During the holiday season, working in a restaurant can feel electric. Dining rooms fill with people gathering to share meals and drinks, exchange gifts and laughter, and soak in the warmth of familiar traditions.
But for many people in the restaurant industry, the holidays also mean long hours—doubles, overtime, and time away from their own families—supporting everyone else’s celebrations during the busiest time of the year.
That’s why, at our house, we’ve started taking a different approach. Smaller gatherings. Lower expectations. Cooking with what we already have. Sometimes even asking friends to bring a dish and turning it into a potluck.
This past Sunday, we hosted a simple dinner for close friends. The menu was anything but traditional: chili-seasoned steak, broccoli tossed with chili crunch, homemade pizza with olives and pepperoni, and a salad built entirely from odds and ends. Half an apple from Meadowlark Farm, greens from the Old Town Farm & Art Market, a persimmon, cashew crumbs, honey, balsamic, and olive oil. Nothing fancy—just honest food. Our kids played in the other room while we sat at the table, talking and laughing.
That’s what I love most about the holidays. Food matters, but time matters more. For the past decade, we’ve made the 45-minute drive to Winfield to spend Christmas with my mother-in-law. This year, we’re hosting for the first time—and I’m learning to let go of the need to do it all. My mom is bringing her grandmother Gertrude’s cranberry-walnut banana salad, a dish that traces back to her family farm in Norwich, Kansas. My mother-in-law will make the mashed potatoes. I might attempt a beef Wellington again—or I’ll grill some steaks and enjoy watching the kids open presents.
It turns out the secret isn’t more food—it’s better flavor, shared with the people you love.
