I have come back to the town of Kincraig, by Kingussie, in Inverness-shire. To Alvie House, an Edwardian shooting lodge set on a 13,000-acre estate above a small loch in the Scottish Highlands. Back to celebrate with the only nation in the world that does not devote its most important national holiday to a military hero or a political leader, but instead chooses to honor its favorite poet — Robert Burns.
A couple of weeks ago, on New Year’s Eve, millions of people all over the world greeted the new millennium singing a Burns all-time big hit:
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o’auld lang syne?
“Auld lang syne” is Scots dialect for “long ago.” And Burns is reminding us to honor the past and remember the importance of old friendships, and that’s precisely what all of Scotland does every year on the anniversary of Burns’ birth. If you can get yourself to Scotland for a long weekend leading up to Tuesday, Jan. 25, you’re in for a hell of a party.
What to eat
Scotland is not rich in farmland, and its climate can be less than ideal for growing things. As a result, the history of its cooking demonstrates the Scots’ skill at making a lot from a little. The Scots are devoted to recipes that are based on root vegetables like potatoes and turnips. Because of the intensity of the winters, Scots created a cuisine designed to produce a sense of inner warmth — lots of porridge, thick soups, endless rounds of scones, oatcakes and Dundee cake.
Hundreds of miles of seashore, loch-front and riverside, however, give Scotland access to an ideal source of seafood. Scotch salmon is world famous, and there is a generous supply of trout and haddock. Aberdeen Angus beef produces excellent steaks, and the hunting season brings in venison, pheasant, hare and grouse.
Very often the most important dish at a Scottish gathering is based on an ancient recipe that stuffs meat, vegetables and grain into the stomach of an animal and then cooks it over a steaming liquid. Christmas pudding was originally a meat sausage of this kind. In the late 1600s, dried fruit was added and the wrapping shifted to a pudding cloth. Eventually, the fruit replaced meat entirely.
Burns wrote a poem entitled “To a Haggis,” in which he calls the dish the “great chieftain of the pudding race.” Accordingly, haggis is the featured dish at a Burns Night party. Alongside the haggis you might have some mashed parsnips and Clapshot, a turnip and potato puree. The menu could open with Cock-a-Leekie soup made from chicken and leeks, and close with Cranachan, a raspberry cream, presented with petticoat tail shortbread cookies.
The word “haggis” comes from the verb “to hack” or mince, as in mince pie. The same root gave us the word “hash,” and haggis has much in common with our modern recipes for hash. Traditionally, haggis is made from assorted animal parts that have been finely chopped, then seasoned and cooked in a sheep’s stomach, though today the container in which it is cooked is usually a cloth bag. The use of an animal’s paunch as the receptacle for the ingredients adds that touch of romantic barbarism that is so dear to the Scottish heart. Haggis goes with howling bagpipes and leaping over swords. The less you know about the preparation of the dish the better. Be content with the knowledge that it looks like a round meatloaf and tastes great.
What to drink
The beverage of choice on Burns Night is whisky, and in this case, the more you know about its preparation, the better.
The Scots have been distilling spirits for hundreds of years. No one is quite sure when they got started, but there are records in the Edinburgh tax office that deal with whisky going back to 1495. In those days, the monks of Scotland were making a drink called “the water of life.” It had a big-deal reputation as a cure-all, and everyone claimed to drink it for purely medicinal purposes. In the Gaelic language of Scotland it was called usquebaugh, which sounded like “uishgi” to the English, who soon mispronounced it as “whisky.”
These days, there are two kinds of Scotch whisky — single malt and blended. The process for making a single malt is as follows:
1. Barley grain is moistened with water. After a few days it begins to sprout, a process called malting.
2. The malted barley is dried with heat from burning peat, which adds a smoky flavor. Peat is decomposed plant matter that is so concentrated that it can be cut into blocks and burned like wood or coal. The fields of Scotland are filled with it.
3. The dried barley is ground and mixed with water drawn from a nearby stream. This has a major effect on the final flavor of the whisky. If the rain that feeds the stream has passed through fields of peat, the whisky will have more of a peat flavor. If it passed through fields of clover, there will be a flowery or honey-like note. If the stream is near the sea, the whisky may take on a bit of salt.
4. After a while the liquid is drained away from the ground barley and mixed with yeast. The natural sugar that the liquid picked up from the barley interacts with the yeast and converts it to alcohol. This process of fermentation is basically the same chemical reaction that produces beer or wine.
5. The fermented liquid is transferred to a still, which is really a giant teapot. Since alcohol boils at a lower temperature than water, it turns into a vapor first and rises to the top of the still, where it recondenses back to liquid alcohol. The shape of the still has a considerable impact on the final taste of the whisky. If the still is tall, some of the vapor will drip back down and be distilled a second time. The result will be a lighter taste. A short pot can produce a scotch with a creamier body. Every still has its own distinct shape and a characteristic effect on the flavor. Makers are very concerned about changing a still, and when they must, they do it by reproducing their old pot down to the last dent.
6. At this point the whisky is transferred to its aging cask. When scotch was first made, the wooden casks were thought of as mere storage containers. Eventually, however, the still-masters discovered that the cask could change the flavor of the whisky. During the 1800s, the English developed a great taste for sherry, which they imported from Spain in oak casks. When the sherry was taken out of the barrels, the empty casks were purchased by whisky-makers. During the 1900s, the distilleries also began to use spent bourbon casks from the United States, which added caramel and vanilla notes to the scotch. The wood the cask is made of and how it was used before it is filled with the whisky alters the final flavor of the scotch.
Single malt whisky is made from barley, in single batches, and only at one specific distillery. The final product may come from a number of different casks, and of different ages, but always from the same distillery.
During the 1800s, an Irishman named Aeneas Coffey invented a still that functioned continuously. Called the “continuous patent still,” it did not require the repeated cleaning and refilling that was a necessary part of the operation for a pot or single-batch still. It produced a light, quite palatable whisky that was made from an unmalted grain like corn or wheat and it just kept on making alcohol hour after hour. What a glorious moment!
Whisky-makers began blending single malt whiskies from the alcohol produced in the patent still. One maker might add a single malt with a smoky flavor, another could lighten the overall taste, a third might be selected in order to introduce a touch of honey. The new process allowed them to combine the flavor they liked in different single malt whiskies with the flavors from the grains. Local merchants began to introduce different blended Scotch whisky and market them under their own branded labels. When you get to Scotland you can taste your way through at least 300 single malt and blended whiskies.
So here we are, ready for a “wee dram,” which, by the way, is not a specific unit of measurement. A dram can be a half-ounce or a half-pint. It’s all in the eye of the pourer. As Robbie used to say:
Gie me ae spark o’ Nature’s fire,
That’s a’ the learning I desire.
What’s happening and where
Edinburgh
On Jan. 22, the Burns Club will hold a traditional three-course Burns Night Supper at Napier University. The festivities start at 6 p.m. and the cost is 18 pounds. Contact John Clark at 011-44-131-337-3652.
Kirk O’ Field Church holds a gathering on Jan. 28 with an appropriate religious tone. It includes dinner, the playing of the pipes and a toast to the haggis. It starts at 7:30 p.m. and costs 4 pounds. The man to contact is Alastair Murray at 011-44-131-332-2758.
As long as you’re in the neighborhood, stop by the National Portrait Gallery at 2 p.m. on Jan. 23 and watch the annual wreath-laying for the Burns portrait. It’s free. For more information, call 011-44-131-624-6200.
Glasgow
Throughout the month of January, the Glasgow Concert Hall is hosting a Celtic Connections festival (at many different venues) that pays tribute to the traditions of Scotland. Information: 011-44-141-332-6633.
On Jan. 25, starting at 7 p.m., the Glasgow Hilton Hotel will offer a special five-course Burns Night menu in its Cameror’s restaurant. The haggis will be piped in and addressed in the grand traditional manner, Burns’ “Ode to the Lassies” will be recited and a malt whisky ambassador will conduct a whisky-tasting session. The cost is 45 pounds per person and early booking is recommended. The telephone number at Cameror’s restaurant is 011-44-141-204-5511.
Pollock House, in the beautiful Pollock Country Park, is holding a Burns Night celebration on Jan. 25 at 7:30 p.m. The festivities will feature poems, songs and traditional food and drink in the kitchen restaurant. The cost is 18 pounds and the telephone number is 011-44-141-616-6410.
Probably the grandest party in Glasgow, open to the public, will take place on Jan. 31 at 7:30 p.m. inside the Inn on the Green, 25 Greenhead Street. Distinguished actor John Cairney will portray Robert Burns and provide a toast to the “Immortal Memory” along with songs and readings from the works of Burns, followed by a dinner that has become quite popular. The Inn on the Green has been around since the mid-’80s, when it first earned a reputation as one of the finest restaurants in Glasgow for traditional Scottish food. Recently it added an 18-room hotel, so it is now possible to combine a comfortable stay with the evening’s entertainment. The Burns Night dinner is 40 pounds and the number to call is 011-44-141-554-0165.
At the end of a Burns Night party, it is valuable to reflect on an epitaph by Burns — in fact, it’s not a bad idea to keep it in mind throughout the year:
If there’s another world, he lives in bliss;
If there is non, he made the best of this.
Recommended hotels in Edinburgh
Channings, tel: (800) 323-5463.
The Bonham, tel: (800) 323-5463.
The Howard, tel: (800) 323-5463. All are terrific boutique-style hotels located in great residential neighborhoods.
The Balmoral Hotel, a five-star classic on Princes Street, tel: (800) 225-5843.
The Caledonian Hotel, tel: 011-44-131-459-9988.
The George Inter-Continental, a popular high-end property, tel: (800) 327-0200.
The Malmaison, in the Leith section of Edinburgh. Somewhat out of town but funky and fun. I stayed there with my film crew when we were taping in Edinburgh. Tel: 011-44-131-555-6868.
Recommended hotels in Glasgow
The Glasgow Hilton is appreciated for its level of service, though it is primarily a business hotel and doesn’t have a strong Scottish feel. Tel: (800) 445-8667.
Malmaison also has a property in Glasgow, located on George Street, not far from good shopping and George Square. Tel: 011-44-141-221-6400.
The Devonshire Hotel is always at the top of people’s lists. Located in Glasgow’s West End, it has only 12 rooms and is the choice of celebrities from around the world. It also has a popular formal restaurant. Tel: 011-44-141-339-7878.
Another great hotel with a similar name is
One Devonshire Gardens, a jewel in the same neighborhood, with 27 guest rooms and a great restaurant. Tel: 011-44-141-339-2001.
Tourist boards
Scottish Tourist Board, tel: 011-44-146-371-6996; fax: 011-44-146-371-7266.
Edinburgh Tourist Board, tel: 011-44-131-473-3800; fax: 011-44-131-473-3881.
Glasgow Tourist Board, tel: 011-44-141-204-4480; fax: 011-44-141-204-4772.
And finally, a super Burns Supper Web site
The Burns Supper — A Literary Feast.
During the 1100s, the Christian Church had three Holy Cities: Jerusalem,
Rome and Santiago de Compostela on the northwest tip of Spain. If you made
the trip to one of these cities, the church would reduce the impact of your
sins in the afterlife. It was called an indulgence. Getting to Jerusalem
was a difficult and dangerous journey. Rome was a much easier trip, but
getting an indulgence in Rome was complex and you were never sure what was
going to happen when you got there. Santiago de Compostela was your best
bet — not a shoo-in, but the route was clearly marked and well-established
resting places had been set up across northern Spain.
During the 12th and 13th centuries, tens of thousands of pilgrims made the
trip each year, aided by the first travel guide ever published. The
“Codex Calixtinus” was written by a monk and published in 1130. It
warned the pilgrims about dangerous neighborhoods and where the food was
good or bad; if there had been toilets, it would have rated their
cleanliness. It was the Mobil guide of the moment.
When the pilgrims got to Santiago, they were given a Composelana, a
document proving that they had made the trip and confirming the reduction
of their time in purgatory. If, however, they made the trip during a Holy
Year — when St. James’ Day, July 25, fell on a Sunday — then all
their time in purgatory was forgiven and they could go directly to heaven,
without passing GO or paying $200.
Santiago was on the heavenly route because the local cathedral held the
bones of James the Greater, the older brother of John the Evangelist. After
Christ’s crucifixion, he had been sent as a missionary to Spain. He had worked
there for seven years without accomplishing much, then given up and headed
back to Jerusalem, where he was put to death by Herod Agrippa —
thereby becoming the first of Christ’s apostles to be martyred.
James’ disciples returned his body to Spain, but the site of his burial
was forgotten until 814, when a shepherd was guided to the spot by a shower
of stars. This is how the place got its name — Santiago de Compostela
translates to St. James of the Field of Stars.
Thirty years later a vision of St. James appeared during a battle and led
Ramiro I to a victory over the Moors, who had been occupying Spain since the
early 700s. This put an end to the memory of St. James as a missionary;
henceforth he was memorialized as “St. James the Slayer of the Moors,”
patron saint of Spain and emblem of the Reconquest.
At the time, discovering the bones of a saint was a big deal and
illustrated the power of the church. It was also big business. The
Benedictine abbey at Cluny in France was the most powerful Christian
organization in the neighborhood, and pushing the Moors out of Spain was
very much in their interest. They encouraged their French subjects to set
up businesses along the route from Burgundy to the tip of Spain, and to
build churches and hostels along the way. They also taught the locals to
make wine, which along with brandy was a major industry for the
Benedictines.
The church was entitled to 10 percent of everyone’s action. The majority
of the faithful, however, were peasant farmers. If the church got paid in
farm products, the shelf life was short and reselling the goods for cash
was difficult. On the other hand, if the peasants could be taught to make
good wine, then the church could take its celestial commission by the
barrel, an infinitely preferable alternative. Wine could be stored for
years, it could be shipped from one abbey to another and it could be traded
for just about anything — and sometimes it even increased in value with
the passage of time. And thus, as the Benedictine monks moved through northern Spain,
they blessed the locals with their winemaking expertise.
The glories of Getaria
Pilgrim or not, if you are traveling along the north coast of Spain, the town of Getaria is worth a stop. Just down the road from the new Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, it’s famous as the hometown of Juan Sebastian Elcano, the navigator on Magellan’s voyage around the world.
Most popular literature has Magellan as the first person to sail around the planet, but this is not true — Magellan died midway, in the Philippines. It was Elcano who completed the voyage home and who should be given credit. The noble statue of him in Getaria’s town square is a thoughtful gesture, but it’s really not enough. The man needed a better agent.
Getaria is also the center for the production of a local wine called txakoli, which is made from the grapes grown on the nearby hills. Young,
sparkling and fruity, it is poured from a bottle held a few feet above the glass, on the theory that this little journey aerates the wine and increases its sparkle.
Getaria has a number of good restaurants that specialize in the outdoor grilling of fish that come from the town’s port. The grills are set up outside, near the entrance to the restaurants, and your selection is cooked to order.
Now that we’re on the subject of great Basque food, here is a local recipe adapted for the American home kitchen by Gerald Hirigoyen, who runs two terrific restaurants in San Francisco — Fringale and Pastis — that specialize in Basque cooking. He is also the author of “The Basque Kitchen,” a definitive work on the subject published in 1999 by HarperCollins.
SEARED TUNA WITH ONION MARMALADE (adapted from “The Basque Kitchen: Tempting Food from the Pyrenees,” by Gerald Hirigoyen with Cameron Hirigoyen)
This dish was inspired by Gerald Hirigoyen’s uncle’s tuna and onion casserole. He would put a big tuna steak in a casserole dish and cover it with onions and a little oil. Then he cooked it on top of the stove for a long, long time. When Gerald came to California and tasted ahi tuna cooked rare like a steak, he was hooked. So he adapted his uncle’s combination of ingredients to the West Coast cooking style. This same preparation, served on a steaming bed of green lentils, was the most popular dish on the opening menu at Fringale in 1991. Every time he tried to retire it, the customers would stage an uproar.
Serves 4
ONION MARMALADE
1/4 cup olive oil
2 large onions, finely sliced
1/4 cup sherry vinegar
1/2 cup balsamic vinegar
1/2 cup water
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground white pepper
1 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon piment d’Espelette, or sweet paprika*
1 tablespoon olive oil
4 tuna steaks (about 6 ounces each and 1 1/2 inches thick)
Kosher salt
Freshly ground white pepper
2 cups warm green lentils with bacon (see recipe below)
*This is a traditional Basque seasoning made from peppers grown in the village of Espelette in Labourd province. It’s available in the United States from IGO Foods, P.O. Box 77878, San Francisco, CA 94107; (415) 567-4796.
To make the onion marmalade, warm 1/4 cup olive oil in a medium sauti pan over medium-high heat. Add the onions and sauti until they turn golden brown, about 10 minutes. Stir in the vinegars, water, 1 teaspoon salt, 1/4 teaspoon pepper, sugar and piment d’Espelette. Bring to a slow boil and cook until the liquid is completely evaporated, about 15 minutes. Remove from the heat and set aside.
In a separate medium-large saucepan, warm 1 tablespoon olive oil over medium-high heat. Sprinkle both sides of the tuna steaks with salt and pepper. Sear them until medium rare, about 2 minutes on each side, depending on the thickness of the tuna.
For each serving, spoon the green lentils (see below) onto the center of the plate. Place a tuna steak on top and cover with onion marmalade.
GREEN LENTILS WITH BACON
6 ounces sliced bacon, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
2 tablespoons rendered duck fat, or unsalted butter
1 small onion, coarsely chopped
6 garlic cloves
2 1/2 cups small green lentils, rinsed
1 bouquet garni*
5 cups water
Kosher salt
Freshly ground white pepper
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
Put the bacon in a saucepan and cover with water. Bring to a simmer over
moderately high heat; drain, rinse and drain again.
Warm the duck fat or butter in a large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add the bacon to the pan and sauti for 1 minute. Add the onion and garlic and sauti for about 3 minutes longer. Add the lentils, the bouquet garni, water and salt and pepper to taste. Bring to a boil.
Reduce heat to medium and cook until much of the liquid has evaporated, and the lentils are tender and moist, 25 to 30 minutes.
Just before serving, add the butter, olive oil and balsamic vinegar, and reheat. Stir together well. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
*This is composed of two sprigs each of parsley and thyme and two bay leaves tied together with kitchen string.
Return of the pilgrims
Following the Protestant Reformation, the market for indulgences dropped off and the pilgrimage business declined. However, there has been a recent resurgence. During the Holy Year 1993, over 100,000 pilgrims followed the old route, and 2000 is expected to be a banner year for pilgrimages as well. New hotels and inns are being built to accommodate the traffic.
To qualify as an authentic pilgrim, you must walk a minimum of 62 miles, but you can also meet the requirement by biking for 124. Inline skaters have made petitions but as yet there is no official ruling. And if you’re considering a skateboard, forget about it.
It is essential to start with a letter from your parish priest and a record book that gets stamped along the way. Shirley MacLaine is said to have made the trip at least twice.
For additional information, visit the Way of St. James Web site or contact XACOBEO 2000, Pavillon de Galicia, San Lasaro, s/n, Santiago de Compostela, Spain; telephone 001 34 981 54 19 99.
Many historians believe that our first ritual was the one we created to celebrate the beginning of a new year. Makes sense, but how do you decide when the beginning begins? Interesting problem — and it has been solved in different ways from society to society, century to century and place to place.
Usually, a naturally recurring event would mark the date of a new year. An annual change in the weather, the beginning or end of a growing season, or the return of an important food source (animal or vegetable) would signal the start of the festivities.
It was the ancient Romans, however, who decided to celebrate New Year’s on the first of January, a day when nothing special was happening in nature. At the time they had a calendar that divided the year into 10 months. The first month was March and the last was December. At the end of December, everyone stopped counting for 60 days until March got started. It was a very confusing policy.
In 153 B.C., a Roman general noticed that the Egyptians had filled in the blank time with two new months and he mentioned it to the Roman Senate. The politicians loved it, immediately introduced January and February and marked the first of January as the official opening day of the New Year. This was an extraordinary change from the past. Suddenly it was Man taking charge over Nature.
After the fall of the Roman Empire, Europe was confused as to which day should be used to start the new year. Some communities liked autumn for the start of their new year. We still feel that influence: The school year starts in the fall, many corporations begin their fiscal year in the fall and, as we are never allowed to forget, the new television season begins in the fall.
Originally, the French tied the start of their new year to the arrival of Easter Sunday. They celebrated the rebirth of the year along with the birth of Christ, combining two important festivals of regeneration in one. The fact that spring was a time for good eating didn’t hurt. The produce was younger and the wine was older. The French have always understood the importance of coordinating their gatherings and celebrations with what’s good to eat.
Britain celebrated New Year’s Day on December 25th until William the Conqueror had himself crowned on January 1, 1067, and thought it would be nice to move New Year’s to that date.
Italy liked their New Year’s on Christmas Day until 1582, when Pope Gregory XIII decreed that the Church follow a new system (humbly named the Gregorian calendar), which chose January 1 as its starting date.
The transition from the old to the new year is filled with superstitions and elaborate rituals. Many societies feel that what you do on New Year’s Day you will do the whole year long. Some people say that if you like your work and want to continue it in the coming year, you should carry a symbol of your profession throughout the day. If you wear something new, it will help you get new things during the New Year. You should also make an effort to get up early on New Year’s Day, not lend anything and avoid crying.
A baby in diapers is often used as an image, symbolizing the old Germanic idea of welcoming in the New Year “child” while ushering out the “old man” of last year. At my age, I’m not thrilled with that imagery, but in the interest of even-handed journalism I’m passing it along.
Money plays an important role in the celebration of the New Year. Many people make an effort to pay all their bills before the turn of the year. But remember (if you plan to follow this custom), you need to pay them off before New Year’s Eve! You don’t want to start the New Year laying out money; this could start a trend that might continue all year long. There’s also a belief that you should keep some money in your pocket on New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. And if you have children, put some money in their pockets to diversify. Hide some money outside your house on New Year’s Eve, and take it back in on New Year’s Day — this may send a signal to the universe that money is meant to flow in this year.
In Scotland, people believe that the first person to come into your house in the New Year will set the tone for the coming months. That person is referred to as the “first footer,” and is sometimes chosen by the family in an attempt to control its own luck. In case you’d like to try out for the job, the person should be tall and dark-haired, but not flat-footed or have eyebrows that meet in the middle. This “first footer” is often also called the “lucky bird.” He may bring a present to the household, but it should be something that will be used up inside the home and not taken out again — single malt whiskey is always appropriate.
In France, there was a time when people used New Year’s Day as an excuse to pay a visit to their associates or to people with whom they hoped to be associated. Very often, the people they went out to see were not home because they were out trying to visit people with whom they hoped to associate. The result of all this visiting was a general lack of reception: Almost no one was at home. But you left your visiting card to show you had been there. Eventually people gave up leaving cards in person and began popping them in the mail. That’s how our present custom of mailing New Year’s cards — which evolved into our custom of sending Christmas cards — got started.
In farm communities it was important to protect the crops and animals from evil spirits at the moment of change from the old to the new year. The most reliable technique for keeping these spirits on the move appears to be the blowing of horns combined with the banging of drums. Additional well-respected procedures include shouting, whistling, ringing bells and generally making a nuisance of yourself during those first few moments as the old year changes to the new. Making noise has often been part of the rituals associated with beginning something new. We bang on a door to have it opened; we bang on a pan to start the New Year.
Many cultures believe that the food and drink of New Year’s Eve will have an important influence on life during the coming year. The ancient Romans thought that a table represented a “field of fortune” that could be used to send a signal to the gods. They would cover their New Year’s table with all the foods they loved — sending a message of abundance for the future.
A primary object for every important celebration is an attempt to reconcile opposites: death and rebirth at Easter, light during the darkest days at Christmas, giving up the old while accepting the new at a birthday party. What we eat and drink on these occasions has been carefully chosen to assist with this balancing act, and the meals on New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day are perfect examples of our desire to show both sides of our personalities.
One group of food is always simple, inexpensive and easy to make (like the New Year’s Day lentil soups of Italy). These foods show that we are not wasteful, and deserve good things in the coming year. The second group of foods is expensive, rare and often extravagant (champagne and caviar). These foods send the opposite signal: “Excuse me! But since I have the capacity to be a simple, thrifty and deserving person, could I have more of this good stuff in the New Year?” In most cultures, both groups of foods are served at the same time and balance each other out.
The moment when the old year becomes the new is always important. You are supposed to stay up and be clearheaded and happy as the bells start to toll. It is a turning point, and you want to be able to consciously direct your fate at this very significant moment. The whole idea of a New Year’s Eve party is to establish a happy setting as the New Year begins. Of a good beginning cometh a good end.
