Eggnog Latte — The Warm Cup That Belongs Beside Every December Tradition

December, and the Christmas preparations have the particular energy of a holiday that includes an engagement to celebrate — the engagement of James and Elise, the first engagement in this family in twenty-seven years (the last being Robert and mine in 1996, which was celebrated at this same table with this same china, the continuity of the table being the continuity of the family).

Carrie leaves for Emory in January — three weeks away. She is spending December in the kitchen with me, cooking every evening, writing in the Parsonage Kitchen journal, the journal that she will take back to Atlanta and that holds, in her handwriting, the recipes that will travel with her the way they traveled with me from Beaufort to Charleston: in the hands, in the journal, in the particular knowledge that cannot be googled or downloaded but that must be taught, person to person, generation to generation, stove to stove.

The fruitcake is curing. The stockings are hung — five on the mantle, including Joy's and Mama's (because removing Mama's stocking would be a concession I am still not willing to make, and the not-willing is the stubbornness, and the stubbornness is the love, and the love is the stocking on the mantle that holds nothing and says everything). The tree is up. The lights are lit. And the lit-ness is the argument against the darkness that has always been Christmas's purpose.

I made gingerbread — the December cake, the three-generation smell, the dark dense cake that fills the house with the parsonage. The gingerbread is the decoration I value most, because the decoration is the smell, and the smell is the memory, and the memory is Mama, and Mama is the gingerbread, and the gingerbread is the Christmas.

The gingerbread came out of the oven just as Carrie finished her entry in the Parsonage Kitchen journal, and we stood in the kitchen together in that particular December quiet — the house smelling of molasses and spice, the tree lights reflected in the window — and I made us each one of these. An eggnog latte is exactly the cup that belongs beside a cooling gingerbread, beside a mantle with five stockings, beside a December that holds more than usual: it is warm and a little indulgent and it tastes like the season is worth slowing down for, which it is.

Eggnog Latte

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 5 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 2

Ingredients

• 2 shots espresso (or 1/2 cup strong-brewed coffee)
• 1 cup eggnog (store-bought or homemade)
• 1/4 cup whole milk
• 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg, plus more for garnish
• 1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1 tablespoon sugar or maple syrup (optional, to taste)
• Whipped cream, for topping (optional)

Instructions

1. Brew the espresso. Prepare 2 shots of espresso using an espresso machine or a stovetop moka pot. Alternatively, brew a strong 1/2 cup of coffee. Set aside.
2. Warm the eggnog mixture. In a small saucepan over medium-low heat, combine the eggnog, whole milk, vanilla extract, nutmeg, and cinnamon. Heat gently, stirring frequently, until steaming but not boiling — about 3 to 4 minutes. Do not let it boil or the eggnog will curdle.
3. Sweeten if desired. Taste the warmed eggnog mixture and stir in sugar or maple syrup if you prefer a sweeter latte. Eggnog is already sweet, so start with just a teaspoon and adjust.
4. Froth the mixture. Use a handheld milk frother, an immersion blender, or a jar with a tight lid (shake vigorously) to froth the warm eggnog mixture until slightly foamy, about 20 to 30 seconds.
5. Assemble the lattes. Divide the espresso or strong coffee between two mugs. Pour the frothed eggnog mixture over the top, holding back the foam with a spoon and then spooning it on last.
6. Garnish and serve. Top with whipped cream if desired, and finish with a pinch of freshly grated nutmeg. Serve immediately while hot.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 180 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 21g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 95mg