My mother loved traditions, and she loved seasonal cooking. She loved celebrating “The First [insert food type] of [insert season]”. And she was strict about it! The first time I ate a hot cross bun before Good Friday I was in my twenties and I felt so rebellious!
When the cold weather starts, it’s time for The First Oxtail of Winter on my mother’s calendar. I eat oxtail all year round, I confess. But there is nothing nicer than a melting hot oxtail on a cold winter evening. And the smell that permeates the house makes me feel like Martha Stewart.
The First Oxtail of Winter was such a big deal on my mother and Janet’s calendars that often the two families would have to have it together. I remember one year when both Mom and Janet made an oxtail – and one was tough – but because they had…
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