Scrooging Christmas

Bonus Epilogue

Bonus Recipe: 

Natalie’s Gingerbread Pancakes (Merry Christmas!)

Dry Ingredients:

1 cup All Purpose Flour

2 Tbsp Light Brown Sugar

2 Tbsp Sugar

1 Tsp Cinnamon (make that 2 Tsp)

1/4 Tsp Ginger

 1/4 Tsp Allspice (or not)

1/4 Tsp Nutmeg

1/4 Tsp Ground Cloves

1 Tsp Aluminum Free Baking Powder

1 Tsp Baking Soda

Smidgen of Salt

Wet Ingredients:

1 Cup of Buttermilk (substitute with powdered buttermilk if stuck in an isolated cabin)

1 Large Egg (substitute with powdered egg if stuck in an isolated cabin)

3 Tbsp of Honey or Maple Syrup or Light Molasses (cook’s choice)

1 Tbsp Vegetable Oil (or melted butter, butter is good)

1 Tsp Vanilla Extract

(If the batter is too thick add more buttermilk a Tbsp at a time, if it’s too wet, add more flour)

Directions:

1. Preheat cast iron griddle over medium low heat and coat in cooking spray or melted butter.
2. In Large Bowl mix together Dry Ingredients.
3. In Medium Bowl mix thoroughly Wet Ingredients.
4. Pour Wet Ingredients over Dry Ingredients and stir until just combined (lumps are a-okay, overmixing is not).
5. Drop 1/4 Cup of batter on heated, greased skillet, cook for 3 minutes (check underside to prevent burning) and then flip with spatula. Cook for 3 minutes more. Check that pancake is done and then—
6. Eat it! Preferably with lots of local Romeo, New York Maple Syrup on top. 
7. Repeat process, remember to coat skillet in oil or butter to prevent sticking.

Note: Gabe likes these best with Boden’s maple syrup sausage links and coffee. 

Bonus Epilogue:

Gabe

Christmas Eve

7 Years Later…

Gingerbread and cinnamon. Molasses and icing. Hot chocolate and peppermint. The cabin kitchen is full of the smells of Christmas. The warm yellow kitchen light falls over the snug space, hugging us in the warmth of the holiday, while outside snowflakes fall and stars twinkle in the night sky. 

The old counters are covered in plates of gingerbread cookies, molasses cookies, hot chocolate and peppermint cakes, peanut butter cookies with chocolate kisses—all the treats we’ll be sharing tomorrow when the rest of our family arrives. 

On the kitchen table, there are the last presents to wrap, surrounded by candy cane wrapping paper, tape and tangled ribbons and bright red bows. There’s the big wheeled dump truck Chris dreamed of and the bicycle that Beth wrote Santa for, promising him she was ready to ride without training wheels. 

In the living room, our balsam fir cradles dreams, wishes, and hopes in its boughs. The soft sound of “Jingle Bells” plays over the stereo, quiet enough not to wake the kids, but loud enough to have Natalie swaying her hips and humming as we wash the dishes together.

The clink and clatter of mixing bowls and spoons swirls as she scrubs. I rinse a bowl and set it on the drying rack. The soap bubbles glint and pop. We lost charades again…seven years running. I’m not sure why, but Natalie keeps asking to be on my team. 

Although, maybe I do know why. 

She glances over at me and sends me a smile, her eyes glowing with a familiar light. 

I grin down at her and pull my hands out of the rinse water, dropping a cupcake pan to the drying rack. 

“Did you notice,” she asks, nodding at the last remaining bowl to be washed, “there’s a whole lot of icing left in there?” 

I glance at the bowl, the icing’s sugary peaks swirl and glisten. It’s delicious. I know because I taste tested quite a bit of it as we all decorated our gingerbread men today.

“I did happen to notice,” I say solemnly, drying my hands on the Santa Clause kitchen towel hanging from the cupboard. “It would be a shame to waste it.” 

“Wouldn’t it?” She pulls the drain on the sink, letting the water and the soap bubbles spin down the drain. 

A few years ago, after Beth was born, we put an addition on the back of the cabin, adding bedrooms to make room for our rapidly growing family, so that everyone—our kids, Lee’s family, my cousin’s family, our friends and family—everyone and anyone who wants to can spend Christmas in Romeo. 

Luckily, that also means that Natalie and I can take our bowl of icing and—

“Merry Christmas,” Natalie says, dragging her finger through the sugary icing and then putting it into her mouth. She smiles at me as she pulls her finger from her mouth with a pop. 

I’ve forgotten what I was thinking. In fact, I’ve forgotten everything but lifting Natalie onto the countertop, stripping off the red velvet dress she’s wearing, and tasting the sugar of the icing coating her mouth. 

“Is this my present?” I ask, knowing I’ll be exceedingly happy if this is my present. 

“So…you like the Christmas presents I give you?” Natalie smiles at me, grabs the icing bowl and walks toward the kitchen door, glancing over her shoulder.

I’m nearly struck down by the moment, by how lucky I am. 

“You know I do,” I say.

Miss Erma told Natalie her soul mate would love her Christmas presents. I love every one of them. The Christmas Natalie said she’d be my wife. The Christmas we found Lee. The Christmas we learned that we were going to have a baby. The Christmas we bought our home. The Christmas Natalie and the kids picked out our Dachshund Louis. All the Christmases. All the gifts. 

I glance at the kitchen table, at the last of the presents to be wrapped. I’ll come back for them, later tonight, so that in the morning when the early light shines through the frost on the windows, and all the kids tumble into the living room, their faces will light with the magic they find.      

Stockings. Lights. A glowing tree. A crackling fire in the fireplace. Snow outside. Warmth inside. Presents under the tree. Family and love. A cabin filled with happiness and laughter. Christmastime.  

I flip off the lights. Turn off the stereo in the living room, unplug the Christmas tree, and follow Natalie down the hallway to our room, decorated in green and red, and rustic wooden furniture. 

I nudge the bedroom door shut, press Natalie against the wall, and kiss the sweetness of her. It’s a cold December night, Christmas is in the air, and I’ve never been happier. 

“Merry Christmas,” I say, kissing my Christmas-loving wife. 

“Merry Christmas,” she says, then she proceeds to make use of the icing in many creative, delicious ways that I will fantasize about for many years to come. 

After we wrap the presents, and make sure the cabin is ready for morning, we slip into bed, and I hold Natalie in my arms, and send out thanks that all my Christmas wishes (even the ones I never knew I had) came true.