Little Christmas: A Softer Ending, Rooted in the Kitchen
- Meg
- Jan 4
- 4 min read
There’s a moment, somewhere between the last of the leftovers and the first properly quiet morning of January, when the season finally loosens its grip.
In Ireland, that moment has a name: Little Christmas, also known as Women’s Christmas or Nollaig na mBan — literally Women’s Christmas in Irish. Celebrated on 6 January, the Feast of the Epiphany, it marks the true end of the Christmas season.
Not with noise or novelty, but with gentleness.
Growing up, Little Christmas always felt different to Christmas Day. Less performative. Less about proving anything. More about presence. Decorations came down, candles were lit “one last time”, and the house settled into itself again.
For generations, Irish women carried Christmas the planning, the cooking, the baking, the hosting, the emotional labour of making everything feel magical. Little Christmas was the release valve. The day when women stepped back and for once, were looked after.
Men and children took over the house. Women visited neighbours, went out for tea or a drink, or simply sat — properly sat — without guilt.
There was joy in that freedom, and deep comfort in knowing the season had been honoured right to the end.
Cooking as memory, not performance
Some of my strongest memories of Women’s Christmas aren’t tied to specific dishes, but to how the food was cooked.
A pot that simmered quietly all afternoon.
Something baked simply, eaten warm, sliced generously.
No rushing.
No “what else should I do?”
No “Can I get you anything to eat”
Just cooking that belonged to the rhythm of the day.
That’s the kind of cooking I come back to every January, food that steadies you, food that doesn’t shout, food that lets you sit down while it does its thing.
Lets start the Tradition
When I moved to the UK more than twenty years ago, I was genuinely surprised to find that Little Christmas wasn’t widely known. I missed it. Still do. And so I talk about it often because traditions like this deserve to travel.
These days, in my Highland kitchen, Little Christmas is how I gently land the season. With local ingredients, slow cooking and recipes that feel like a kindness rather than a task.
Below are two dishes I often turn to around this time of year, one savoury, one sweet. Both rooted in that quieter way of cooking.
Slow Baked Chicken, Leeks & Mustard Cream
Quietly elegant comfort food — the sort of dish that cooks while you rest.
This is January food at its best: familiar flavours, gently handled, and deeply reassuring. It’s the kind of supper you put in the oven, light a candle, and forget about until it’s ready.
Serves 4
Ingredients
8 chicken thighs (bone-in, skin-on for best flavour)
2 tbsp olive oil or butter
3 leeks, trimmed, sliced and well washed
2 cloves garlic, finely sliced
200ml double cream (or oat cream)
1½ tbsp wholegrain mustard
100ml chicken stock
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
A small handful of thyme or parsley (optional)
Method
Preheat the oven to 170°C (150°C fan).
Season the chicken thighs well and brown them in a pan until golden, skin-side down first. Set aside.
In the same pan, soften the leeks gently with a pinch of salt until sweet and collapsed. Add the garlic, then stir in the cream, mustard and stock. Bring just to a simmer.
Spoon the leeks and sauce into an ovenproof dish, nestle the chicken into the sauce, cover loosely and bake for 45–50 minutes, uncovering for the final 15 minutes to allow the skin to colour.
Serve with mash, buttered greens, or simply bread to mop up the sauce.
Thermomix note:
This is a perfect Little Christmas TM dish — soften the leeks and build the sauce in the bowl, then transfer to the oven and sit down.
Baked Rice Pudding with Clementine & Nutmeg
A proper pudding — gentle, nostalgic and worth the wait.
This is the pudding of quiet kitchens and low ovens. The sort that smells like patience, and always sparks a debate over who gets the skin.
Serves 4–6
Ingredients
75g pudding rice
750ml full-fat milk (or oat milk)
150ml double cream (optional, but lovely)
2 tbsp honey or caster sugar
Zest of 2 clementines
Freshly grated nutmeg
Pinch of sea salt
Knob of butter
Method
Preheat the oven to 160°C (140°C fan). Butter a shallow baking dish and add all the ingredients, stirring gently.
Bake uncovered for 1½–2 hours, stirring once after the first 45 minutes, then leaving it alone to form a golden skin. Dot with butter towards the end if you like it rich.
Serve warm, with nothing more than a spoon — or a little cream if you’re feeling generous.
Thermomix note:
Warm the milk, zest and sweetness in the TM first, then bake low and slow while you rest.
A Little Christmas truth
January food doesn’t need to be restrictive. It needs to be restorative.
This is the time of year when my Thermomix earns its place on the worktop — soups, slow bakes, gentle comfort cooking that gives you your evenings back. It’s also why my seasonal cookbooks focus on cooking with the year, not against it.
A gentle invitation
On 6 January, light a candle.
Cook something simple.
Sit down while it’s still hot.
If Little Christmas speaks to you, I’d love you to:
order from my kitchen or book a private cookery lesson
explore my seasonal cookbooks
book a Thermomix demo
or share this post with someone who needs permission to stop.
Here’s to a softer ending — and a kinder beginning.
Warmly,
Meg xxx
Meg’s Scottish Kitchen
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