What’s that? Is that the sound of sleigh bells ringing out over the skies of California? No, that would be the release of a new episode of With Love, Meghan. The Duchess of Sussex’s Netflix series is back with a very special holiday episode, where Meghan Markle once again lulls me into a peaceful state of euphoria as I watch her construct the perfect Christmas — everything beautifully prim and proper. I can do it, too, she assures. I, too, can put the Santa in Santa Barbara by showing up to a holiday party with intricately wrapped gifts and a decorative hand-painted plate of hand-painted Christmas cookies, having hand-painted them both myself. But can I? After cooking my way through the show upon the release of its first season à la Julie & Julia, I’m back to once again see just how attainable Markle’s perfect, pricey Montecito lifestyle is in my tiny studio apartment with limited resources and patience. Why put myself through this, you might wonder? Well, her recipes proved incredibly successful last time, but more importantly, I’m trying to get her attention so she’ll put me on the PR list for her preserves.
The Christmas special, by and large, is exactly what you’d want. Minutes in, she’s already hitting us with puns about fondue (a dish she’s not even making). “You’ve never heard anyone say ‘fon-don’t,’” she says, coyly smiling at her own comedic genius. She’s having the time of her life, and by proxy, so am I. She loves hosting and making hostess gifts; I love going places and being given gifts. We’re a perfect match. It’s Nancy Meyers meets Martha Stewart, but with more wordplay and more earnest sentimentality about the joy of putting care into things. She’s joined by the likes of Naomi Osaka and Tom Colicchio and fills airtime with incredible musings like, “I actually really like a seasonal wreath.” Per usual, I’m in heaven watching her draw holly on plates, decorate cookies with almond-extract watercolors, and assemble not one but two wreaths (one real and one made out of crudités, as she is wont to do). But will I have as much fun trying my own hand at some of her (albeit simpler) projects?
Christmas crackers
If, unlike Meghan, you don’t have a somewhat notable connection to the United Kingdom, allow me to explain: These are tiny wrapped gifts that you pull apart at the dinner table, revealing little treats and toys. She expects me to make one of these things out of rolled-up card stock, wrapping paper, and, most importantly, a firecracker-like device that snaps when pulled apart.
So I trekked to the Michaels in Brooklyn, which this time of year looks as if a bomb has just gone off inside. But despite that appearance, the craft store doesn’t sell the explosive I desperately desire for this craft, so I’ll simply have to sacrifice some theatrically and go without.
We start with rolled-up card stock, and I just know deep in my soul that a toilet-paper roll would be so much easier, but Meghan would never dare bring anything involving the word “toilet” onto this show. That then needs to be filled with goodies and covered in wrapping paper that seems to be cut into a very elaborate pattern, which Meg just breezes right over. I research that pattern myself and ultimately cut diamonds into the paper so it’ll be possible to cinch each side with a ribbon.
Sure, I broke a sweat meticulously cutting out said pattern, lost my scissors no less than five separate times, and may or may not have shed blood — but all in all, the end result was a success. Will it pull apart as it’s supposed to? There’s simply no way of knowing because it looks too good to destroy, so I’m quitting while I’m ahead. My holiday guests can look (and compliment my artistry), but they can’t touch.
Reindeer chow
In a gorgeous display of duality, the first two dishes Meghan prepares are cacio e pepe gougères and reindeer chow, so you can imagine which one I think I might be able to handle. But despite the simplicity of reindeer chow (a.k.a. puppy chow in the offseason), which Meghan hammers home by saying she used to make it in elementary school, the challenge comes via her insistence on never giving out measurements. That’s one of my favorite parts of this seemingly instructional series: Its purpose is actually to make these recipes vicariously through her. And yet, here I am.
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But before I can even start trying to follow along, I realize I’ve hit an obstacle: I don’t have a microwave-safe bowl big enough to melt the chocolate chips in (and even if I did, I question whether it would fit in my tiny microwave). You might be thinking that I should simply make a smaller portion, but what you fail to understand is that, to make this, I had to buy a whole box of Rice Chex cereal, which is completely inedible when not smothered in melted chocolate and powdered sugar. So instead, I think on my feet and melt the chocolate on the stove using the much more complex and advanced double-boiler method.
But just as I’m riding high from that improvisation, it comes time to add the Chex to the melted mixture of chocolate, peanut butter, and butter before it cools. Like Meghan does, I toss them in with my hands and immediately cry out as the hot concoction scorches me. I should have made the gougères.
The cereal instantly shatters under the weight of the rapidly hardening chocolate, crackling like my joints with each toss. Ah, this was what that fucking Christmas cracker was supposed to sound like!
Meghan sifts in a generous helping of powdered sugar, but naturally, I do not have a sifter on hand because I am not a Rockefeller. Dumping it in will have to do, and voilà. Try as I might, it’s simply an impossible recipe to mess up.
Gift wrapping
’Tis the season of schlepping to your family’s abode with suitcases full of wrapped gifts like you’re Santa if he flew commercial. At first glance, wrapping a present is seemingly the easiest segment in the whole episode — so much so that it perhaps doesn’t warrant me trying my hand at it. And yet, this is what caused me to have a mental breakdown. Because as you can imagine, Meghan doesn’t simply wrap a gift; she sees it as an opportunity to express herself. She speeds through different styles and options so quickly that I can barely keep up: Add a wax seal to it. Stick in a sprig of pine, a mini-wreath, a bell, a “darling” bow. The list goes on and on. But what I’m drawn to is her style of wrapping in which the folds are all made in the same direction, creating an interesting pattern on the front of the gift. Since it’s been established that Meghan doesn’t owe us instructions, I’m largely left to my own devices to recreate this.
I haven’t yet done any Christmas shopping, so I look around my apartment for something I can wrap in the meantime. And there it is: the plain Chex cereal. Perfect. I cut out my wrapping paper and start making folds, but it looks as disgusting as the cereal tastes. I have to take a walk around the block to cool off and regroup. I tear it all off and start from scratch, this time turning to other online guides to solve the mystery of how Meghan got her gift to look the way it did. Finally, we end with something resembling the envelope-like pattern … It’s a Christmas miracle.
While my apartment is now destroyed, covered in melted chocolate, ribbons, powdered sugar, and wrapping paper scraps — our mission was ultimately accomplished. Even this small taste of elevating my holiday experience the Meghan Markle way has given me a new lease on the season. I’m trading in my ugly Christmas sweaters for taupe cashmere, my cards will be sent with a wax seal, and who knows, maybe I’ll even make those cacio e pepe gougères (I won’t). And still on the top of my Christmas list? Her beloved, yet impossible to find, edible flower sprinkles.
