Our Christmas Cookbook - 19. Tomtar

Tomtar

By Valkyrie

I yawned and stretched, narrowly avoiding hitting the gray tabby sleeping by my head. I glanced at the clock on the DVR. Two-fucking-thirty-three a.m. Stupid bladder. The cat gave me a dirty look as I rolled on my side, then sat up and headed to the bathroom. Well excuse me for disturbing his royal highness’ sleep.

After washing my hands when I was done peeing, I headed back to bed. Smokey huffed and chirped, then moved to lay with his back to me. Snubbed. I had no sympathy for my furry friend, since his middle of the night crazies kept me up pretty frequently. My phone lit up and dinged, letting me know I had a notification. I rolled my eyes. God forbid I went five minutes without being notified of… something.

So and so liked your post.

So and so posted a link.

So and so commented on a post you commented on five years ago.

Who fucking cares?

Stacy messaged you.

Wait… Stacy messaged me? Why the hell would Stacy message me? We were hobby friends, but I hadn’t seen her in years, and we rarely chatted. I swiped the screen and tapped on the messenger icon.

Check this out! It’s right near you. Thought you’d be interested in them.

My eyes widened and my heart started pounding. My hands shook as I tapped to enlarge the picture accompanying the text. It was a screenshot of a Facebook Marketplace ad for a table full of Swedish Christmas gnomes, local pick up only.

For fifty dollars.

For ALL of them.

Each individual gnome was worth about a hundred.

“Oh my God!” I shouted and sat up, sending Smokey skittering off the bed.

I looked at the shelf next to my window and grinned. My tableau of Christmas gnomes was about to get much bigger. Hell, I’d need another shelf to fit all the new ones! My mind spun with possibilities. I could put the gray gnome with the wreath next to the red one holding a cat. And was that a blue gnome holding a teddy bear? That was the rarest gnome of all! The holy grail of Swedish Christmas gnome collectors!

I was practically hyperventilating.

Should I contact the seller now or wait ‘til the morning? My decision was almost instantaneous. I’d message the seller now, even though it was the middle of the night, in case someone else had the same idea. That way, hopefully my timestamp would be earlier.

I’d love to purchase your gnomes, if they’re still available. I can pick up at your convenience.

I really hoped no one else had contacted the guy. I mentally facepalmed. Why did I have to go to bed early and miss Stacy’s message? I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. There was no way I’d be getting back to sleep any time soon.

When I was five years old, my grandma gave me a little china gnome with a long, white beard and bright red conical hat covering his eyes. His bulbous nose stuck out above his full mustache, and he was holding up a bright, green Christmas ornament. Five-year-old me thought it was ugly, but my Swedish mormor was so happy for me to have it. It had been hers when she was a child. Every year after that, another ugly gnome was added to the collection, given to me by mormor. I had accumulated twenty of them before she passed away.

Now I treasured them, and added more each year, continuing the tradition in her honor. I’d even found a small online community of collectors, and we regularly traded pictures of our collections and latest acquisitions. We also sent each other links to auctions or sales posts we thought someone else might be interested in, especially if it was a gnome we already had.

I was beyond thrilled Stacy had thought of me and sent the link. I clicked on the TV and opened Candy Crush on my tablet. Since I was too worked up to sleep, I figured I might as well entertain myself. Around 4:30 am, my phone pinged with another notification. I grabbed it, wondering what it was so early. It was the seller replying to my message. My tablet fell to the side, and I tapped open the message immediately.

Pending pickup

Crap!

Crap fuck shit!

FUCK FUCK CRAPPITY FUCK!

Thank you. Please let me know if the sale falls through for any reason. I hit ‘send’ and flopped back on the bed.

My day was ruined before it even started.

***

“Well, someone’s in a mood today,” Janet stated as she handed me a piece of paper.

I frowned. “Great. What does her royal highness want now?” Our boss was the very definition of micromanager, and we were beyond sick of it. The combination of work stress, plus missing out on the gnomes, had me in a foul mood.

Janet snickered. “All’s quiet on that front, for the moment, thank goodness. It’s the sign up for the holiday potluck.”

“Oh! Now that, I’m interested in!” I grinned as I looked at the list. I loved cooking. And it was a great excuse to take a break from work and look up recipes.

“So what will you bring this year? Everyone’s still talking about those Swedish meatballs you brought last year. Hint, hint.” She winked.

I laughed. “That was my mormor’s recipe. But you know I don’t like to bring the same thing twice. I’ll see what strikes my fancy this year.”

She pouted. “You could make an exception in this case. Those meatballs were so good!”

I made a ‘shooing’ motion with my hands. “My muse needs quiet to think.”

Janet bowed in mock reverence. “I won’t disturb your creative process.” She turned and walked out of my office, giggling.

I didn’t need to do a Google search to know what I’d be bringing. I’d already decided weeks ago. But I would troll the internet for new recipes to try over the weekend. Work could wait. Gotta have priorities, ya know.

I drummed my fingers on my desk and looked at the clock. I huffed out my breath. My work was done, but I had about a half hour before my day ‘officially’ ended. Even though I was a salaried employee, with the ability to make my own schedule, my bosses kept an eye on the hours I worked, and I got my hand slapped if I left early, even though my work was all done. Yeah, doesn’t make sense to me either.

My phone pinged, indicating a message. My heart about leapt out of my chest when I saw it was from the guy selling the Christmas gnomes.

Sale fell through. The buyer never showed up. A few people messaged me, so I sent out multiple messages. I’m not holding them for anyone. First one here can get them. Message me for my address if you’re still interested. I’m near the mall.

Oh. My. God. The mall was about five minutes down the road!

What’s your address? I can be there in ten minutes.

My hands shook as I shut down my computer, then grabbed my coat and put it on. I snatched my work satchel from the hook and headed out the door. I popped my head into Janet’s office. “I’m heading out. See you tomorrow!”

I didn’t wait for a response.

My phone pinged. The guy had sent me his address.

On ym wya. I didn’t even bother correcting my typos.

Ok. I’ll keep an eye out for you, he almost instantly responded.

I jogged to my car and sped out of the parking lot. I had to be careful to avoid getting a speeding ticket. The five minute drive felt like it took forever. Of course, I had to hit all the lights red. I pulled up in front of a cute little cape. It had shaker shingles and beige siding. The snow and icicles hanging off the roof, made it look like it belonged on a Christmas card. I bet it looked even prettier when the Christmas lights were lit.

I got out of my car and headed up the well-shoveled driveway. A guy about my age opened the side door and smiled. “You must be Isak.”

Damn… Christmas gnomes for a bargain price and a hot guy. I must have won the Christmas lottery!

“Yeah, nice to meet you.” I reached into my back pocket for my wallet. “So fifty bucks, right?”

“Yup. These things used to belong to my grandma. She was from Sweden and just loved them. I inherited them, but they never really ‘spoke’ to me, ya know?”

I laughed. “So was my mormor. She gave me my first one when I was five. I hated it. And she gave me one every Christmas after that. It’s funny, but I never particularly liked them until after she passed. Then it just didn’t feel like Christmas unless I bought a Swedish gnome.” My heart thudded in my chest. I wasn’t sure if it was from the excitement of getting the gnomes, or the cutie selling them.

Probably both.

He looked at me for a minute, then opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to change his mind and closed it. He glanced inside, then back at me. It looked like he was contemplating something. “Come on in. It’s freezing out there, and you can inspect them, if you want.”

I smiled. “Sure.”

He held the door for me, and I stepped inside a spacious kitchen. There was a plastic bin on top of the kitchen table.

“I’m Elias, by the way.”

“Isak.”

Elias gestured toward the bin. “There they are.”

I grinned. My hands shook as I opened the lid. Nestled inside were my treasures, wrapped individually in newspaper.

“Are you still cold? I can make you a cup of cocoa, if you want.” He shifted his feet. “Don’t worry. I’m not a serial killer or anything. I promise not to poison it.” He laughed nervously.

I raised an eyebrow. “Uh… no thanks?”

Damn this guy was cute. I had a thing for blue-eyed blonds. Maybe because I’d always wished I’d inherited my mother’s looks instead of my father’s. I’d read news articles about wackos selling stuff, so figured it might not be a good idea to accept the cocoa. Even though I wanted to. Not that I thought this guy was a wacko. Well, probably not, anyway.

I closed the lid. “I don’t need to inspect them. The pics were fine.” I opened my wallet and fished out the fifty dollars. “Here you go.”

He took the money. His face was bright red, contrasting with his light hair, and made his sky blue eyes stand out even more. “Sorry. I was kidding around. Not everyone gets my sense of humor.”

I smiled. “It was funny.”

He exhaled, and his face lightened a few shades. “Uh… maybe we could meet somewhere else for a cup of cocoa sometime. Or coffee. Or tea. Or whatever you drink. Sorry… I babble when I’m nervous. We can exchange stories about our Swedish grandmas.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

He grinned. “Awesome. How about tomorrow?”

“Sure. Have you ever been to Coffee Spots? They have great drinks there and good soup and sandwiches too.”

“Sounds perfect. I know right where that is.”

“Great. See you 7:00 tomorrow?”

He nodded. “It’s a date.” His eyes widened, and he looked at me nervously.

I winked. “Definitely a date.”

He grinned as I grabbed the bin.

*****

“Kielbasa and pierogi? What happened to the Swedish meatballs?” Janet asked, pouting.

“I’m half Polish. This recipe is really good. I always get rave reviews,” I replied, smiling.

“I’m sure it’s amazing, since you made it.”

I set the crock pot down on the table and plugged it in.

“Well you’ve sure been a good mood lately. Did you get bit by the Christmas spirit or something?”

I grinned. “Or something.”

“Ooooo… sounds like there’s a story there. What’s his name?” She winked.

“Elias,” I said, then walked away.

“Oh you cannot just walk away from me after that!” She jogged after me. “So… details?”

“Well, we’ve gone on a couple of dates so far, and I really like him. No details other than that. Right now, anyway.”

“You should bring him to the party on Saturday.”

I shook my head. “Nah. Too early for that. But hopefully I’ll bring him next year.”

Potluck Pierogi

· 3 packages mini pierogi

· 3 cups of chicken broth

· 1 block cream cheese, softened

· 2 pounds kielbasa

· Salt, pepper, garlic powder

· 1 small package shredded cheddar cheese

1. Slice kielbasa into rounds and brown in a sauté pan until carmelized.

2. Heat some of the chicken broth and add in the cream cheese until incorporated. You can skip this step if you’re in a hurry.

3. Place all ingredients in crockpot and stir until combined.

4. Cook on low for 4-5 hours.

5. Enjoy!

*note- the pierogi will absorb all the chicken broth and get a bit soft and mushy. You can brown the pierogi before putting them in the crockpot, which should make them a bit less mushy. The mushiness doesn’t detract from the dish though. It’s always a hit whenever I make this. You may have to add a little more chicken broth as it cooks, depending on how much the pierogi absorbs.