A Fezziwig Affair, thirteen years of drunk brunch
Today is Candlemas—or the cross quarter day known to some as Imbolc—and it’s time to wrap up all the things began at the last cross quarter day, Samhain/Halloween/All Saints Day/Dia de los Muertos.
I host a teaching series that begins around November 2nd every year, called Dancing in the Dreamtime, where we discover for ourselves the direct path of revelation, or how to shamanically journey using just a drum or rattle. The intentions that were seeded during that time will be ritually burned today, and I encourage all to consider what was harvested around Halloween of 2025 in your own life. What plans formed in response to that harvest, during your own dreaming in these dark months? What soil was prepared through the winter? What intentions have you carried since that time you are wanting to plant out now that the light is returning?
But, before we move forward on goals and plans for the garden bed of our lives this year, I wanted to take a moment to reflect on one of my very favorite annual traditions: Drunk Brunch. This year marked the thirteenth year of this magnificent feast, at it did not disappoint.
I am a nutter for Christmas, and the one story that has probably influenced me the most in this life has been Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. Every year since 2012, save one, I have hosted this holiday brunch, with my inspiration being the Fezziwig Christmas party portrayed in the books and subsequent films.
This interaction between Scrooge and The Ghost of Christmas Past lives rent free inside me on most days:
“ “A small matter,” said the Ghost, “to make these silly folks so full of gratitude.”
“Small!” echoed Scrooge.
The Spirit signed to him to listen to the two apprentices who were pouring out their hearts in praise of Fezziwig; and when he had done so, said,
“Why! Is it not? He has spent but a few pounds of your mortal money—three or four, perhaps. Is that so much that he deserves this praise?”
“It isn’t that,” said Scrooge; heated by the remark and speaking unconsciously like his former—not his latter—self. “It isn’t that, Spirit. He has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our service light or burdensome: a pleasure or a toil. Say that his power lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count ‘em up—what then? The happiness he gives, is quite as great, as if it cost a fortune.” ”
We started this party all those years ago when we did not have much money. We lived with our roommates and made a collaborative effort of things. My husband found a tree farm that remains a part of our tradition to this day. We collected ornaments and lights from clearance aisles, and we sent out free electronic invites asking for everyone to bring something to share. And every year, the intention has been the same: to show gratitude to the folks we love, and to lavish gratitude on all those who have shown up for us throughout the year.
In true Hobbit fashion, Drunk Brunch is our Giveaway.
It started as a potluck, then morphed into an event I catered. As our assets grew, I was able to hire caterers. For whatever reason, I decided to cook again last year, something I have since vowed never to do again. But, what a grand finale for my services it was. The Hubs caught his own salmon up in Campbell River in August, and smoked it himself for the party. My friend who is a gluten free baker took on the challenge of creating the Yule Log. And, I went as soft-touch as I could muster with a sweet and savory strata. Sweet was vanilla custard soaked layers of Mariposa’s GF bread, whipped ricotta with marzipan, rum soaked apricots and sliced apples. Savory was again layers of bread with sauteed kale, mushrooms, and sundried tomatoes—the obvious winner for the day.
No display of gratitude would be complete without a gift. Throughout the years, this has also changed. Due to my tree-hugging sensibilities, as much as I love throwing parties and giving things away, I also want to be conscious of my impact and the crap I am putting out into the world—as much for the items folks collect in their homes, as for the items collected in landfills. I work hard to ensure all food and beverage related items are either reusable or compostable, and the same goes for the gifts I give out to our 60-80 guests every year.
This year we handed out bees wax wraps, and packets of Mexican Marigold seeds that were grown earlier in the year out the backyard. Marigolds that we used to celebrate Samhain and Dia de los Muertos, flowers that had been planted just after the cross quarter day of Imbolc 2025. Those seeds were planted with prayers and intentions, heartfelt energy that was nurtured everytime those plants were tended.
Those seeds were pouched in pretty paper filled with its own seeds that can be itself planted, and sealed in wax with the help of my very own fancy elf.
As we start to plot and plan what to plant for harvest of 2026, let’s take just a moment to give thanks for all that is already in our lives. May we all find ways, no matter our circumstances, to connect with those we love and cultivate Joy in these historic and uncertain times.