The Cure for Scrooginess: A Hot Martini at Oceanaire

I’ve spent only one Christmas alone — and by "alone," I mean myself and three young kids.

I was recently divorced. My parents were visiting my sister’s family in Philadelphia. And my ex-husband, a "recovering" Catholic and practicing alcoholic at the time, had slid into his annual holiday slump. This is how I found myself in a movie theater Christmas Eve, with my three all lined up and feeling — I’m sure — a lot less melancholy about the situation than I.

In fact, they were very good sports. We went home and had frosted pumpkin bars around our kitchen table then separated and went to bed. The next day, we watched a video and stayed in our pajamas until well past noon. Everyone survived. And yet. . . .It was a little lonely. Even for the four of us clustered together in a tight little snow-covered house. Though we had movies and sugary treats to keep us occupied. Despite the fact that we’re Jewish, for God’s sake!

It is a fact of this ceaselessly commercial and bedecked season that being alone — or even with others but not celebrating — feels odd and empty. Everything is too quiet. Houses are either unoccupied or bursting. All the stores that were jam-packed only 24 hours ago are closed. You can’t go to the gym or the library or the mall. Here in Minnesota, it’s often too cold even to take a walk.

That’s why my family now throws a small party on December 25 for all the people we know who are far from home or sharing kids with an ex-spouse or non-Christians who would ignore the holiday and go to work only their offices are securely closed. (We never give gifts on this day: it’s an irrational but deeply-held principle of mine that the only way to buck the mercenary nature of Christmas is simply to opt out.) And in its more profit-conscious but equally merry way, I’m sure, Oceanaire is doing the same — holding a special dinner on Christmas Eve.

They can’t announce their specials yet, because chef Rick Kimmes doesn’t decide what to feature until the daily fish shipment comes in. But the front of the house is promising a Bing Crosby’s White Christmas theme with vintage holiday songs and hot drinks including buttered rum, eggnog, peppermint patties, hot toddies, and a warm Café con Leche martini made of coffee liqueur, vodka, butterscotch schnapps, and heavy cream.

Now granted, this won’t solve the problem of single mothers or orphans or elderly shut-ins, but if Charles Dickens taught us one thing with his timeless Ebenezer Scrooge it’s that all the money in the world doesn’t stop a man from contemplating his own mortaility in a cold bed alone on Christmas. I suggest our local Ebenezers drop off a donation at Sharing and Caring Hands or some other philanthropic organization before stopping in at Oceanaire for crooned carols, warm food, and a good stiff drink.

And just in case you can’t make it on Christmas Eve, be assured, all these warm winter concoctions will be available at least throughout the holiday season, until the New Year.

Oceanaire is taking reservations up to 11 p.m. on Christmas Eve, 612-333-2277.