HAS your cousin become a vegan since last Christmas? Here’s how they will cancel your beloved nan’s traditional Boxing Day trifle layer-by-layer:
Chocolate sprinkles
As the trifle arrives in the glass dish that allegedly belonged to your great-great-great grandma but actually came from a car boot in 1987, your cousin is already eyeing it suspiciously and asking whether those chocolate sprinkles are fair trade? This leads to a delay in serving as she delivers a tedious lecture on equitable trade relationships. Your grandad nods off.
Cream
Your cousin sniffily asks whether it’s vegan cream. Your nan is nonplussed and your brother says ‘I hope not, that oat shit tastes like arse.’ Your mum tells him off for swearing at the table but then concedes that non-dairy cream is vile and also does not whip properly. Your cousin counters that animals shouldn’t have to die for humans to have the correct consistency of cream. Your dad rolls his eyes.
Custard
The good news is that your nan used Bird’s custard powder, which is vegan, but she mixed it with milk, which isn’t. She also added real vanilla, which, as is discovered under intense questioning from your cousin about its provenance, didn’t come from a sustainable source. Auntie Carole asks if we can just eat the bloody thing, please, because the Strictly special is on in ten minutes.
Jelly
‘Enjoy your boiled pig tendons and cow hooves,’ your cousin sneers as the trifle is finally slopped into bowls and being consumed. You make a particularly big deal about slurping the jelly up, just to piss her off. Your nan tells her to stop sulking and eat her vegan ice cream. And she’d better enjoy it because it cost a bloody fortune.
Strawberries
Your cousin comments on the selfishness of eating strawberries in December and starts ranting about food miles. Your nan listens calmly and then hits back with the news that they were grown in their own garden and frozen in August. Your cousin is speechless, while your brother yells ‘mic drop!’ and excitedly wakes your grandad up to tell him about the sick burn.
Ladyfinger biscuits
Uncle Roy indulges in a bit of light innuendo by saying how much he loves a ladyfinger, the same as he does every year, and your cousin gives him an earful about sexism. As she starts to question whether the consumption of a confection named after female body parts represents the pinnacle of patriarchal oppression, everyone else leaves the table to get another drink.
The traumatic atrocity of your nan's trifle: your vegan cousin's layer-by-layer guide
