By Christmas week. The Thunderbolt house is decorated — not fancy, just right. The tree is in the corner of the living room, same spot since 1987, with the ornaments the children made in school and the star Earl put on top every year until 2003, when his heart said no more ladders. Now I put the star up. It's crooked. I don't fix it. The crookedness is part of the tradition now.
Earl Jr. and Carolyn are bringing baby Amara from Atlanta. This will be her first Christmas, and also my first Christmas as a great-grandmother, and I have been cooking for three days straight because that is how I process joy — the same way I process grief. With the stove and the skillet and the hours.
The ham is glazed and ready to go in the oven Christmas morning. The pound cake is made. The sweet potato pie — two of them, because one is never enough — is cooling on the counter. The greens are washed and ready for the pot. The mac and cheese is assembled and will bake tomorrow. The cornbread is — well, the cornbread will be made fresh Christmas morning because day-old cornbread is a sin and I will not commit it.
Patricia and Wayne are driving up from Jacksonville with Brittany, Darnell, and Alexis. Denise is ten minutes away, already here spiritually if not physically. Kayla is bringing Devon, which makes this his first Henderson Christmas, a trial by fire and butter. Monique is bringing James Carter. My table is going to need an extension. Earl built one once — a plywood board that sits on sawhorses and gets covered with a tablecloth — and Denise's husband Robert set it up this morning. It's not elegant. It's necessary. And necessity is the mother of every Henderson dinner table.
I wrapped my hot sauce jars in red ribbon tonight and lined them up on the counter. Twelve jars, twelve people, twelve reminders that Dot Henderson loves you and wants your food to taste better. That's what hot sauce is, baby. It's a love letter with a kick.
Earl is watching Christmas movies in his recliner. He falls asleep during every one. He says he's "resting his eyes." He is sleeping. I let him sleep. Rest is a gift I can give him by not asking for anything, by handling the Christmas alone, by letting him save his breath for the days when breathing is hard. I do this quietly. I do everything quietly now. The volume of my love has turned down, but the frequency is constant.
Now go on and feed somebody.
When you’ve already got a pound cake resting on the counter and two sweet potato pies cooling by the window, you don’t need another heavy dessert — you need something light enough to earn its place at the table without crowding out everything else. That’s exactly why this Eggnog Mousse felt right this Christmas: it’s cool and easy and a little bit fancy, the kind of thing that says we’re celebrating something without asking you to stand over the stove another hour. Baby Amara’s first Christmas deserves every sweet thing this house can hold, and this mousse slips in beside the rest of it like it was always meant to be there.
Eggnog Mousse
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 2 hrs 15 min (includes chilling) | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 2 cups eggnog (store-bought or homemade)
- 1 package (3.4 oz) instant vanilla pudding mix
- 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg, plus more for garnish
- 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
- 2 cups heavy whipping cream, cold
- 2 tablespoons powdered sugar
- 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Instructions
- Make the eggnog base. In a large bowl, whisk together the eggnog, instant vanilla pudding mix, nutmeg, and cinnamon until smooth and slightly thickened, about 2 minutes. Let the mixture stand for 5 minutes so the pudding sets up.
- Whip the cream. In a separate chilled bowl, beat the cold heavy whipping cream with the powdered sugar and vanilla extract using a hand mixer or stand mixer on medium-high speed until stiff peaks form, about 3—4 minutes. Do not overbeat.
- Fold together. Using a rubber spatula, gently fold the whipped cream into the eggnog mixture in two additions, working in slow, wide strokes to keep the mousse light and airy. Stop folding as soon as the mixture is just combined — a few streaks are fine.
- Portion and chill. Spoon the mousse evenly into 8 individual serving cups, ramekins, or a large trifle dish. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 2 hours, or overnight if making ahead.
- Garnish and serve. Just before serving, dust the tops lightly with additional ground nutmeg. For a festive touch, add a small sprig of fresh mint or a light dusting of cinnamon sugar.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 275 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 21g | Carbs: 19g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 205mg