I know this is kind of weird, but chilled shrimp reminds me of Christmas. I've told the story before, but in case you haven't heard it, I'll fill you in. Ever since I can remember, my extended family has always come together at my grandparent's house during the holidays. Now, inevitably life happens, and there are years when you just can't make it. But the thing is, you always know what you're missing. Our routine...or maybe tradition is a better word...has never strayed too far year to year.
Does everybody love their grandparent's house? I mean, the people themselves, of course - but the house itself? Because I do. I've always dreamed of having a house just like theirs. Only updated and in a different location. It's a split-level ranch and though it may not look like it from the outside, has tons of space. So, although the family has grown exponentially, we all still fit nicely.
But anyway, the dining room has one wall that is filled by sliding glass doors that lead out to the back yard. Since they live in Michigan, there's not much call for opening them on Christmas Eve
(you know, it's freezing and snowy outside), so the vertical blinds are closed and a table is butted up against the space, turning it into a wall. This table holds platters piled high with sliced ham, baskets of hawaiian rolls, trays of veggies with bowls of dip set in the center. Scalloped potatoes, dips both hot and cold, piping-hot bacon-wrapped water chestnuts, and the pièce de résistance - a giant dish filled to the gills with delicate pink shrimp and a bowl of cocktail sauce.
