Christmas in Australia doesn’t arrive on the back of sleigh bells. It comes barefoot, a little sunburnt, with salt still in your hair and the cicadas doing their best to drown out the neighbourhood carols.
If you’re the one hosting lunch, you already know the truth: nobody really wants a stifling roast while the day sways into the high thirties. What people want is a table that looks like Summer felt - bright, abundant, spilling over. A Christmas lunch that’s more garden party than gift exchange.
Call it A Very Garden Christmas: an Australian Summer table in full bloom. The kind of lunch where the centrepiece is a crate of heirloom tomatoes, not a ham glazed within an inch of its life.
Start at the market early, while the air is still cool and the stone fruit has a blush you could write poems about. Let the produce choose the menu instead of the other way around. When you come home with bags heavy with tomatoes striped in crimson and gold, zucchini the size of your forearm, figs that feel like velvet and herbs so fragrant they perfume the whole kitchen, you’ve already won.
Set the scene like you’re setting out a picnic for people you adore
A linen tablecloth that can handle a splash of Verdelho. Mismatched plates. A jug of greenery picked five minutes ago - lemon leaves, rosemary, maybe a cheeky spray of bougainvillea. Keep it elegant but relaxed, like you’re saying: stay as long as you like. Put the presents somewhere sensible, like a back room. This lunch is about what’s in season, not what’s in a bag.
Pour Summer into glasses
Lemon verbena cocktails are basically sunshine with a dash of mischief. Muddle lemon verbena leaves with a spoon of sugar, add a squeeze of lemon, plenty of ice and top with gin and soda (or sparkling water if you’re keeping it gentle). Float a thin wheel of cucumber or a tiny sprig of verbena on top. They look like garden jewels and taste like Christmas decided to take a holiday.
Let vegetables do the flirtation
Marinated zucchini ribbons are the kind of side dish that makes people pause mid-conversation. Use a peeler to shave zucchini into long, translucent strips. Toss with olive oil, lemon zest, a whisper of garlic, sea salt, cracked pepper and mint.
Leave them to curl and soften while you do literally anything else. Serve on a big platter with ricotta salty enough to make them sing and a shower of toasted almonds. It’s fresh, light and just fancy enough to feel special.
Build a tomato altar
Slice those heirloom beauties thickly. Arrange them like a colour wheel. Add torn burrata or a soft goats’ cheese, basil leaves the size of your palm and a drizzle of something fruity - olive oil, balsamic, maybe a honey that tastes faintly of eucalyptus. It’s not a salad so much as a statement: look what Summer can do.
If you want a main, keep it breezy. Grilled prawns with lime and chilli. A whole fish rubbed with herbs and cooked until it flakes in sweet, clean layers, or a platter of cold roast chicken dressed up with peaches, rocket and a buttery vinaigrette. Nothing that makes you sweat in the kitchen while everyone else floats in the shade.
End with figs, because Christmas deserves drama
Fresh fig desserts are the easiest way to make people feel spoiled. Halve the figs, grill them quickly until they caramelise at the edges, then pile into bowls with thick Greek yoghurt or mascarpone. Add honey, a crack of black pepper and a scatter of pistachios. If you’re feeling festive, add a splash of orange blossom water. It tastes like a secret garden.
Somewhere between the second round of cocktails and the third helping of tomatoes, you’ll notice something lovely: people are lighter. There’s no food coma, no frantic timetable, no sense of performing tradition for tradition’s sake. Just a table full of produce, friends leaning in and the soft, sticky miracle of Summer Christmas.
Let the ham rest this year. Let the tinsel stay in its box. The garden’s already done the decorating. All you have to do is invite everyone to the table.
