This album, despite the kind of soupy mid-century accompaniment, avoids the tacky schmaltz both pop and opera singers make of these songs, many of which benefit from understatement as their generally florid Victorian texts aren’t exactly models of prosody or subtlety. This album is both comforting and festive. It reminds of me of quiet cold nights, pure white Christmas lights, and warm kitchens that smell of sausage, ham, sauerkraut pierogies (on Christmas Eve we went to my Dad’s side of the family, who were Polish), and later, hot cocoa.