Paul was doing the cooking for Christmas dinner and, per my request, did his rustic mushroom pie and savory nut roast.

Nut roast.

Look it up. Seriously, you’re going to have to look it up.

If I had a dollar for everyone who’s asked, with an undertone of mockery, “Nut roast? What on earth is nut roast?” I could stop writing columns and just lie in bed and eat it every day while washing it down with gluhwein.

Gluhwein — just, never mind.

All I had to do was produce the dessert.

As my sister was coming for Christmas dinner, I wanted to prepare a trifle, as it was traditional to our English family household and is awfully good.

Now, let me say right here that I do not use the imported “Bird’s Eye Custard” or make it from scratch.

No, I cheat and ladle in instant vanilla pudding over the sponge “lady fingers” that both sandwich Damson Jam preserves and line the bottom of the bowl. They are then drenched with a glug of booze — in this instance, cream sherry.

“You’re looking for cooking sherry?” asked the manager of Ingles when I was doing last minute shopping on Christmas Eve and couldn’t find it in the wine and beer display.

“Cooking sherry doesn’t contain alcohol, right?” I replied, walking toward the designated aisle with him.

“No, it doesn’t,” he said, as if reassuring me.

I stopped and stared at him for a beat.

“Then what’s the point of that?” I asked, and left to hit up an ABC store.

On Christmas Day, I gathered all the ingredients together to create my frothy concoction. On the bottom of the pedestal bowl went the sherry- soaked sponge sandwiches and I opened the packets of vanilla pudding, opened the fridge and gasped.

No milk. I’d remembered to buy sherry, but not milk.

“We’ve no milk,” I said to Paul’s back, as he continued processing his nuts for the roast.

“We have almond milk.” he pointed out.

“I don’t think the pudding will set with almond milk,” I said, on the verge of a whimper.

“Maybe not, but it’ll be healthier,” he replied unhelpfully.

It didn’t set.

Well, it sort of set. But not really.

As I spooned it into the bowl, the lady fingers, hit by the yellow tsunami of instant vanilla sludge, began to float to the surface like life rafts. There was no time for corrections.

I do find, however, that adding enough whipped cream will cover a multitude of sins, and added a good 3 inches of that atop the disaster.

It worked. The weight of the whipped cream sunk the sponge, and, for an extra bit of flair, I tossed in a scattering of chocolate drops and sliced strawberries. In the crystal pedestal bowl, it made quite the festive presentation.

Until it was served.

Like an order of eggs over-easy, it spooned out like runny, thick soup, taking all the rest of the ingredients with it. The jam had worked its way free and became quite friendly with the cream sherry. The lady fingers remained islands in a continent of vanilla confection.

But…it was good! It was really, really good. If you closed your eyes, you’d swear Starbuck’s had come up with a Trifle Latte, along with their Mocha Peppermint and Pumpkin Spice seasonal favorites.

So, if you know someone who can’t presently manage solid food, feel free to email me, and I’ll give you the recipe.

It also goes great with a nut roast.