Fireside Cheese Spread

Christmas Eve. I sang "O Holy Night." Fifth year. The tradition. The church is at reduced capacity — masks, distance, no full choir. But the soloists sing. And I am a soloist on Christmas Eve and I will sing in a half-empty church with the same conviction I sang in a full one because the song doesn't count the pews. The song counts the hearts. Curtis was in the third pew. Derek beside him. The four children in a row. Six hearts. Mama's was the seventh, somewhere above the rafters, and the high note went up to her and Curtis nodded and Derek nodded and the two nods were the same nod and I have been singing this song for five Christmases and the nod is the same every year and it will be the same every year until I stop singing, which is never.

Christmas in the Cascade Heights house. First one. The kitchen — MY kitchen, the one with the gas stove and the window — was the command center. I cooked everything. The full menu. Every tradition. The table seated ten: me, Derek, Curtis, Claudette, the four kids, Vanessa and Brian. Andre on FaceTime (he did a comedy set from his apartment; the family demanded it). Miss Ernestine on FaceTime (she critiqued the ham from three hundred miles away; the woman is unstoppable). The food was the map. The table was the territory. The kitchen was the country. And the country was mine.

After dinner, after the dishes (Derek washes; he always washes), after the kids went to their rooms, Curtis sat in his chair and looked at the tree and said, "Good house." I said, "Good Christmas." He said, "Your mama would say the rolls are still dense." I laughed. I laughed until I cried. The rolls are NOT dense — the rolls have been perfect for two years — but Curtis Jackson will maintain that Brenda's were better because maintaining that fiction is how he keeps her alive. The rolls are the argument. The argument is the love. The love is the line.

Every tradition has to start somewhere — the songs, the seating, the argument about the rolls — and I wanted this first Christmas in my kitchen, my house, my country, to begin the right way, which meant food on the table before the coats were off. This fireside cheese spread was out before the ham came out of the oven, before Derek started on the dishes, before Andre got on FaceTime with his set already memorized. Ten people need something to do with their hands while the kitchen is still running. This was that. Warm, rich, generous, and exactly right for a house that was just becoming a home.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 40 min (includes 30 min chill) | Servings: 12

Ingredients

16 oz cream cheese, softened
1 1/2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese
1/3 cup sour cream
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika, plus more for garnish
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
3 tablespoons fresh chives, finely chopped, divided
Salt and black pepper to taste
Crackers, sliced baguette, and crudites for serving

Instructions

Soften and beat. In a large bowl, beat the cream cheese with a hand mixer on medium speed until completely smooth and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Scrape down the sides of the bowl.
Add the cheese and seasonings. Fold in the shredded cheddar, sour cream, Worcestershire sauce, garlic powder, onion powder, smoked paprika, and cayenne. Stir until evenly combined.
Season and fold in chives. Taste and adjust salt and black pepper as needed. Fold in 2 tablespoons of the chives, reserving the rest for garnish.
Shape and chill. Transfer the mixture to a serving bowl or shape into a round on a piece of plastic wrap, wrap tightly, and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes to allow the flavors to come together.
Garnish and serve. Before serving, dust the top with a pinch of smoked paprika and scatter the remaining chives over the top. Set out with crackers, sliced baguette, and any vegetables for dipping.

Nutrition (per serving)

Fireside Cheese Spread — The Full Menu, the Full Table, the Full House