When Andy Williams sang that it’s the most wonderful time of the year, I assume he was talking about Christmas sandwich season. As the days grow shorter and the jumpers thicker, the meal deal gets a festive upgrade. Pushed to the back of the shelves are the limp ploughman’s and soggy falafel wraps, replaced instead with turkey and the trimmings, pigs in blankets and stuffing, and some enviable veggie alternatives. If you’re looking to bring a little festive cheer to the sad desk lunch, there’s no easier way to do it. But a spectre haunts the chiller cabinet, floating among the Innocent smoothies and that mystifying single boiled egg in a plastic pot. This Ghost of Christmas (Sandwich) Present is red and wobbly, smearing itself across every vaguely Christmassy sandwich it finds. I’m talking, of course, about cranberry sauce, a condiment used to signpost festive offerings, regardless of whether it tastes nice. No one is safe. Not Boots sandwiches. Not Greggs pasties. Not posh Pret toasties. While I’ve spent my adult life loosening myself from the meal deal’s claw-like grip, I’m willing to make an exception for the Christmas offerings. But a peruse of the supermarkets this year showed that every option comes smothered with cranberry, from turkey to falafel (yes, even at Christmas, some shops can’t think of a more imaginative veggie option than falafel). It’s not looking better at the fancier establishments, either. On paper, Costa’s vegan “turkey and trimmings” sandwich sounds like my dream lunch. You’ve got fake turkey, stuffing, fried onions, mayo… great! But then a slick of cranberry sauce. Criminal. In theory, you’d think the infallible formula of “bread + Christmas dinner + more bread” would be impossible to ruin. But cranberry sauce gives it a damn good try. Including just one thick, sweet layer of the stuff overpowers the already strong flavours that should shine on their own. Call me old fashioned, but rarely do I tuck into a nice, savoury sarnie, enjoying the different tastes and textures, and think, you know what would make this better? Jam. To be clear, I’m not wholly anti-cranberry. There are places it’s appropriate: with vodka or, at a push, on top of some brie. I’m not even anti-cranberry sauce when it comes to Christmas dinner, in a splodge on the side of my plate for the items that suit it. But when it’s smeared over a sandwich, nothing else stands a chance. I can see why sandwich makers turn to cranberry sauce so regularly. Whether it’s turkey or a veggie alternative, a festive sandwich can be a pretty dry affair. But surely there must be a better moist-maker. Gravy? Mayonnaise? Gravy-mayonnaise? (Sounds heinous; actually pretty good). Hell, I’m even pro-butter in this situation, although I can accept that that’s not very Christmassy. Big Cranberry’s dominance is mostly frustrating because the options get better and more varied every year (especially for non-meat eaters), but the red stuff just seems to be inescapable. This year, I’ll be begging Santa that we’re released from its grasp. Read More Beauty advent calendars 2021: Our guide to this year’s top treats 13 best tech gifts to spoil a gadget geek this Christmas 10 best luxury Christmas crackers for dressing up your dining table

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Defining Dishes is an IndyEats column that explores the significance of food at key moments in our lives. From recipes that have been passed down for generations, to flavours that hold a special place in our hearts, food shapes every part of our lives in ways we might not have ever imagined. As a teenager growing up in Hungary, the summer school holidays were usually spent at home because my parents were still working. They would leave us a list of house chores we needed to do before they left for work in the morning, and it included cooking our own meals, so I learned at an early age that I really enjoy cooking. I love cooking traditional Hungarian food, but I was also keen to experiment with other recipes and there was one day when I was looking for something to cook for that evening, just anything. My friends and I would go to the local library regularly, and on this day, I went and found an old cookbook in the food section. It looked about a hundred years old, it was falling apart, some pages were missing and others were stuck together. But I browsed through it and found a cake recipe involving plums soaked in rum that I thought sounded delicious. The recipe was incomplete because of the state of the book, but I wrote it down in my notebook anyway because it sounded good and I really wanted to try it. I resolved to make it for our dessert that evening. I went to the supermarket and went to search for all the ingredients for the cake. What I wasn’t expecting at the time was how expensive they would be – thinking back now, it makes sense that rum, plums and vanilla would not come cheap, but I was young and didn’t really know the price of things like that. It turned out to be quite an expensive shop, particularly for a 16-year-old using her own pocket money, but I didn’t mind too much as I was convinced it would be great! I got home and started getting ready to cook. It was around this time that I realised just how incomplete the recipe was. It confused me – for example, it seemed to call for just milk and eggs in the batter, there was no flour. But I pressed on and told myself that the recipe writers surely knew what they were doing. I mixed everything in a bowl and it was very, very liquidy, almost like water, which worried me. I poured the batter into a pan and into the oven it went. Now, the recipe said it would only take 20 minutes to cook. But as much as I wanted to trust the recipe, this part made me doubtful because of how liquid the batter was. So I waited and waited, but it remained stubbornly liquid. I wasn’t even sure if it would be edible. After an hour and a half of waiting, I used the toothpick method to see if it was cooked. I inserted the toothpick into the middle of the cake and when I removed it, it was sticky but no batter was left on it, so it looked like it might be OK to take it out. By this time, I had used so much electricity and energy that I was anxious to get it out of the oven. I took it out and left it on the kitchen counter to cool down. I told myself: “Maybe it will be solid by the time I come back.” It did smell amazing because of the vanilla and rum and plums, almost like Christmas cake that filled the house. But to be honest, I had a bad feeling about it. It looked horrendous, the most disgusting-looking cake I had ever seen. At least it looked solid, so I thought OK, that seems fine-ish. After a while, I figured it had cooled down enough so I tried to get it out of the tin. I had used a cake tin that you push up from the bottom to release the cake. While I was pushing the bottom, I don’t know what happened, but the cake slipped and the whole thing just fell onto its face on the floor. I remember standing there for a moment and thinking, I just spent a bloody fortune on this cake and it’s fallen in the dirt on the floor. I rushed to my room in tears, I just couldn’t deal with it. I was so sad. My 18-year-old brother had been in his room the whole time and heard me slamming my door. He must have wondered what happened because I heard him come out of his room and go downstairs to the kitchen. I stayed in my room for a little while feeling sorry for myself, before pulling myself together and heading back out to go and clean up the mess I made. I went down the stairs and I kid you not, saw the funniest scene before my eyes. My brother was on his knees in the kitchen, literally eating the cake from off the floor. I said: “What the hell are you doing?” He told me it smelled and tasted amazing, he couldn’t resist. It reminded me of the Friends episode “The One with All The Cheesecakes”, because there is a scene where Rachel and Chandler are eating cheesecake off the floor in their hallway. It was hilarious that it was happening to me in real life. I didn’t join my brother on the floor, but I did try a little bit of the cake once we picked it up from the floor. It was really tasty even though it wasn’t quite done, but it wasn’t the total failure I thought it was going to be. He offered to get me more eggs so I could try and recreate it again. The next time I made it, I made some adjustments and it turned out bloody amazing. Now, after a lot of experimenting and tweaking the original recipe, I’ve kind of mastered it. It is still expensive to make, so I decided I would only make it for celebrations and for Christmas. I even entered my recipe in an online competition. One of the prizes was a Jamie Oliver cookbook and my dad absolutely adored him. I enlisted his help to submit my entry because I didn’t have a laptop at the time, and it turned out to be a fun thing for us to do together. Some time later, I checked my email and found out I won the competition! Both Dad and I were stunned because I was worried my recipe was too complicated and nobody would want to make it. When we received the book prize, Dad was definitely more pleased than I was. It was a great thing for both of us to do. I genuinely believe that making this cake taught me the power of not giving up. That lesson has followed me throughout my life ever since. I am now an archaeologist living in Glasgow, but it hasn’t been an easy journey. I have had to persist with things even if they don’t go according to plan and keep motivating myself to get here. I think this random cake I picked out of an old book in a library has helped shape my attitude towards life. I’m also really glad my brother ate it off the floor because if he hadn’t, I would never have learned those lessons and maybe, I would be in a very different place today. Evelin Eros is a Hungarian archaeologist living in Glasgow. She makes her rum cake every Christmas and for other special occasions. 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The moment the first crates of English sparkling wine were pulled up from the depths of the Arctic Ocean off the coast of Sandnessjøen, Tani Gurra, the director of beverages for Norway’s Hurtigruten Coastal Express, shed a tear. Or so I’m told – I’m currently watching the raising of the third crate of wine from a boat alongside other members of the press. Prior to this bright but teeth-chatteringly cold day, all 1,700 bottles had been sitting 30 metres below the surface of the Arctic Ocean for six months, the first time any wine has been aged in these waters. It’s an exciting day for the Hurtigruten team and Rathfinny Wine Estate, the Sussex winery where the bottles have been sourced. Husband and wife team Mark and Sarah Driver are here, watching the dark bottles of their 2018 classic cuvee emerge from black Nordic waters. Everyone is anxious to see if they have survived their time under immense (43.5psi) pressure. To our relief, every bottle and wax-sealed cork ascend intact. Love wine but don’t know where to start? The Independent Wine Club features curated cases from small growers and expert advice on how to enjoy wine. Sign up now for free. Around 24 hours before this jubilant moment, I found myself on a Hurtigruten ship, sailing from the Lofoten archipelago to Tromsø. With it being late spring, we were quickly approaching midnight sun territory; at 12am, we were invited onto the deck to view the majestic Trollfjord. But instead of the pitch black of midnight, we were surrounded by the distinct blueness of twilight. The remaining snowcaps on the fjord almost glowed in the dark. Even though it’s been around for 130 years, Hurtigruten struggles to define itself – it’s not a ferry, despite ferrying thousands of Norwegians from town to town along the coast, nor is it a cruise, despite giving tourists who spend days fjord-watching a rather luxurious experience. Several times throughout the trip, people would ask: “So is it a cruise or a ferry?” And each time, the answer was something along the lines of: “It’s sort of both, and neither.” The ships have immense charm, despite their neither-here-nor-there status. The number of passengers each one can take varies, but the MS Nordkapp, on which I am sailing, boasts capacity for up to 590 passengers, around 480 of which can book cabins if they want to join 12-day voyages that will take them to numerous ports along the way. They are nowhere near as large as the behemoth cruiseliners that groan with the weight of on-board casinos, theme parks, ballrooms and spas, burping and farting tons of chemicals into the ocean. Hurtigruten’s fleet is tiny in comparison and each vessel has a limited number of facilities: two small hot tubs in lieu of a spa, a gym, a cafe with a bakery and an ice cream bar, a fine dining restaurant, and a bar with panoramic views of the outside world. From June, the ships will offer passengers hankering after a glass of bubbly a taste of their sea-sunken sparkling. The collaboration between Hurtigruten and Rathfinny is part of its 130th anniversary celebrations, but the goal is to make the wine their house sparkling. The classic cuvee is the estate’s “house-style” Sussex sparkling and gained critical acclaim almost immediately after it hit the market. The Independent named it the best classic cuvee in 2022 and described it as “exemplary English winemaking”, noting “precise flavours of citrus and apricots and hints of cream”. But sinking the bottles is something Rathfinny has never tried before, until now. It was Gurra’s idea. He and Andre Petterson, vice president of hotel operations at Hurtigruten, decided to give the method a shot after seeing news that a group of divers found 168 bottles of French champagne on an underwater shipwreck in 2010. The bottles, discovered in the Baltic Sea, were 170 years old and had spent decades in what could have been a watery grave – but instead turned out to be the perfect temperature-controlled cellar for ageing wine. “I started thinking and talking about it, and thought, ‘Why not? Why can’t we do something like this? The Arctic Sea is a part of us, and we already source food from all along the coast of Norway,” Gurra tells me. “For us, the fjords are fish stocks, the mountains are our vegetable and herb gardens. Why not the sea for wine?” But Norway is better known for its spirits, not its wine. They cast their eyes towards England, from which a significant portion of their passengers hail, and landed on Rathfinny. It is rather poetic that the Rathfinny Wine Estate has on its label the Seven Sisters – the iconic chalk sea cliffs that make the Sussex coastline so recognisable. The location where they’ve chosen to age their wines has its own Seven Sisters: a mountain range on the island of Alsten in Alstahaug Municipality. Mark and Sarah are buzzing to show off their label and the unexpected connection with Norway during the uncorking of their wines. Mark says: “We are really proud to showcase Sussex in Norway. English wines have been making a name for themselves and it really is something special for us to be on Hurtigruten ships, especially as they are really popular with English tourists.” I had the chance to taste the Rathfinny classic cuvee before and after the undersea ageing process. The before-wine was a lovely, dry sparkling; my notes read “sharp bubbles, fruity”. It’s easy to see why it’s a firm favourite among wine-lovers, considering its versatility and ease of drinking. How could six months underwater possibly change it, I wondered? During the uncorking, I am pleasantly surprised. The time the wine has spent in the sea has made it somehow rounder, gentler on the tongue. Gurra describes it as having a more “feminine touch” and being “softer, smoother” to drink. Nikolai Haram Svorte, who was crowned Norway’s best sommelier this year, was invited to be the first to try the wine and give his verdict. Against a steely grey sky, he sabered the first bottle and tasted a glass, declaring it “the start of something truly exciting”. He added: “The wine has retained more freshness than I anticipated. From the refreshing citrus tones to a mineral salty finish, like an oyster, it’s clear to me that this hugely intriguing experiment has revealed a unique setting to store and age sparkling wine.” My own feeling is that the newly aged bubbles will be a big hit among passengers of Hurtigruten. The softer mouthfeel makes it even easier to drink, and I can envision clinking glasses while watching Norway’s majestic landscape float past. 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Mercedes boss Toto Wolff says Lewis Hamilton bucked the trend by apologising after an incident in Sunday’s Italian Grand Prix, insisting the rest of the F1 grid “complains and moans to try and not get a penalty.” Hamilton admitted he was at fault for a collision with McLaren’s Oscar Piastri at Monza – he received a five-second time penalty as a result – and apologised to the Australian after the race. Wolff, who stated that Max Verstappen’s 10th win in a row was “completely irrelevant”, concurred with Hamilton’s analysis and made a sharp dig at the rest of the field in the process. “Lewis is very sportsmanlike with these things – and he is the only one that I see out there admitting, saying that he’s wrong,” Wolff told media after the race. “We just had a chat and he said ‘I didn’t see him on the right and that is on me’. And I think that kind of sportsmanship is what you need to admire with him. “Pretty much everyone else is complaining and moaning just to try to not get a penalty. “These things happen. It was hard racing to overtake here and we’ve seen a few of these. It [the penalty] was justified.” Ultimately, the penalty had no impact on Hamilton who finished sixth, while the clash cost Piastri a top-10 finish after he had to pit for a new front nose, dropping him down the order. He finished 12th. Hamilton said: “I misjudged the gap I had with Piastri right at the end. It was totally my fault. “I apologised to him straight afterwards and we move on.” Piastri, though disappointed with the race-impacting clash, seemed satisfied with Hamilton’s apology. “He creeped over a bit more than he thought,” Piastri said. “The stewards gave their verdict and Lewis apologised and nothing more I can ask for or do at that point.” Hamilton’s team-mate, George Russell, finished fifth in an indifferent weekend for Mercedes in Monza after the pair signed new contracts until the end of the 2025 season. Read More FIA reveal results of 2022 F1 cost cap process Toto Wolff blunt in response to Max Verstappen’s ‘irrelevant’ record Alex Albon, James Vowles and the start of a Williams renaissance FIA announce results of 2022 F1 cost cap process F1 2023 race schedule: When is the Singapore Grand Prix? Damon Hill unimpressed by Toto Wolff’s dismissal of Max Verstappen’s record win