New Year traditions stand firm, even when the world outside feels fast and loud. The ritual rhythm remains comforting: the familiar, the complete, the steady anchor. A family scene—a Christmas tree, a dad lifting a sign that reads Glass!—and the old box emptied of its dusty toys. People recall decorating a tree with cotton, then repeat the ritual with their children, the same lines spoken year after year. Blue Light, a chime on the clock, a bowl of Olivier—these small markers brace the last nerves and set the tone for the season.
Traditions hold sacred meaning because they were witnessed firsthand by previous generations. Even today’s young viewers, including Gen Z, have grown up with the idea that certain routines must be watched before the New Year, and perhaps in the future they will tell their own descendants about these moments, just as the older generation once spoke of cinema premieres and family legends. The memory of a grandmother recounting a favorite film lingers like a watermark on family history.
The New Year is not only a time for recaps and corporate gatherings. It is a moment when long-standing values are tested, when continuity matters enough to be passed from parent to child and inherited across generations. The question of whether to include an apple in Olivier becomes a symbol of tradition itself—an issue that stirs discussion in every household at this season.
Perhaps Lucien Olivier, the French chef credited with shaping the iconic Russian salad, would smile at the debate. He might have imagined ingredients like hazel grouse, crab necks, pressed caviar, and glassy perfection, and then wondered why a simple apple could spark so much conversation. An apple? How did that become part of the story?
The exact origin of the debate over grated apples in Olivier is lost to time. One tale places the line in a classic film moment, where a character tries to outwit another’s spouse. Another version suggests apples appeared out of winter necessity when fresh vegetables were scarce. Whatever the start, every winter brings a fresh round of discussion about apples and Olivier, and many prefer to pivot the question toward the mother of two rather than chase an orchard’s shadow.
One memory persists: asking about apples could lead to a shortage of Olivier, yet the conversation itself remains a staple of the season. In recent years, the issue has cooled somewhat, even as memes keep the topic alive and social chatter lingers on the edge of nostalgia.
Supporters of tradition argue that traditions aren’t created by effort to break them; they simply endure. They take the apple out of Olivier to keep the recipe intact. Advocates of the new wave counter that every tradition began as a bold choice and that creative change is how culture survives. The debate continues, unborn yet present in every kitchen and gathering place, a reminder that tradition and innovation wrestle for space in the same stories.
On the question of how long the New Year has been celebrated on January 1, the historical record is brief. A Russian czar’s decree from December 20, 1699, set the date for the new calendar year as January 1, 1700; previously, the year began on September 1, with March 1 also serving as a potential starting point. The first screenings of Blue Light occurred in 1962, later establishing the winter as a festive season, and only in the late 1970s did the tradition of watching a couple’s bath-time comedy join the lineup. The televised New Year address by the head of state appeared in 1985 during Mikhail Gorbachev’s era, marking another milestone in the public ritual. These shifts are historically interesting, yet often treated as tradition itself—something that endures because people believe in it, not because it must be perfect. Perhaps the same evolution will someday apply to Olivier: conservatives react, then gradually accept, and move on to the next seasonal conversation.
There have been far more serious wars and conflicts in memory, and compared to them the apple dispute can feel minor. It is a small thread in a much larger tapestry of history, yet still a thread that many choose to tug at during the holiday season. The author’s perspective is personal and may not align with every editor’s stance, but the essence remains: the New Year is a time for reflection, shared rituals, and the living memory of family meals and favorites. [Citation: traditional culinary debates and cultural rituals].