I’ll be making gravy

Australian Christmas songs either seem to be cringingly over the top, or songs designed to make you cry.

This one manages to fall in between those two categories. As long as you don’t think too much about being away from family at Christmas, or traditions around making gravy.

I used to be in charge of making the gravy at my Grandma’s family dinners. Or at least that’s what Grandma let me think. I’d come in the front door, that was always left wide open, around the side opposite to the room where everyone was gathered, jumping up to touch the archway on the my way through, then into the kitchen where the pan from meat drippings was waiting on the stove. I’d add flour, and water, and probably Worcestershire sauce and stir stir stir to make sure there weren’t any lumps. It would start bubbling and I’d have to stir harder and keep it moving to stop it from sticking.

I haven’t been able to ever replicate the results so I must be missing steps, or probably just the concentration and focus that a teenage girl trying to avoid her entire extended family can give to the process of making gravy.

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