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Byline: Jeffrey Steingarten
Picture this, the supremely festive midwinter feast: It is the coldest, longest night of the year. All around the polished old wood table is a convivial group of friends, their faces burnished by the glow from the fireplace. Some have brought ancient, costly bottles of wine or Scotch whisky, while others have arrived with exquisite homemade treats. Then there's the third group, who have come empty-handed, always ready to receive yet never to give. But on this special night, who's counting? An audit, a meticulous reckoning, can wait till the morrow.
And at the center of the table, on an old and treasured platter, sits a huge ...