My childhood was set in a small English town, where the winter holidays were full of traditions, not least of which were those played out around the table. A large roast turkey, with all the trimmings, was always the centre of our Christmas lunch.

But then I fell in love and created a family of my own. And together with my husband and young son I moved away – first to the ruggedness of Cornwall, in the south-west of the United Kingdom, and then across Europe to my soul’s home, Italy.

Having festivities as Mum, Dad and little one was magical. My values had changed a lot and being able to express them and spend free time with the two people I loved most in the world was wonderful. I wanted to extend that beauty to our food;  to give what we ate over the holidays that honour I remembered from my youth – celebration, specialness and sparkle –  and yet to imbibe it with our own lifestyle choices.

My first thought was to cook an ethically-raised animal. I looked up organic turkeys, my eyes watering when I saw the prices, realising that choosing this would mean all of our festive funds being spent on the dinner table.

I started to wonder what else I could do. How could I make something at least as special as what I remembered from my childhood but do it in a way that expressed the creativity, ethics and fun of who we were as a family?

It was in this space that our own family festive tradition was born: Every Christmas day, for lunch, we have something we’ve never eaten before.

The process is a joy. As the days start to shorten, my ears prick up whenever I come across a dish that I’ve not made before. I dip into books and follow links, getting fired up about possibilities. Some years, I know what I want to do from mid-October and I’m sharing the idea with my 7 year-old son-come-sous-chef mid October. Sometimes, I just can’t make my mind up. December closes in and I’m starting to worry – suddenly, an unfamiliar yet amazing dish will appear in my world and I know it’s the one!

Because I love fermenting, so many of the things that catch my eye include the manipulation of microbes. Last year I fermented a whole head of cabbage and used the individual leaves to wrap around a local meat-based stuffing. I baked the rolls with more shredded fermented cabbage in the oven and served them on broth-cooked sorghum.

The year before, I was set on creating a borscht and most of Christmas morning was spent in a carol-fuelled haze of purple beet kvass! This year, I’ve gone crazy over fermented sweet potato and am hoping to culture it with the addition of warming spices and place the result atop a casserole of local mutton. I’m also working on 2-month-long fermented gingerbread cookies and planning to spice up my home-made ancient rye ale with apples and cloves.

Our festive meal has become even more precious knowing we’re tasting something for the first time, something that I imagined, worked on and created especially to honour and celebrate our time together. Taking my seat at the dinner table this year, I know I’ll treasure each bite, each reaction my husband gives and the knowledge that just as my parents did for me, I’m creating memories that my son will take with him for the rest of his life. And I have to say, I’m looking forward to the year when, hopefully, as a young man, he’ll take the reigns of our family tradition himself, and grace our table with a dish that is delightfully new to me!

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