You never know where you are with television chefs and design experts. One minute they're saying, oh yes, you must make all your own mincemeat and hand crimp the party streamers. Then, in the comfort of their private lives, they are doing exactly the opposite. This is a nation that has never recovered from the news that, instead of spending Advent with her arm stuck up a turkey in Suffolk, Delia Smith likes to spend Christmases in the Caribbean. Martha Stewart urged everyone to make gingerbread houses when she was actually in a gingerbread jail and even Nigella has reneged on her non-negotiable Christmas credo. Once it was turkey and all the trimmings or else. Now she's saying it's OK to have pizza and curry sauce instead. Could everyone make their minds up, please? Do we bother with the complicated canapés and traditional puds or not? Judging by the example they all set, I would say not.
For Christmas is the one time of year when the ordinary Joe in his ordinary domestic kitchen has to somehow morph into a professional cook with a large and spanking restaurant to match. And face a demanding bunch of regulars who have looked forward to this meal all year and will only accept the best. Quite possibly, they will all be roaring drunk and in a highly emotional state, too.
It should be simple. Basically the whole Christmas thing is just Sunday lunch plus chestnuts and a paper hat apiece, no? Unfurl the streamers, set fire to a pudding and ignore most of Nigella and Jamie's complicated exhortations? What's the big deal? Readers, you know what the big deal is. It is the numbers. We are just not trained to cook for what always seems like hundreds of people.
For us, the few people left in this country who are not actually celebrity chefs, the whole day is a bit of a roasting, steaming nightmare. We have no experience of mass catering. By about 4pm on the 25th, however, we quite understand the impulses behind mass murder.
Be honest. We don't know what to do when two dozen rellies descend en masse and start to complain about the smoked-salmon starter and demanding constant cocktail refills as if they were parched refugees who had just crawled across the Gobi on their empty bellies. Or keep asking if they can watch Top of the Pops and the Queen's speech instead of sitting at the table. Look. Le Gavroche doesn't have to put up with that sort of nonsense. Ask for the telly to be switched on at Corrigan's and you'd be out on your ear with the chef's turkey baster shoved where the sun don't shine. Clue: not your armpit.
No wonder mayhem ensues. One day, you are heating up a pizza in your slippers, moaning that there's no milk in the fridge and who ate the last digestive biscuit anyway. Next, your reservations book is full, a party of 26 and a dog is booked in for 2pm and someone is screaming from your armchair that they ordered a cup of tea over an hour ago, and can they see the manager, please?
Well, fear not. If your house, like millions across the country, has suddenly turned into a seasonal restaurant, it makes sense to apply proper restaurant rules to the proceedings. So first, get a cloakroom going. Put a big dish of coins and fivers in front of the coats so that people get the right idea. Then, establish the identity of the most sullen, rude and bad-tempered friend or member of your family. Place them behind a bookings desk which you have installed by your front door. When your cherry-cheeked Christmas guests arrive, it is imperative that your new receptionist does not issue them with a festive greeting, or even say hello. 'Have you booked?' is the only acceptable opener, complete with much sighing and teeth-sucking as the bookings list is scrutinised. Unless they are minor celebrities or once appeared in The Bill, make sure they are sitting in the worst seats of the house.
Most important. Part roast and prepare everything a few days beforehand and reheat on the day. I love the smell of a napalmed microwave on Christmas morning. Of course, the food won't taste nearly as good and your turkey gravy will be the temperature of Baffin Bay, but what do these people expect for £25 a head, plus cracker and free glass of mulled wine? Hire some really clumsy oaf to lean over everyone throughout the meal and top up their water and wine so that their glasses are permanently a-brim. The oaf must then ask the following question at least every 15 minutes. 'Another bottle? Another bottle? Another bottle?'
Plonk your bill on the table when everyone is still wolfing down your brandy butter. Tell Grandma that service is not included, even when it is. Lunch might be rubbish, but at least this year you might make a profit! Merry Christmas!
Three restaurants where you can enjoy Christmas
Corrigan's
Mayfair, 28 Upper Grosvenor Street, London W1, 020 7499 9943
Cosy, clubby restaurant handy for West End shopping. The emphasis is on game, wild fish and seafood, shot through with the kind of rootsy Irish sensibility that is the hallmark of Richard Corrigan's brilliant cooking. Or just have a glass of champagne and a plate of excellent smoked salmon from Sally Barnes's Woodcock Smokery in West Cork.
Bocca Di Lupo
12 Archer Street, London W1, 020 7734 2223
Tremendous new pantomime bolthole near West End theatres. Lovely Italian food, served in small or large portions to encourage sharing. Eat at the big marble counter or in the small dining room - fritto di mare, fresh porcini, deep-fried artichokes, and lots of silky pasta.
Haandi
136 Brompton Road, London SW3, 020 7823 7373
Terrific Indian restaurant, good for a break from Knightsbridge Christmas shopping. Light, spicy food includes khaju til rolls - vegetable cakes filled with cashew nuts and mint.