A Christmas Almond

On December 24, 2013, while people the world over were gathering for Christmas Eve mass, opening gifts, singing Christmas carols, or snuggling under a blanket with a mug of warm cocoa and a movie, my family was rolling up our shirtsleeves, doing some light stretching, and putting on our best game faces to intimidate the opposition. In short, we were gearing up for a friendly round of Christmas competitive eating.

This game is not what it sounds like, however it's also not for the faint-of-heart. The tradition originates with my brother-in-law's Danish ancestors and has carried on since he and my sister got married. It involves a large bowl of dense rice pudding, only lightly sweetened and teeming with blanched, slivered almonds. Hidden in the sticky white paste are two whole almonds, also bleached.

The object: Be the first to find the hidden almonds. Prizes await the victors, who may have to eat multiple helpings before they can claim their winnings.

Legend has it that, in Christmases past, uber-competitive extended family members who don't even like rice pudding have dug into their bowls with fervor, masticating spoonful after creamy, crunchy spoonful of the stuff just to be crowned champion. One can only imagine the bellyaches that must ensue. Hours after the dessert has been eaten, while the children slumber peacefully with visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads, these rice pudding Vikings clutch their hard-won prizes to their chests and moan softly while visions of a different sort swirl in their heads, visions that involve porcelain, two-ply quilted paper, and a clean colon.

The scene at my sister's house this Christmas Eve was more Pee Wee T-ball than Monday Night Football. We were stuffed from the excellent feast my sister and mom had prepared and some of us were looking forward to the other dessert--my Grandma W's famous Raspberry Dessert (making it uses every baking dish and pan in your kitchen but it's SO worth the mess)--even more than the pudding prizes.  Nevertheless, we tucked in with gusto, stealthily probing each mouthful with our tongues to discover the elusive whole almond.

I found the first one as I scooped up my second helping of pudding (really more of a well-placed spoonful) from the serving bowl. I quickly popped it out of my mouth and held it up triumphantly for all to see.

Victory!

My prize was a bag of Lindt chocolate truffles, which I graciously shared with the rest of the family.  It was Christmas, after all.

My mom found the second almond, and so great was her thrill and astonishment that she crunched it into three pieces, of which she swallowed two before she realized what she was doing. I don't remember what her prize was but I'm sure it was a fabulous confection that she shared with everyone (following my example, of course).

Mom holding my almond, having bitten hers in three in the excitement

With the almonds found and the prizes distributed, we were free to enjoy the rest of our evening of caroling, story-telling, and present-opening. And I'm happy to report that we all slept peacefully that night, with visions of sugar plums (not porcelain) dancing in our heads.