Sarah Nigbor

I come from a line of ladies who have perfected making the holidays a fun, festive season, full of magic, beauty and love. I strive to follow in their footsteps.

My grandmother spent hours in the kitchen making all sorts of Norwegian goodies, such as lefse, krumkake and rosettes. To this day, I’ve never found anyone who can make krumkake and rosettes as light, airy and crisp as she could. She also made me Swedish crispbread (Knäckebröd) every year, because she knew it was my favorite. I have never been a fan of lefse (gasp, I know) and find lathering it with butter and brown sugar disgusting, so she found an alternative for me. I miss it and her. I haven’t been able to find it anywhere and I never learned how to make it with her.

My mother is the Queen of Gift Giving. Every year, my grandparents would tell her to save her money, they didn’t need anything, but I’d wake up Christmas morning to a mountain of presents towering almost as high as the tree. Nothing brings her greater joy than finding thoughtful gifts for others and seeing them smile as they open them. She worked two jobs as long as I could remember, and I’ll always be grateful for her generosity and finding time to make the holidays special, though she must have been so tired. I can now relate. She always had Christmas music playing and apple cider simmering on the stove, along with a kettle of homemade beer cheese soup for my grandpa (his favorite). And we can’t forget her cheese ball (lovingly called “the cheese bomb”) that serves as an appetizer each year. Somehow we never learn not to stuff ourselves with it before dinner.

My aunt Kay is the epitome of a gracious host. Every year, her house looks like it belongs in an HGTV magazine, with hidden holiday treasures everywhere you look. From her glistening glass Christmas tree collection to her fishing-themed Christmas tree to the polished wood shelves holding Santa figurines, her house is magical. Since I was born, we have spent Christmas Eves at her house, complete with Uncle Ronnie’s egg nog and deviled eggs, cheesy potatoes topped with crunchy cornflakes and homemade whipped cream (the kids always get to lick the beaters) made right before it’s plopped onto our pie. My Christmas decorations are inspired by her.

My great-aunt Lorraine was also a wonderful host and I miss her terribly. Each year, we’d go to her house near St. Cloud (or Golden Valley when she lived there) on a Saturday in December for a long visit to celebrate Christmas. My grandparents, always punctual, would roust me out of bed at 5 a.m. and we would get into the car with Mom before daylight so we could be there in time for coffee around 8 a.m. My cousins and I would spend the day running up and down her basement stairs, playing hide and seek in the numerous bedrooms, or getting hugs when Aunt Lorriane caught us. Whenever I smell barbecued ribs, I think of her house because that’s what we always had for dinner. We’d open presents after lunch gathered around the fireplace and the adults would drink too strong Tom & Jerry’s, courtesy of Uncle Norman. I miss those days.

I often wonder what our kids will remember about the holidays, what will stick in their minds as they grow older. All the Christmases run together, but the common thread woven through the years was love, warmth, togetherness, too much good food and magic.

Thank you, Grandma, Mom, Aunt Kay and Aunt Lorraine, for everything you taught me about making the holidays special. Merry Christmas to all!