Eight Weeks of Christmas 2. Martinmas November 11th.
Martinmas and Armistice Day. Martinmas was considered the first day of Winter, and meteorologically “if the geese at Martin’s Day stand on ice, they will walk on mud at Christmas.” There is word of a Polar Vortex which is about to hit the East Coast of the US, and will affect Ireland next week, but though we lit a fire after lunch, here in Annecy it is not cold, just grey and dull with low wisps of cloud shrouding the mountains under a sullen sky. The entire village is quiet with not a single shop open except for the bakeries. They have a trickle of trade amongst people with big pots of yellow, orange, rust and wine chrysanthemums in the backs of their cars, people who will dine with family or friends and will also visit the graves of their loved ones, or memorials to the war dead. With a population of 39.6 million at the time, the French lost almost 1,800,000 people during the 4 years of World War 1 and 4, 266,000 were wounded.
St Martin of Tours (Hungary AD 316) is associated with generosity, military personnel, food and the weather. He is Patron Saint of beggars, vintners, wine makers, equestrians and horses, soldiers, tailors, geese, hotel and inn-kepers and reformed alcoholics. In Ireland (at least until recently) the fishing fleet of County Wexford did not put to sea on November 11th but in some countries, fish was traditionally eaten on that day and in Portugal, mussels. In Germany it is goose, the symbol of St Martin and in Britain and Ireland, pork. It is when the first of the newly-produced wine is ready for drinking and the end of the preparations for the winter larder, including the killing of hogs, hence “he will reach his Martinmas” or “everyone must die.”
We had a vegetarian Martinmas supper of risotto made with the last of the sorrel from the garden – the plants I brought from our garden in Cork a decade ago are pale green and quite tender, the locally bought French plants have tougher and darker leaves – and walnuts from the trees at the end of the driveway, which Himself dutifully collected every day for the past month and I dried outdoors on racks in the sun. (Then, if it has not already sloughed off, I peel away the blackened skin, crack the shells and freeze their meat; the perfect nuts I store whole in the dark, north facing garage. They easily last the year.)
I am still searching for my ‘definitive’ Christmas pudding recipe amongst the greats, stored in the garage mezzanine (in one of the 9 plastic boxes of Christmas decorations, household linens and intimate apparel, china, son globes, books, light garlands and 4 polar bears.) They are led by three generations of Shanagarry Allens – the doyenne Myrtle, her daughter-in-law Darina and her daughter-in-law Rachel – Delia Smith who might be annoying but is eminently sensible, and the original of the species, Mrs Beeton I haven’t found it yet, and think the ‘definitive’ may be hand written in a lined copy-book. The recipe uses butter and grated carrot instead of suet. I would love to use almond butter, but it is €10 a 450g. jar and doesn’t cook well (as we’ve found substituting it for dairy butter in oatmeal crumble topping and [Martin Dwyer’s recipe] granola.)
I did get wrapping five presents……but cursorily; later, under the Tannenbaum, they will be more embellished. At Christmas, more is more.