If you’ve clicked on this story hoping for a two-paragraph tirade about how dry and objectionable mince pies are, nope – sorry! Mince pies are awesome. Fruity little parcels of warming spice, perfect for an afternoon snack or post-dinner treat. Some are better than others, of course, but there’s no such thing as a bad mince pie, only not enough custard or ice-cream to pile on top of it.

I’ll also go in to bat for pudding and Christmas cake (hold the icing) and, yes, panettone, particularly when there’s zabaglione, brandy and Bing Crosby on the side. See also: shortbread, panforte and Germany’s glazed lebkuchen biscuits. If Danish butter cookies count as Christmas biscuits, I’m here all day for those blue tins, too.

But there are several Australian Christmas traditions I can’t get my head around. Reindeer ears on cars. A Santa Claus in board shorts throwing Minties from a fire truck. Daryl Somers singing at Carols by Candlelight. As for festive food and booze that doesn’t make sense …

Eggnog

I mean, you can’t say it tastes bad – more or less a rum milkshake meets creme anglaise – but a glass-and-a-half of eggnog will destroy the best of us on Christmas Day. The negroni is a much lighter cocktail (at least kilojoule-wise) to set you up for a long lunch, while a rye whiskey Old Fashioned remains the ultimate Christmas drink. It’s got the right mix of spice, kick and sweetness, plus a bonus dash of festive orange. Eggnog is a meal unto itself.

Apple sauce

When you’re bored with cranberry sauce, you’re bored with Christmas. The store-bought stuff is a weird and gloopy jam, but also strangely delicious, and one of the most valuable players on a Boxing Day sandwich. Apple sauce, however, is cold and wet and for toothless infants. Sure, you can make a good one from scratch, but wouldn’t you just prefer more gravy?

Candy canes

Like the gingerbread house and five-year-old children, candy canes should be seen but not eaten. Your reward for removing the impossibly tight wrapper (“does anyone have long fingernails?” ) is 20 minutes of navigating a weird, sticky shape that your tongue never quite knows what to do with.

Oysters mornay

Oysters at Christmas are as non-negotiable as prawns, ham and Chevy Chase. But I’ll never understand the oddball Australian tradition of topping Sydney rocks with sludgy roux and cheese. (Yes, I know “mornay” has its roots in France, but the French are using gruyere, not Bega Tasty.) Oysters Kilpatrick are brilliant, though, and pretty much the best thing to pair with pink champagne to kick off Christmas lunch.

White Christmas

When I need to focus, I don’t ponder the sound of one hand clapping. I ruminate on what vegetable shortening-laced Rice Bubbles treat I would rather eat less – the white Christmas or the chocolate crackle? The latter tastes like fossilised Coco Pops, but the former has those cloying glacé cherries and tacky bits of dried fruit that get stuck in your molars. In any case, I’ll take either over a honey joy.

Christmas beers

Breweries bloody love to release toasty stouts and hop-heavy ales for the holidays, usually pulsing with sultana, cinnamon and rum flavours, and just about anything else you might find in a Christmas pudding. Terrific stuff when you’re in Oregon or Denmark and chestnuts are literally roasting on a fire, but you would be hard-pressed to find a less suitable drink for the Australian summer (eggnog excepted).

Pigs in blankets

Bacon is delicious (duh), and who doesn’t love a good chipolata? Together at once, though, it’s a hat on a hat. It’s Godzilla versus Mothra. It’s spaghetti on toast. Americans avoid the grease overload (in this instance, anyway) by swaddling their sausage pigs in a pastry blanket instead of more pig. For a country obsessed with pastry, pork and dipping things in sauce, why the United States has never embraced the actual sausage roll is something we may never understand.

Marzipan

I have the same relationship with marzipan that I do with contemporary art. I’m never quite sure what it is, and I can’t recall if I like it. But after one bite of a moulded Santa or sugar-dusted “fruit”, the memories come flooding back. “Oh, that’s right – this edible Play-Doh of uncooked almonds, sugar and egg white is godawful stuff.”