For me, Christmas means food.
And family.
And parties.
And presents.
But one of the main things I think about when I think of this lovely time of year is the feasts, feasts, feasts, feasts.
No-matter that by the time Christmas morning rolls around, I can barely fit into all the clothes that looked so lovely when I tried them on a mere three weeks ago. The food is pretty much worth risking that humiliating moment which, like Santa, somehow always manages to arrive.
