The smell hit you at the door: cigarette smoke, Sterno, and something sweet bubbling in a crockpot while the TV flickered Guy Lombardo in the corner. On the smoked-glass coffee table sat a loaf of something frosted, a hedgehog bristling with toothpicks, and a mold shaped like a fish. This was the party. These were the dishes that showed up every December 31st, held together by gelatin, mayonnaise, and pure confidence. Here are the ones that defined the midnight table.
Please note that some of the images in this article were created with the assistance of AI.
49. The Frosted Bologna Sandwich Loaf Sliced Like Cake
Someone always carried this one in like a birthday cake, and for a second you half expected candles. Then they cut a slice and the layers appeared: egg salad, ham salad, bologna salad, stacked between white bread and sealed in a cream cheese shell. Olives pressed into the top. A dusting of paprika because paprika made everything look finished.
It fed a crowd and held its shape on a card table for hours. The host got something to be quietly proud of. You ate a slice standing up, balancing it on a paper napkin, and reached for another before you’d decided to.
48. The Pineapple-and-Cheese Party Hedgehog
A pineapple, a box of toothpicks, and a block of orange cheddar. That was the whole recipe, and it was genius. You cubed the cheese, speared each piece next to a cocktail onion or a maraschino cherry, and jabbed the picks into the pineapple until it looked like a sea creature. The crown stayed on for drama.
Kids picked at it. Adults picked at it. By 11 p.m. the pineapple looked molted, half its spines gone, and nobody minded one bit. The appetizer that doubled as the centerpiece — which is about the most 1970s thing imaginable.
47. Cheese Fondue Bubbling Around a Sterno Flame
The fondue pot came out of the cabinet exactly once a year, and here was its moment. Swiss and gruyere melted with white wine and a splash of kirsch, kept just barely bubbling over the small orange flame of a spirit burner that everyone was slightly nervous about.
You got a long fork with a colored tip so you’d know which one was yours. And everybody repeated the same rule: drop your bread in the pot and you owe a kiss or a dare. It gave strangers a reason to talk and gave the whole night a center of gravity.
46. Tomato Aspic Unmolded Onto a Bed of Lettuce
Red, trembling, and savory, tomato aspic was the dish that split a room. Half the guests circled back for seconds and the other half gave it a wide, polite berth.
It was basically a jellied tomato juice spiked with celery, olive, and a hiss of Worcestershire, unmolded onto iceberg with a confident flip and a prayer. The host served it with a dollop of mayonnaise and real conviction. You can call it dated. I’d call it the bravest thing on the buffet.
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45. Cocktail Franks Simmered in Grape Jelly and Chili Sauce
Grape jelly and chili sauce, melted together over low heat with a bag of little smokies dumped in. That’s it. The sweet-and-tangy sauce turned cheap franks into the first thing to vanish every single year.
They lived in the crockpot by the kitchen doorway, kept warm all night, speared with frilly toothpicks that piled up in an ashtray beside the pot. Somebody always doubted the jelly until the first bite shut them up.
44. Beef Fondue Cooked Right at the Table in Hot Oil
The grown-up, slightly dangerous cousin of cheese fondue. A pot of hot oil at the center of the table, raw beef cubes on your plate, and a row of dipping sauces in little divided dishes: bearnaise, horseradish, curry, a sharp mustard.
You cooked your own, which meant dinner stretched for hours and the conversation filled every minute. Somebody always burned a finger grabbing the wrong fork. Somebody always lost a cube to the bottom of the pot. Eating became a group project, and on New Year’s Eve, stretching the meal all the way to midnight was exactly what you wanted.
43. The Lime Jell-O Mold Made With Cottage Cheese
Lime Jell-O did not stay a dessert in the 1970s. It got folded with cottage cheese, crushed pineapple, and walnuts, poured into a ring mold, and set in the fridge overnight next to the beer.
Was it a salad? A dessert? Nobody could say, and nobody asked. It wobbled onto a lettuce leaf and held its shape, a small green monument to the decade’s faith in gelatin. I have a soft spot for it that I refuse to defend.
42. The Fish-Shaped Salmon Mousse Ringed With Crackers
Pale pink, shaped like an actual fish, with a sliced-olive eye staring up at you from the buffet. The salmon mousse announced that the host owned the right mold and knew exactly how to use it.
It set up firm enough to spread but soft enough to give, surrounded by a fanned ring of crackers you worked your way through all evening. A sprig of dill on top and a ribbon of cucumber scales made it a little proud of itself. Fair enough. It earned it.
41. Rumaki, the Bacon-Wrapped Chicken Liver and Water Chestnut Bite
Smoky, sweet, and vaguely exotic to a suburban palate in 1974. Rumaki wrapped a sliver of chicken liver and a slice of water chestnut in bacon, brushed it with teriyaki, and broiled it until the bacon crisped.
It rode the decade’s fascination with tiki bars and “Polynesian” supper clubs straight onto home party trays. The water chestnut gave a cool crunch against the rich liver, and the bacon did what bacon does, which is make nervous guests brave. These went fast.
40. Watergate Salad Heaped With Mini Marshmallows
Pistachio pudding mix, canned pineapple, whipped topping, chopped nuts, and a blizzard of mini marshmallows folded in. Mint green, impossibly fluffy, and sweeter than the dessert it was pretending not to be.
It landed on buffet tables as a “salad,” which nobody believed for a second. The marshmallows softened into the pudding overnight, which is precisely the point. By the time the ball dropped, the crystal bowl was scraped down to a green smear, and that was the only review it ever needed.
39. A Port-Wine Cheese Ball Rolled in Nuts
It came out of the fridge looking like a small pink planet, rolled in chopped pecans or walnuts and planted in the middle of a ring of crackers. The cheese inside was sharp, soft, and tinted a color cheese is not supposed to be, thanks to a splash of port. Some hosts made their own. Plenty just bought one wrapped in plastic at the grocery store and acted surprised when you complimented it.
By eleven it had a crater in one side and a butter knife sticking out of it like a flag. Nobody minded the color. You spread it thick, crunched through the nuts, and went back for more before the ball dropped.
38. Rainbow Sherbet Punch Made With Ginger Ale
The punch bowl got filled with ginger ale, and then someone dropped in scoops of rainbow sherbet: orange, lime, raspberry, all bobbing at the surface. Within minutes the whole thing foamed up into a pastel froth that looked like a science fair project and tasted like a birthday party.
Kids hovered over it with the ladle. Adults topped up their cups when nobody was looking, sometimes with something from the bar. By midnight the sherbet had melted into a murky, sweet sea, and the bowl still got emptied.
37. Sausage-and-Cheese Hanky Pankies on Party Rye
Brown some sausage, melt in a brick of processed cheese, spread the whole mess on cocktail-sized slices of party rye, and slide it under the broiler. That was the recipe, and it was enough. Hanky pankies came out bubbling and greasy and smelling like a diner at its best.
Smart hosts made trays of them weeks ahead and froze them, which meant they appeared hot from the oven every time the platter got low. You burned the roof of your mouth on the first one and reached for the second anyway. The name alone made them a party food.
36. Devils on Horseback Secured With Toothpicks
A prune wrapped in bacon sounds like a dare, but this was the bite that made people stop talking mid-sentence. Sometimes the prune was stuffed with an almond or a sliver of cheese, sometimes a date stood in, and the whole thing was pinned shut with a toothpick and baked until the bacon went crisp and the fruit turned jammy.
Salty, sweet, smoky, and gone in one bite. The toothpicks piled up in ashtrays all night. I’d take a tray of these over most of what gets passed around at parties now.
35. Shrimp Cocktail Arranged in Ice-Filled Goblets
Nothing said the host meant business like shrimp cocktail. Chilled shrimp hung over the rim of a glass goblet packed with crushed ice, with a pool of red cocktail sauce in the middle: ketchup, horseradish, a squeeze of lemon, and enough bite to clear your sinuses.
It felt like steakhouse glamour brought home to the living room. Guests ate the shrimp with their fingers and left the tails on a napkin. The goblets usually came from the wedding china cabinet, and they went back there the next morning.
34. Braunschweiger Spread Surrounded by Crackers
Braunschweiger was the smoked liver sausage that lived in a tube in the deli case, and at a party it got a promotion. Mashed with a little cream cheese or onion, it was shaped into a mound, sometimes frosted with more cream cheese, and set out with a fan of crackers around it like a fancy pâté.
Some guests made a beeline for it. Others pretended not to see it. It was rich, smoky, and a little rustic, and the ones who loved it ate it straight through the countdown.
33. Smoked Oysters Served Straight From the Tin on Crackers
No plating, no garnish, no apology. Someone peeled back the lid on a flat tin of smoked oysters, set it on a saucer, and put a box of crackers next to it. That was the whole presentation, and it was considered sophisticated.
The oysters were dark, oily, and intensely smoky, and you either loved them or held your breath walking past. A toothpick and a saltine were all you needed. The empty tin usually ended up doubling as an ashtray before the night was over.
32. Anchovy Canapés Garnished With Sliced Olives
Soft, crustless white bread cut into triangles, a smear of butter or cream cheese, a curl of anchovy fillet, and a slice of pimento-stuffed olive on top for color. These looked like something from a cocktail party in a movie, which was exactly the point.
They were salty enough to make you thirsty, and that was good news for whoever was tending the bar. Plenty of guests picked off the anchovy and ate the rest. The ones who liked anchovies were glad to have the plate to themselves.
31. Clam Dip Served in a Hollowed-Out Bread Bowl
A round loaf of bread had its top sliced off and its insides pulled out, and then it was filled with clam dip: canned minced clams, cream cheese, a little lemon, a dash of Worcestershire. The torn-out bread got cut into cubes and piled around it for dunking.
The best part came late in the night, when the dip ran low and people started tearing off pieces of the bowl itself. The host never had to wash a serving dish. That’s what I’d call good planning.
30. Bugles Filled Individually With Squeezable Cheese
Bugles were already a party snack, but someone always decided they needed improving. Out came the can of spray cheese, and each little corn horn got a squirt of orange into its open end, one at a time, until a whole tray stood lined up like tiny cornucopias.
It was tedious work, and it was usually handed off to the kids. The adults ate them by the handful anyway. Crunchy, salty, and loaded with cheese, they never lasted long enough for anyone to admit how silly they looked.
29. Ritz Crackers Topped With Canned Cheese Rosettes
Someone always made these the afternoon before, and the can of cheese was the whole event. You pressed the nozzle, the cheese curled out in a soft orange spiral, and if you got the pressure right it sat up on the cracker like a little crown. Kids begged to do a few. Adults pretended to be annoyed and handed over the can.
They never stayed crisp. By ten o’clock the crackers had gone slightly soft under the cheese, and nobody cared — you ate them anyway, standing at the table, three at a time.
28. Celery Sticks Stuffed With Pimento Cheese
The token vegetable on the table, and even it was mostly a vehicle for cheese. Celery got filled with pimento spread, lined up in a crystal dish, and set out as the thing you could eat without feeling like you’d ruined your diet. You hadn’t. But the lie was pleasant.
They snapped when you bit them, cold from the fridge, the cheese a little tangy with those flecks of red pepper. Honestly the best bite on the whole table, and the one that always ran out first.
27. Ham-and-Pickle Roll-Ups Speared on Frilly Picks
Cream cheese smeared on a slice of ham, a whole dill pickle rolled up inside, sliced into pinwheels and held together with a pick so the whole thing didn’t unravel on the plate. The pick was structural. Pull it out and you had a mess.
Salty, tangy, cold, and oddly satisfying in a way that made no sense on paper. These lived right next to the relish tray, and they vanished fast once the second drink went around.
26. Paprika-Dusted Deviled Eggs on the Egg Plate That Only Came Out for Parties
There was a plate that existed for this one purpose — white, with little oval dents molded into it, and it lived in the back of a cabinet all year until a party justified its existence. Deviled eggs filled every dent, dusted with paprika that did nothing for flavor and everything for looks.
Somebody always made two dozen. Somebody always ate four standing over the counter. The paprika stained your fingers, and the eggs disappeared before the punch bowl was half gone.
25. The Crystal Relish Tray Loaded With Pickles and Olives
Every family had the tray. Divided crystal, each little compartment for a different pickled thing, dusted off once or twice a year and filled with olives, gherkins, dill spears, and those sweet pickle chips nobody admitted to liking.
Kids stacked the black olives on their fingertips — a child’s entire reason for black olives to exist. The adults picked at it between cigarettes, and by the time the ball dropped the tray was mostly empty wells and olive juice.
Our readers still like a laid-out spread: photos of food served as a board spread got hearts 84% of the time, versus 77% for the other images in the same articles.
24. Seven-Layer Salad Built in a Glass Bowl So You Could See the Stripes
The bowl was the whole trick. Clear glass, straight sides, so the layers showed off like geological strata: lettuce, peas, onion, cheese, that thick white cap of mayonnaise sealed over the top, bacon crumbled last. And you were not allowed to toss it until serving time. Toss it early and you’d committed a party crime.
It sat in the fridge overnight so the flavors did whatever flavors do in there. Then it came out, somebody dug a serving spoon straight down through all of it, and the stripes you’d admired for an hour turned into one happy mess on everyone’s plate.
23. Ambrosia Salad With Coconut and Canned Mandarin Oranges
Was it a salad? Was it dessert? Nobody could ever say, and nobody asked twice. Mini marshmallows, coconut, canned mandarins, crushed pineapple, maybe a few maraschino cherries parked on top, all folded into something white and sweet.
It landed on the table somewhere between the ham roll-ups and the pie, which told you everything about how the 1970s thought about categories. I will defend ambrosia to anyone. It had no business being as good as it was.
22. Waldorf Salad Spooned Into Crisp Lettuce Cups
A little fancier than the rest of the table, which was the point. Waldorf meant somebody wanted the spread to have a dressed-up corner. Diced apple, celery, walnuts, grapes, bound in dressing and spooned into a cup of iceberg lettuce so each guest got a tidy little serving.
The lettuce cup rarely got eaten. It was a plate, not a food. But it made the whole thing look intentional, and in 1970s party terms, looking intentional was half the battle.
Today, salads have a harder time with Piaci Pizza readers: salad photos got hearts 47% of the time, against 68% for the other images in the same articles.
21. Potato Chips With the Onion Soup Mix Dip Everyone Pretended Was a Recipe
Sour cream, a packet of dried onion soup mix, stir, done. That was the recipe, and everyone treated it like a family secret. The dip went in a bowl, the ruffled chips went around it in that special two-part serving dish, and the whole thing sat on the coffee table near the people who had given up on the buffet and settled in to watch TV.
You double-dipped. Everyone double-dipped. The chips always ran out before the dip did, and then there was that awkward hunt for something else to dunk.
20. Homemade Chex Party Mix in a Bowl the Size of a Sink
It filled the whole house with the smell of butter and Worcestershire for an afternoon, baking low in the oven while somebody stirred it every so often so the bottom didn’t scorch. Chex, pretzels, peanuts, little crackers, all tossed in seasoned butter and toasted until the edges went crisp.
Then it went into the biggest bowl in the kitchen. Not a party bowl. The mixing bowl — the one you’d have to wash to make anything else. People grabbed fistfuls all night, picking out their favorite pieces and leaving the plain Chex for last.
By midnight the bowl was half gone and the kitchen still smelled like the best part of the night.
19. Swedish Meatballs Kept Warm in a Chafing Dish
The chafing dish came out of its box once a year, and this was its job. A shallow tray of meatballs swam in a creamy brown gravy, sometimes thickened with sour cream, sometimes with a can of cream of mushroom soup that nobody mentioned. A tiny flame flickered underneath, and a cup of toothpicks sat beside it like a dare.
You speared one, then another, then lost count. The gravy dripped onto the tablecloth and the host pretended not to notice. By midnight the tray was down to a few lonely meatballs and a skin of sauce, and someone was always wiping it with a dinner roll.
18. Pigs in Blankets Made With Canned Crescent Dough
Pop the can, unroll the triangles, wrap each one around a cocktail wiener, and bake until golden. That was the whole recipe, and it was the most reliable thing on the table. Refrigerated crescent dough made every host look like a baker, at least for the length of one cookie sheet.
They came out puffed and shiny and vanished faster than anything that took real effort. Mustard sat in a little bowl nearby. The kids hovered by the oven door and the adults weren’t far behind, because nobody, at any age, has ever walked past a tray of these.
17. Oysters Rockefeller Baked Under a Green Topping
This was the dish that told you the host meant business. Oysters on the half shell, buried under a bright green topping of greens, butter, and breadcrumbs, then baked until bubbling and lined up on a platter of rock salt so they wouldn’t tip over. Fancy, a little intimidating, and very much a special-occasion move.
Half the room had never eaten an oyster before and decided New Year’s Eve was the night to try. Some went back for more. Some swallowed bravely and reached for the cheese ball. Either way, it made the buffet feel like a restaurant for an evening.
16. Chicken à la King Ladled From a Chafing Dish
Diced chicken, mushrooms, and pimentos in a cream sauce, kept warm over a flame and ladled onto toast points or into flaky pastry shells. It sounded elegant. It tasted like a hug. It was the closest thing to an actual dinner on a table full of snacks on toothpicks.
Guests who’d skipped supper made a beeline for it. The pastry shells shattered everywhere, and the sauce found its way onto at least one good blouse every year. Today it reads like something from a hotel banquet menu, but back then it was the main event dressed up for company.
15. Glazed Ham Decorated With Pineapple Rings and Cherries
The ham arrived scored into diamonds, studded with cloves, and shingled with pineapple rings, each one holding a maraschino cherry dead center like a bullseye. A brown sugar glaze made the whole thing shine under the dining room light. It looked like a magazine cover, which was exactly the point.
Someone carved thin slices for little rolls with mustard, and the ham fed guests all night long. The pineapple rings went first. The bone went home with whoever asked loudest, destined for a pot of split pea soup the following week.
14. English-Muffin Pizza Rounds Covered in Jarred Sauce
Split English muffins, a spoonful of jarred pizza sauce, a handful of shredded mozzarella, maybe a slice of pepperoni, and into the broiler they went. They were fast, cheap, and the teenagers could make them without supervision, which counted for a lot after eleven o’clock.
The edges got crisp, the centers stayed chewy, and the cheese bubbled into little brown spots. Nobody would have called it real pizza. Nobody turned one down, either. They came out in batches all night, and each batch disappeared before the next one hit the oven.
13. Pineapple Upside-Down Cake With Maraschino Cherries
Flip the cast-iron skillet, hold your breath, and lift. If luck was with you, the pineapple rings sat in a perfect pattern, each with a bright red cherry in the middle, all glistening under a layer of caramelized brown sugar. If not, you patched it with a spatula and acted like that was the plan.
It was sticky and sweet and looked far fancier than the effort involved. The corner pieces with the most caramel went first. Somebody always tried to claim the slice with the extra cherry, and the cake plate came back scraped clean.
12. Leftover Christmas Fruitcake Cut Into Cocktail Squares
Christmas had passed, but the fruitcake hadn’t. It sat on the counter, dense and heavy, wrapped in foil and possibly soaked in brandy, and New Year’s Eve was its last best shot at being eaten. So the host cut it into small squares, arranged them on a doily, and hoped for the best.
Some guests genuinely loved it, candied cherries and all. Others took one square to be polite and slipped it into a napkin. Every year a few pieces survived, and every year somebody joked that the same fruitcake would show up next December.
11. Date-Nut Loaf Spread With Cream Cheese
Dark, moist, and dotted with chopped dates and walnuts, date-nut loaf was sliced thin and spread with a layer of softened cream cheese. Some versions came baked at home, and some came out of a can, sliced into neat rounds that kept the shape of the tin.
It sat on the dessert end of the table looking modest next to the cakes, but it held its own. Sweet, nutty, and tangy all at once, it was the snack for anyone who wanted something sweet without committing to a full slice of pie. You’d be hard-pressed to find it at a party now.
10. Cherries Jubilee Set Alight at the Table
Candlelight flickered across the dim room as the host poured brandy over a pan of warm cherries in syrup, and someone struck a match. Blue flames leapt up from the pan while everyone gasped and leaned back from the table. Then, with the flames still licking at the ladle, the cherries and syrup were poured over a crystal glass of vanilla ice cream.
It was pure theater, and that was the whole appeal. The dessert itself took about five minutes, but the show made it feel like a fancy restaurant. Today it would make a host nervous. Back then it was the grand finale before the countdown began.
9. Baked Alaska Carried Out With Toasted Meringue
The lights dimmed and someone carried it out from the kitchen, a dome of golden-tipped meringue that looked far too fancy for a split-level ranch. Underneath sat a sponge cake base and a block of ice cream, usually Neapolitan, because three flavors felt like a party in itself.
It went into a blazing hot oven for just a few minutes, and the whole room held its breath to see whether the ice cream would survive. It always did, mostly. You got a slice that was warm, cold, toasted, and soft all at once, and you understood why the host had been nervous all evening.
8. Champagne Punch Floating With Citrus Rings
The punch bowl came out of its box once a year, and on New Year’s Eve it held something sparkling. Champagne, or whatever bubbly fit the budget, got stretched with fruit juice and a splash of something stronger, then crowned with floating orange and lemon slices.
The citrus rings bobbed around an ice ring frozen in a bundt pan the night before, and the little glass cups hooked onto the rim clinked every time someone reached for the ladle. It tasted festive and went down easy, which is exactly why a few guests were singing by eleven.
7. Harvey Wallbangers Mixed With Galliano
Vodka, orange juice, and a bright yellow float of Galliano poured over the top. That was the whole drink, and for a stretch of the 1970s it was the one everybody wanted to order by name.
The Galliano bottle was the real star: absurdly tall, bright yellow inside, and too big for any normal liquor cabinet, so it stood on top of the bar like a trophy. The liqueur added a sweet vanilla-and-anise note that turned a basic screwdriver into something with a funny name. Today most people have never tasted Galliano, and that bottle would confuse them all on its own.
6. Riunite Lambrusco Poured Over Ice
Red wine with ice cubes in it would make a modern wine snob wince. In the 1970s it was simply how you drank Riunite, because the TV commercials said so: Riunite on ice, that’s nice.
The Lambrusco was sweet, a little fizzy, and easy for people who didn’t think of themselves as wine drinkers. It came out of the fridge, splashed over cubes in a tumbler, and tasted like grown-up grape soda. Nobody swirled or sniffed. You just poured another glass and went back to the dip.
5. Whiskey Sours Made From Bottled Sour Mix
There was always a bottle of sour mix on the counter, glowing an alarming shade of yellow that occurs nowhere in nature. Pour it over ice with a shot of whiskey, shake it in a chrome shaker if you were feeling fancy, and you had the drink of the decade.
A maraschino cherry and an orange slice went on top, partly as garnish and partly to prove the host knew what a garnish was. Fresh lemon juice? That was for bartenders in the city. The bottled stuff was sweet, sharp, and consistent, and nobody at the party was complaining.
4. Grasshopper Cocktails Made With Green Crème de Menthe
Mint-green and creamy, the Grasshopper looked less like a cocktail and more like a melted milkshake from a seaside diner. Green crème de menthe, white crème de cacao, and cream, shaken cold and poured into a stemmed glass.
It tasted like a chocolate-mint candy, and it was usually served late, when dessert and drinks started blurring together. The color alone would stop a modern guest in their tracks. Back then, a bright green drink was a sign the host had a real home bar and knew how to use it.
3. Pink Squirrels Blended With Ice Cream
If the Grasshopper was green, the Pink Squirrel was its rosy cousin. Crème de noyaux, an almond-flavored liqueur with a bright red color, went into the blender with white crème de cacao and a scoop or two of vanilla ice cream.
Out came something thick, pink, and sweet enough to count as dessert. Try finding crème de noyaux on a liquor store shelf today and you’ll see why this drink has nearly vanished. In its day, though, a frosty pink glass at midnight felt like the height of glamour.
2. Spiked Eggnog Served From a Cut-Glass Bowl
The cut-glass bowl caught every bit of light in the room, and inside it sat a pale, thick sea of eggnog with nutmeg grated over the top. Sometimes it was homemade. More often it was a few cartons from the grocery store, poured in and rescued with a generous glug of rum, brandy, or bourbon.
Little matching cups sat clustered around the bowl, and guests ladled their own, which meant the strength of each cup depended entirely on who had last topped off the bottle. Rich, sweet, and boozy, it was the holiday season’s last stand before January.
1. Cold Duck Sparkling Wine Popped at Midnight
When the countdown hit zero and Guy Lombardo struck up Auld Lang Syne, someone popped a bottle of Cold Duck. Sweet, sparkling, and red, it was a blend of sparkling white wine and sparkling red, and it was cheap enough that every household could afford a toast.
The name came from the German Kalte Ente, and it was wildly popular around the turn of the 1970s before fading almost as fast. Serve it at a party today and guests would squint at the label. At the time, a fizzing glass of something pink-red was exactly how a new year was supposed to begin.