Holiday dinner (or, the week Lisa lost her mind)

So. Drew and I had such fun and were so successful last year making a New Year's dinner featuring goose for PopPop and Mammaw that we decided to do another goose dinner this year. This time, we hosted a holiday dinner for our close friends -- Charon and her son Cameron; Jeff, Crystal and their 9-month-old girl, Julia, and Julie, a colleague of mine at The Post.

I decided that I was going to send everyone home at the end with a batch of homemade cookies, so...I spent this entire week baking cookies (and finishing the edits on one Sunday magazine story and starting the reporting on another). I had wanted to make 7 kinds of cookies but only ended up having time for 5: chocolate/mint rounds, tangerine-flavored cookies; cherry cookies dipped in white chocolate; lemon star cookies with lemon cream filling; and salted caramel chocolate cookies which were OUT OF THIS WORLD -- I just finished making them this morning. So, basically, the kitchen has been a crowded mess this week as I made cookies before heading to work every day. The project turned into making cookies for our neighbors, Rachel's friends' moms, her teachers, etc. And leaving some for our friend Rachel, who is staying with us while she visits the States in December/January from Nairobi.

Anyway...we had thought of taking Rachel to a "holiday camp" this morning so I could finish the cookies and start cleaning the house in peace, but she decided she didn't want to go at the last minute. I kept trying to persuade her to go, but then she said something that stopped my heart, "Mom, I don't get to spend that much time with you. Please, let me stay. I won't bother you; I'll read. If you need help, call me -- especially if you need help with the cookies."

Well, how could I resist an appeal like that? I was so touched that I told Drew, who was angry by that point that she had changed her mind, that I'd be responsible for whatever she did/didn't do. He went out to run errands, and she and I had a ball -- she actually helped me a great deal by drizzling white chocolate on the chocolate/mint rounds (they really needed something to perk them up) and just talking and hanging out together. As I was getting ready to go upstairs, I said to her: "Rachel. I really liked having you around today." And she answered: "I know, Mom. That's why I wanted to stay. I always have a good time when you're around."

Then a friend of hers, Kira, came over and the girls played upstairs (and in the study, and then we shooed them downstairs to watch a movie) while I showered, Drew prepared the goose, and then I did the first batch of latke mix and fixed the salad. People began arriving around 5:15. Drew built a fire, and it was so sweet to see Rachel lying on her stomach and reading in front of it while Cameron, who is 8, talked to her and Julia sat on her mom's lap next to them, and Rachel tried to teach Julia how to walk). The goose had been warming about 45 minutes by then, and I managed to get enough latkes on the griddle (frying them in duck fat, a brilliant suggestion by Drew), so that people actually got to have latkes and goose together. (And did I mention we had an unexpected guest -- a friend of Julie's, a clerk at a federal court who graduated from Stanford Law? -- so, Drew and I basically didn't sit down most of the meal).

But people seemed to have a great time talking together. Julia and her mom left early, as did Charon and Cameron -- by around 7:15 or so, and Julie, her friend Matt, and Jeff all stayed until after 9 to talk. By then Drew and I had eaten, and I had served dessert -- a pumpkin-cocoa cake with bittersweet chocolate glaze -- so we were all pretty relaxed. The evening could have gone on longer expect that it was really time to get Rachel down to bed and we still needed to light the Hanukkah candles and open gifts. I got Rachel to bed around 10, and Drew and I spent the next 90 minutes cleaning up, putting food away and polishing silver and crystal. We are both POOPED.

But it was so, so worth it. This is what the holiday season is all about, and these are the memories we're creating for Rachel -- and for us.