Après-ski à la maison

Christmas

Gingham, raclette, mulled wine and a little Alpine nonsense.

Who needs a ski pass when you have a cheese grill, a bottle of something warming and a questionable collection of Christmas jumpers?

Christmas has landed, chalet-style. Across the UK, wooden huts are popping up, serving spiced cider and mulled wine through little hatch windows, with ice rinks, twinkling lights and enough faux fur to kit out an entire ski resort. From Aberdeen to Abergavenny, Belfast to Birmingham and Cardiff to Canterbury, après-ski has arrived. Even The Berkeley has joined in, with rooftop raclette served from a ski gondola.

I love the kitsch, the cheese and the grown adults in reindeer knitwear. So why leave all the fun to the Christmas markets? Bring a little Alpine mischief home. Bring the mountain to your living room. No flights, no lift passes, no queues, no expensive chalet hire. And there's certainly no need to apply for a Swiss passport.

Think 1970s ski lodge, not minimalist Scandi. If it looks like it belongs in a chalet that hasn't been updated since 1976, you're on the right track.

Gingham is not optional. Red and white is the classic, but chocolate brown, tobacco, forest green and cream are equally lovely. A checked tablecloth, a scattering of napkins, tapers or fat candles and a few twinkling lights. Keep the big light firmly off. Nobody needs to see the washing up.

Bring on the raclette. Raclette is essentially dinner and entertainment in one. Nobody needs to make conversation when there's a wheel of molten cheese involved. Melted cheese, little potatoes, cornichons, pickles and crusty bread. Everyone gets involved, nobody disappears into the kitchen, and dinner takes as long as it takes. No raclette machine? A fondue pot or a bubbling Camembert will do very nicely. We're recreating the spirit, not the Alps. Tradition says whoever loses their bread in the fondue owes a forfeit. I'd suggest a rendition of Edelweiss!

Alpine props. Bring out the ceramic cows, the cuckoo clock and anything involving a tiny wooden skier. Dig out retro baubles and perhaps a slightly ridiculous reindeer or two. Good taste can have the evening off.

Take it outside. A garden, terrace, balcony or even a doorstep can become a makeshift mountain retreat. Blankets, a fire pit if you're lucky enough to have one, and a string of festoon lights. Multi-coloured, naturally. Wrap up in woolly hats and scarves, bring out the flasks of mulled wine or hot chocolate and toast marshmallows over the flames. S'mores are very much for grown-ups too. Snow is optional. A little British drizzle is practically compulsory.

The beauty of après-ski is that it's less about the skiing and more about what happens afterwards. The food, the fireside, the friends, the slightly questionable knitwear and the second (or third) glass of something warming.

You don't need a mountain view, a Swiss chalet or even a flake of snow. Just good company, plenty of melted cheese and a willingness to embrace a little Christmas nonsense.

Bad jumpers encouraged. Ski boots optional.

Shopping for a little Alpine something for someone. Secret Santa, stocking fillers or a present for the host: a ski mug, a retro ski bauble or a jar of mulled wine spices all fit the bill. For something a little more substantial, try gingham napkins, a cheese baker or a candleholder. And for the person who has absolutely everything? A cuckoo clock, naturally.

Questions