Breaking tradition

Ah, the holidays, the most wonderful time of the year. The air is crisp, holiday decor is splayed about, and the mall has officially turned into the city zoo. This is by far my favorite time of the year. I am a complete sucker for the holidays. Starting around mid November, I morph into a ridiculously giddy, overly generous freak that can't get enough holiday music, watches overly sappy Christmas specials that would normally illicit my most exaggerated eye-rolls, bakes like Betty Crocker has possessed my soul, and can think of nothing more exciting than spending evenings searching for elaborate Christmas displays to enjoy.

My hubby falls on the opposite end of the spectrum.  His holiday anticipation is fueled less by the excitement of holiday feasts, decorations, and presents, and more by the onset of hunting season. Nothing makes him happier than the idea of sitting in a wooden box in frigid temperatures in hopes of bringing home his prized 8 point and an ice chest full of venison roasts. I'm pretty sure that festive lights and Christmas carols excite him about as much as hunting excites me (which, for clarification, is about as exciting as gouging my eyes out with a blunt tip of a pencil,) but most of the time, he does entertain my antics.

So, since we celebrated an early Thanksgiving with our family this year, allowing me my fill of turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes, and other fat-filled side dishes that make my mouth water in pleasure and my arteries beg for mercy, I agreed when my hubby suggested that we enjoy a feast of Mexican food for Thanksgiving, because - surprise, surprise - he hates turkey and stuffing!
 

Chili rellenos - because clearly I missed the memo that Thanksgiving is a Mexican holiday.

Replacing my roasted turkey and pumpkin pie with chili rellenos, black bean chili and smores was just the first of many traditions to be broken this holiday season. My traditional Thanksgiving night Chrstimas tree decorating was foiled this year since my pre-lit tree has apparently become handicapped. Since it looked completely ridiculous to leave a partially lit, partially dark tree standing in my living room, we decided to just take the tree down and buy a new one after Christmas. Bummer (to me anyway, my hubby seems more than a little bit tickled.) The next day, I found that my black Friday shopping, which is normally a cherished day-long race to get the best deals possible (and one that my hubby thinks should be avoided like the plague,) just felt depressing when I was the only member of my team fighting the crowd, so I gave up and headed home. A visit to the Holiday cactus botanical gardens at Ethel M Chocolate factory was a festive and fun replacement for NOLA's "Celebration in the Oaks," and my hubby even happily accompanied me to this event (it didn't hurt that there was candy involved.) But when I couldn't top off my evening with beignets and cafe au lait, it just felt incomplete.

So, after a week of breaking traditions, I've realized something quite striking. The saying is true "There's no place like home for the holidays." It's obvious that everyone celebrates the holidays a bit different, but to me, NOLA will always do it best. So, to my friends and family at home, may your turducken be hot, and your seafood fresh (and oil-free!) May your eggnog be spiked and your cajun kringles be warm. And, should you stop by Cafe du Monde to indulge in those little pillows of powdered sugar covered goodness that we call beignets, make sure to have an extra for me!