Today, we have a yule story by miss Diaspore! She's the one who sent us the pulla recipe that was revealed earlier in this year's calendar. Some of you might have heard this in the Green Dragon as well. It's a story about some sort of yule food tragedy.
A Very Broccoli Christmas
Many years ago, a terrible tragedy almost destroyed Yule. It happened like this.
One November, Yule Father was in his toy workshop, loading a cart with finished toys, when he slipped and fell.
He laughed merrily, but his laughter turned to dismay when he realized that he could not get up. When he tried, shooting pains radiated from his back, and his legs simply refused to work.
Naturally, his helpers immediately called the healer, a tall, slender elf, who examined Yule Father closely.
“You’ve injured your back,” the elf solemnly pronounced. “You need complete bed rest for the next two months. And I strongly advise you to lose that belly. It throws you off balance, and that strains your back. Cut out the fats and sugars and eat lots of vegetables!”
Yule Father groaned. “What about all the Yule celebrations? This is the busiest time of the year for me!”
The stern elf frowned at Yule Father. “Others can do the work this one year. If you don’t follow my advice, you might never be able to walk again!”
Yule Father sighed. “Oh, very well. I know that Yule Mother has great wisdom, and she can do the work as well as I can.”
Yule Mother, who’d followed the healer into the workshop, shook her head decisively. “I’ll be much too busy taking care of you,” she said. “Helper Glimma is a capable hobbit. Let her take over.”
Glimma drew herself up to every inch of her two and a half feet. “I can do it,” she promised. “Yule will take place on schedule!”
So Yule Father and Yule Mother retreated to their warm cabin, and Glimma took charge.
“You heard what the healer said,” Glimma told the assembled Yule Helpers, a mixed crew of hobbits, men, women, and dwarves. “Fat and sugar are bad for you.
“Starting today, we’re all going on a strict diet. What’s more, we’ll make sure that the children of the world have only healthy foods to eat. No more Yule candies, cakes, biscuits, or pies. No more hot cocoa, mulled ale, or sweet spiced wine.
“This year,” she continued, “it’s vegetables all the way!”
At her command, the Yule Helpers disposed of all the sweet and rich food and drink. (Merrybelle, a wise and thrifty hobbit, secretly concealed all the discards in her huge hidden cellar.) (Naturally, all her cellars were hidden to guard against hobbit and dwarf raiding parties.)
Glumly, the Helpers began packaging broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, rutabagas, onions, and turnips to send to the children of Middle earth. (Merrybelle kindly added a few mushrooms for each hobbit family.)
The Helpers loved vegetables and ate them in abundance. However, they preferred to accompany their vegetables with meat pies in good flaky crusts, hearty bread, and a mug or three of cider, ale, or beer.
They loved their berry pies, biscuits, cocoa, and many other rich and sweet foods. After all, they reasoned, they worked hard and needed some good stout food to keep them going. Besides, they cherished their plump, well-rounded bodies.
It’s no wonder that Yule Town seethed with sputters, mutters, and murmurs of discontent. Nobody, though, dared to complain to Yule Father or Yule Mother. “They have enough to worry them,” Merrybelle told the other Helpers. “We can’t bother them with this.”
However, it soon became clear that something would have to be done. The hobbits grew pale and greenish on the all-vegetable diet. Men and women grew cranky. The dwarves began to look bony, and—horror of horrors!—their beards were starting to fall out. The elf healer stayed locked in his rooms and spent his time playing the harp and drinking his stash of fine wine.
Fortunately for everyone, Merrybelle had an idea. “We’re Helpers, so lets help Glimma realize for herself that vegetables aren’t enough. She wants vegetables? We’ll give them to her!”
Thus was born the Helpers’ desperate plan. They would drown Glimma in vegetables!
The next day for breakfast, the cook served pan fried turnips with okra onion sauce and a big cup of puréed cauliflower. Second breakfast was a crustless broccoli pie with whipped pumpkin topping. Lunch was spaghetti squash with tomato cabbage sauce and green beans.
For tea, the Helpers ate carrot-patty sandwiches on turnip bread. For dinner, they had sweet potatoes with more broccoli, followed by beet-infused cheese and sweet pepper soda.
At first, Glimma seemed pleased. But when a second all-vegetable day followed the first, and a third the second, and a fourth the third, she grew less and less happy. By the end of the week, she’d had enough.
“All right!” she cried out, clutching her shrinking, fat-starved belly. “The elf’s diet may work for elves, but the rest of us need our treats, and our biscuits, and our sweets.”
Merrybelle grinned, went to her cellar, and brought out the stored food and drink. “We can still send out the packages of vegetables,” she assured Glimma. “But we’ll add the treats that people love.”
Glimma nodded. “I wanted to help Yule Father,” she said. “I guess I went a bit overboard.”
“More than a bit!” muttered a dwarf Helper from somewhere in the crowd. Merrybelle ignored him. “Your heart is large,” she told Glimma.” “You just forgot what Yule Mother so often tells us. ‘Everything in moderation.’”
With that, Merrybelle took Glimma’s hand. “Let’s put on stockings and go slide down the halls,” she said, “and then have a piece of berry pie and a big mug of hot cocoa.” Glimma grinned. “I might just have a bit of brandy to add to the cocoa.”
Laughing, Merrybelle and Glimma tugged on their special sliding stockings and slid happily away.
And now, so shall I.
Great Story!
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