i do not like christmas

I may as well don the hair shirt of Scrooge and The Grinch.

Because I can hear you sharpening the darts of your bon mots all the way to my patio.

It is not that I dislike Christmas; I just do not like it. There are a lot of theological and social reasons. And none of them would be interesting in the slightest to you.

But there is one aspect of Christmas that I enjoy every year. For some reason, people seem to be much more sociable this time of year. And it is always pleasant to join small groups of friends and acquaintances -- to hear their stories.

Then, there is the food. The art of socializing seems to revolve around good food. Or, at least, food. So, as a person who loves well-prepared food, I face this time of year with a bit of dread.

That dread can be summed up in one word. Turkey.

I am not certain why so many people think Christmas dinner is improved by making one of the drabbest-tasting meats the center of attention. Maybe it is its dramatic size. Something Freud would undoubtedly find amusing.

But a crown roast of lamb or a full prime rib roast -- even a bone-in ham -- would be as dramatic. Or the traditional European goose.

My family banished turkey from the holiday table (any holiday table) decades ago having concluded that no matter how it is prepared, it is always just a step away from being a Swanson TV dinner. It just takes more time to prepare.

So, I am a little surprised to see how ubiquitous it is. Even here. Northern tourists and expatriates will gather almost exclusively around the carcass of a recently-deceased fowl. And they will enjoy it.

Well, I guess they will. Otherwise, why would they flock to the various venues that continue this odd culinary tradition.

Or maybe they will be there for the same reason I will be. Not for the food, but to build relationships within the community. To show that we actually do have a better side to ourselves. That we can be the person we wish we could be all year long. And I suppose that is exactly the Christmas spirit we often find so difficult to describe.

In the interim, Christmas came early for me. The blessed DHL delivery man brought me a package from Amazon. Some gifts from me to me. Two DVDs (Mr. Turner and All About Eve) and three cookbooks to feed my foodie Jones (Pam Anderson's revised classic How to Cook without a Book, J. Kenji Lopez-Alt's food-as-science The Food Lab, and -- with a resounding recommendation from my friend Jennifer Rose -- Urvashi Pitre's Indian Instant Pot Cookbook).

To relieve my Christmas food angst, I decided to try Pitre's guidelines for chicken vindaloo. The Portuguese had a strong colonial influence on western India's cuisine. (We too often forget that it was not only Britain that ruled the Raj.) Since I will be in Goa in a couple of months, I thought I would whip up some Lisbon-inspired chicken.

God must have quick-started the cornucopia for me today. I managed to grab the last piece of ginger at the grocery.

But I was even luckier. I found fresh Brussels sprouts and a horseradish root. I will bake them with some garlic and stone-ground mustard. It will be a new experiment for me. I have tried something similar with potatoes for holiday meals. But this will be a new way to serve up one of my favorite vegetables.

I will then combine it all with a simple salad of thinly-sliced tomatoes, cucumbers, and red onion in rice vinegar with tarragon, basil, oregano, thyme, and black pepper.

I had considered a fusion touch of adding serrano peppers to the chicken vindaloo, but I wanted to keep the ingredients as Indian as possible. Now that I write that sentence, I realize how silly the notion is. Serrano peppers are not just Mexican, they are also part of Indian cuisine.

Instead, I remembered what Tarla Dalal once said. Spicing up Indian food can be done using fresh chiles, but the best method is to increase the amount of cayenne or rely on one of India's numerous chile powders.

And that is exactly what I am experimenting with at the moment. My version of chicken vindaloo is heavy on cayenne -- and one of my favorite chile powders. Bhut jolokia. Or ghost pepper as most of us know it. The same ingredient used by Indian police to disperse rioters.

The chicken is marinating. The Brussels sprouts are about to be slipped into the oven. And the tomato salad is awaiting in the refrigerator.

So, I hope those of you who find pleasure in turkey have a very nice meal. And even if you think of turkey as I do, that you will have plenty of company to amuse you and to whom you can tell fascinating lies.

I will undoubtedly say it again, but I wish each of you a blessed Christmas -- and may your new year be filled with joy and contentment that will carry tou through to another turkey dinner next year.

Salud!