No dish quite represents a new year like a quiche.
Take six eggs, cream, leftover turkey, greedily-bought slices of bacon, threatening-to-wilt herbs, left-on-the-shelf aged cheddar and mix them up in a big, shiny bowl. Then throw in a little bit of the poorly-rationed yogurt your box of muesli deserted, a little nutmeg that's lasted you the entire year, and the watercress from the salad your ambition licked but gut could not consume, and bake the convergent mixture in the hammock of the shortcrust pastry you had as a back-up in the freezer.
This deep dish really is an excuse - a perfectly efficient one - to exercise (and excise) the past months' (for some, past year's) memories, while cleaning out the old (fridge) and satisfying aromatic and gastric cravings.
There was that jar of Dijon mustard that was the accompaniment to a heartbreaking picnic; the fondant that was over the top for the homemade wedding cake; miso used to gussy up a farewell and a homecoming meal; the loving bottle of spiked jam that traveled 7074 kilometres; hot sauce that we were all at once obsessed with...
Some memories we kept; some we tossed; the ones we could salvage to transform into brand new form, we did.
A quiche in the oven makes the new year smell good.