FOOD COLUMN | Don’t make me figgy pudding
All religious considerations aside, I’ve always thought of Christmas as being pretty foodtastic. Candy canes basically grow on trees; chestnuts roast over open fires (fire codes be damned); everything smells like gingerbread and tastes like rum. Even the Grinchiest little hearts can’t help but stir at the prospect of Christmas cookies — and joy to any world that gives us eggnog by the gallon. ’Tis the season to be jiggly, and like any self-respecting foodie, I’ve spent most of my Decembers gorging it up.
But this year I’ve been giving a little thought to the holiday eating frenzy....
