’Tis the season for glossy spreads of gorgeous food content – last-minute feasts for 20 of your closest pals, wonderfully curated Boxing Day buffets, stunning culinary projects. Yet there rarely ever seems to be room for some of my favourite “eating opportunities” over the festive period: the ones where you sit down as a family not around the beautifully laid table, but on the squashy old sofa, dish balanced precariously on your knees, happily relaxed and unphotogenic. (And when I say family, that can mean just you and the dog or the pot plant – in fact, the last is preferable, because it’s very unlikely to spill ketchup on the cushions or talk/bark over the telly.)

Much-maligned bowl food is preferable in such circumstances – something that requires only a fork or a spoon is far easier to tackle on one’s lap. Chilli, in particular, always feels to me like good film fare – Meera Sodha’s protein-packed vegan version is appealing at a time of year when even we omnivores can feel as if we’ve had more than enough meat, thank you – with a big bowl of tortilla chips and guacamole to pass around as you go. Nigel Slater’s quick fish chowder might fit the bill, too, especially if you happen to have smoked fish in the fridge.

Speaking of leftovers, Tom Hunt’s turkey pilaf (pictured top) would fit the bill nicely for a Boxing Day movie extravaganza, as would, ahem, my own turkey curry or Richard Turner’s decadent Monte Cristo sandwich, should you have ham to hand. But I’m getting ahead of myself here – we’re not even at Christmas proper yet, though you’re probably already at that stage when you want something festive that doesn’t require much extra effort. Something like Bancone’s easy-peasy tagliatelle with chestnuts and chervil, for example (before you scroll on by, note that the chervil can be easily substituted with parsley). Or, sticking with the theme, Sam and Sam Clark’s chestnut and chorizo soup or Nigella Lawson’s drunken noodles (no shade here, it’s Christmas).

I’m going to assume you haven’t opened the Christmas sweet things yet, and suggest some puddings that are suitable for consumption while playing charades or watching The Snowman/It’s a Wonderful Knife. Nigel’s tropical fruits in anise syrup look like an exception to my cast-iron rule that a fruit salad doesn’t count as dessert, though I’d be even more delighted to be presented with Yotam Ottolenghi’s caramelised fig Eton mess (I must highlight his suggestion of buying in the meringue element). And although it may not quite count as quick, Jeremy Lee’s gorgeous St Clement’s trifle will also leave you with clementine curd ready for Christmas morning. The simplest idea of all, however, is to stash a tub of good ice-cream in the freezer, assemble a few extra ingredients and leave people to create their own seasonal sundaes.

Wishing you all the joy of the sofa this Christmas. I will see you next year!

My favourite new tradition | In case you missed my sugar cookies a couple of weeks ago – and having taken delivery of a sparkly platter myself last weekend, courtesy of a friend from Ohio – I’d like to remind you of the delightful American (and, I think, originally German) tradition of exchanging cookies at Christmas. Easier than mince pies, and potentially more of a crowdpleaser, they’re a happy thing to create and receive. Here, again, is a little more explanation of the holiday cookie platter as a cultural phenomenon, and some recipe ideas to get you started.

All I want for Christmas | Talking to friends yesterday over my mince pies and a plate of chocolate kisses from Anja Dunk’s lovely book of German festive baking, Advent, we agreed that edible presents that don’t add to the distressing clutter of everyday life in small flats are much appreciated. I would be so very pleased to receive the promise of a box of organic kumquats from a regenerative farm in Granada at harvest time, for instance … if I hadn’t already bought one for myself. Whatever your loved one likes – Avocados! Coffee beans! Hot peppers! – you’re pretty much guaranteed to find it direct from the grower on CrowdFarming and, best of all, you don’t even have to wrap it up yourself.

Lunch is for heroes | Loth as I am to disagree with Kemi Badenoch (honestly), I am firmly team lunch break; eating at my laptop is bad for productivity, plus it’s impossible to avoid mayonnaise on the trackpad. If I lived in Birmingham, I’d be tempted to treat myself to the Harborne Kitchen’s five courses for £55 deal on a Friday. Full disclosure, it’s owned by a friend, but the cooking on my recent visit was clever and assured, and required no nepotism to sell it: just check out the sheer golden beauty of their confit potatoes.

What I’ll be watching | A few suggestions for a few enjoyable hours of watching someone else sweating away in the kitchen: the French film Haute Cuisine, a comedy drama based on the life of President François Mitterrand’s private chef; Stanley Tucci’s legendary Big Night, about two Italians struggling to adapt to American culinary tastes; the stressful but exhilarating Boiling Point (which spawned a BBC series of the same name); the critically acclaimed Mumbai dabbawala drama The Lunchbox; the hilarious ramen-quest Tampopo; and, of course, Ratatouille, because everyone loves a rat in a chef’s hat.