for the
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acting, drawing and writing games we played. The extended families were keen
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thespians and almost every year there was a Christmas or New Year production
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that included siblings, uncles, aunts and cousins.
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The moment I enjoyed most was on Christmas morning; you don't have to believe
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in Father Christmas to be excited by stockings, and until they were adult-
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sized students our children brought their lumpy stockings to our bed, where
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David and I would also find one we had secretly filled for each other. We
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opened them all together, more slowly as the children got older, relishing
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each object that we pulled out, making a grating sound against the nylon. I
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think the day I stopped having a stocking myself, which was not until my
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'children' were more than adult, living with partners of their own, and I was
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more than middle-aged, was the first time I felt there was nothing of the
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child left in me at Christmas.
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But I can feel a hint of childish excitement returning now that my oldest
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grandchild, Amy, is five and so fervently believes in magic and the visit that
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Father Christmas will make to her bedside soon. She asks me over and over
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again how long it will be until Christmas Eve. She reminds me of her mother,
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Kate, one Christmas in Devon long ago, when she insisted, against all odds, on
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continuing to believe in Father Christmas and the magic surrounding him.
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It was Christmas Eve, and eight-year-old Kate was so excited she couldn't go
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to sleep; we could hear her talking in the room all three children shared. My
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brother Ben volunteered to stay up and deliver the stockings and at 2am, 6ft
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5in and rake thin, dressed in David's bright-red sailing oilskins, with a
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white cloth round his chin as a beard, he crept into the children's bedroom
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holding the heavy stockings. The silence was broken by the loud crackling the
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oilskins made as Ben walked. Liza and Henry pretended to be asleep, but Ben
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could see Kate's eyes shining in the dark. As he left he heard her say,
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'Henry, wake up, it's true, I've see him.' A few days later she told a friend
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that she had seen the real Father Christmas and he was thin, not fat.
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This year, for my six grandchildren, I have introduced what I hope will become
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another tradition, the Christmas tree elf; at night he guards the decorations
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and presents while everyone is asleep, during the day he rests deep within the
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branches of the tree. If you look very carefully you just might catch a
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glimpse of him.
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* 'Orchards in the Oasis: Travels, Food and Memories' by Josceline Dimbleby
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(Quadrille Publishing) is available from Telegraph Books for £23 plus £1.25
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p&p (0844-871 1515; [books.telegraph.co.uk][19]).
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* 'Leon Book 2, Naturally Fast Food' by Henry Dimbleby (Octopus Publishing
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Group £20.00 9781840915563) is available for £18.00 plus £1.25 p&p (0844 871
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1515; [books.telegraph.co.uk][19])
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* Telegraph subscribers can enjoy an exclusive evening hosted by Josceline
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Dimbleby at Leon restaurant at Ludgate Circus, London, on March 21. For £45
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per person you will be served a sparkling cocktail on arrival, a three-course
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meal and half a bottle of wine. To book, call 020-7489 1580 and quote
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'Telegraph subscriber evening' and your Telegraph subscriber number. Terms and
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conditions apply. For further details visit [telegraph.co.uk/subscribe][20]
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* Share: [Share][3] [ ][22] [ ][23]
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[Tweet][24]
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http://www.telegraph.co.uk/foodanddrink/recipes/8171172/Christmas-Lunch-with-
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Josceline-Dimbleby.html
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Telegraph
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## [Recipes][25]
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* ### [Lifestyle »][26]
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* ### [Food and Drink »][27]
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* ### [Christmas »][28]
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* ### [Seasonal Food and Drink »][29]
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In food-and-drink
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[![Cook along with Xanthe Clay as she prepares tasty meals in just five
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minutes][30] ][31]
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### [Fast and delicious recipes][31]
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[![telegraph wine club][32]][33]
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### [Reader Offers][33]
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[![Le Clos Domaine Sainte Eugnie 2009 IGP HauteriveFrance; Sainsbury?s Brut
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Ros Champagne NV France; Domaine Julien Sunier Beaujolais Villages 2008France
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][34] ][35]
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### [Best wine deals][35]
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### [Telegraph Wine Shop][37]
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Share:
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* Advertisement
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![][38]
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Please enable JavaScript to view the [comments powered by Disqus.][39] [blog
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[![wineshop_v2][41]][42]
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Wine Offers
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var puffs_8122053 = new Array();
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