In December British cooks can get a bit jingoistic (or perhaps that should be jingleistic), as if the festivities at the end of the month were all that mattered. From weeks beforehand (when is Stir-up Sunday? I can never remember), they began stockpiling seasonal goodies into the larder, to unleash them all in one explosive forty-eight hour family binge. However, I want to emphasise a very important point. These recipes, like cute puppies, are not just for Christmas.

The Brussels sprout has somehow become an indispensable part of Christmas dinner, yet few people can raise much enthusiasm for it. Boiled until limp, yellowing and sulphurous, it’s hardly surprising that they tend to be left on the side of the plate.

Parsnips are an exceptionally hardy vegetable – so much so that a good frost is thought to improve their flavour.

Related to beetroot, but grown for its leaves and succulent stems, chard is an easy plant to get under way, though it prefers ground that has been well manured and gets plenty of sun. Keep it watered in dry weather or it may bolt.

I love goose. It’s about as meaty as farmed poultry gets, with a rich savour that is a touch beefy (they graze on grass after all) and, when properly free range, a touch gamey too. The skin is so robust you can practically get crackling out of it, and the fat on a good bird is so copious that not only is it almost impossible to dry out the bird’s meat but you have enough surplus to roast a massive tray of potatoes and other winter vegetables.

Most people have enjoyed chestnuts on an open fire, either at home or from a street vendor in the city, cooking them on an open brazier. There is great comfort and pleasure to be had from this winter tradition (as Bing Crosby will happily testify, year after year). The pleasure lies as much in the ritual of preparation as in the eating.