Time Marches On and Instagram Beckons

Drenched narcissus Thalia in the front garden this morning
Photo: Chronica Domus

It's been an age since I posted anything on this blog so I thought I'd stop by (in case anyone is still reading) to say hello.  I suppose with the clocks going forward by an hour today, I am reminded that time marches on and this is my first post of 2019.  Egads!

The world of blogging is something I became familiar with when I wrote my first comment on a favorite blog many years ago.  Back then, I enjoyed doing the daily rounds of blogs and reading the interesting, enlightening, funny, and sometimes touching things other bloggers wrote about.  Bucking up the courage to begin my own blog in January 2014, I had no idea how rewarding the experience would become.  I've made many blogging friends over the past five years through the comments section of this blog, and have even had the privilege and pleasure of meeting several of them in real life.  Along with being a rewarding pastime blogging is, of course, a time consuming one.  Time, as you might already know, is a valuable commodity and over the past year or so, I've had a difficult time setting aside adequate amounts of it to dedicate to writing and photographing this blog.

So, today I'm here not to say "good bye" just yet, but to tell you all that the posts will continue, albeit at a slower than usual pace.  I'm not quite ready to throw in the towel!  Also, as I do enjoy the interaction that social media can provide, I've finally joined that merry bandwagon known as Instagram.  I know Instagram may be old news to some of you who have been posting for years, but to me it's an exciting new world waiting to be discovered.  I can no longer resist.  If you'd care to join me there, please do so.  Just search for chronicadomus and hopefully you'll find me there.

To use IG talk, #resistanceisfutile

CD

Revealed: The Wooden Mystery Object

Did you correctly guess the purpose of this little wooden mystery object?
Photo: Chronica Domus

Well, that was a fun little game!  Thank you all for playing along and taking a stab at what you believed was the purpose of the wooden mystery item.  I enjoyed reading all of the comments and the thought behind your suggestions.  I must say, you are certainly an imaginative and clever bunch of Sherlocks. 

Here are some of the incorrect answers put forward for what the mystery item might be: 

Nope! The mystery item is not a collar fluter
(but this guess wins the most imaginative prize, thank you!)
Source

Butter paddles, perhaps?  Wrong again, but getting warmer!
Source

A pie or pastry crimper?  Wrong again!

Source

Butter was a common theme that cropped up throughout the comments and on that score, yes, I can reveal the item is indeed used with butter.  "It doesn't look quite right for fancy butter shapes" wrote Jim who inspired this particular round of the Mystery Object Game.  Well, Jim, you were certainly on the right track so nice try!  Other guesses included a butter paddle, a butter shaper, and a butter cutter.

Ultimately, it was Pipistrello who guessed correctly when she wrote "I'm going with butter curler".  Caro's late entry of "Circa 1900 wooden butter curler" was spot on too but that guess was submitted after I published all the comments which might have guided Caro in the right direction.  Either way, well done to you both!  Please feel free to give yourselves a butter pat on the back.

The wooden mystery item is indeed a butter curler likely made during the late-nineteenth 

century or at the turn of the twentieth

Photo: Chronica Domus

In an effort to demonstrate how the tool works, I can safely report that dairy maids everywhere are in no danger of being displaced by the likes of me any time soon. Working with a block of my favorite creamy Irish butter, I soon discovered the reason why butter curlers have fallen from favor.  They truly are a pain in the more trouble than they are worth!

Oh bother! Clearly this tool is made for right-handed dairy maids

(I'm left-handed!)

Photo: Chronica Domus

Following a brief tussle with the butter curler while blurting out several unmentionable words in frustration, success!  Somehow, I had eked out three perfectly formed butter curls, a proud moment indeed.

Heavens! I got there in the end

Photo: Chronica Domus

In fact, I was so overjoyed by my accomplishment that I actually forgot to use one of butter curls atop my freshly toasted crumpet reaching instead for the usual slab of butter. 

Photo: Chronica Domus

I do hope you enjoyed this installment of the Mystery Object Game because I certainly had fun (sort of) learning how to curl butter.  Thank you all once again for being such good sports and playing along with me.  

Photo: Chronica Domus

So, do please tell me, would you take the time to curl your butter if you had access to this antiquated kitchen gadget or like me, are you perfectly content to reach for the butter dish and dig the knife straight in?

Happy Thanksgiving!

In the years we are fortunate enough to have the pleasure of hosting dear friends at our annual Thanksgiving celebratory 'dinner for waifs and strays', I derive much pleasure in not only the details of preparing the menu and cooking the food, but also in the decoration of the dining room.

I was up early today, in the garden clipping from the bountiful Pittosporum shrub that looks more like a tree nowadays.  Somehow, it survived the punishing drought we've endured these past few years and has held on to give generously of its orange-hued berries.

Photo: Chronica Domus

It was with some irony that as I stood beneath the Pittosporum canopy clipping away and filling my trug this morning - Thanksgiving day - the heavens opened and down came much needed rain, fast and heavy.  For this I was thankful.  Very thankful.  We have not seen a drop of precipitation around these parts since the end of last winter.

Dashing back inside the house, I managed to fill four Regency-era syllabub glasses with the berries which I then used as a centerpiece on the Thanksgiving table.  For this too I was thankful for I had made the fatal error of buying some natural plant material this past weekend in hopes it would last through today.  Needless to say, it did not!

Syllabub glasses make excellent vases in a pinch!
Photo: Chronica Domus

Photo: Chronica Domus

As I placed the little arrangements on the dining table, the sun broke through the rain clouds and just for a few minutes, the room glowed with sunlight.  What joy!

Photo: Chronica Domus

Photo: Chronica Domus

I am looking forward to giving thanks and gratitude for so much more throughout the day.  Friends we have not seen in many years will be here within the hour and there is still so much to do in the kitchen.

What are your plans today?  Will you be at home preparing a special meal to share with your family and friends, or are you one of the millions of Americans who have traveled far from home?

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

A Wooden Mystery Object

It has been quite some time since I published a mystery object post so today, for your quizzical pleasure, I present you with this:

What in the world is this mystery object?

Photo: Chronica Domus

Photo: Chronica Domus

Jim, who comments under the name Parnassus and writes the blog Road To Parnassus, was the inspiration for today's game.  "I am sure that we could go many rounds of "mystery object" with the contents of that store" was his comment on my previous post referring, of course, to Lucullus Antiques.  That was when the little light bulb that lives in my head began to glow and I realized it was high time we played another round of this fun game.

Today's item is about five and a half inches in length and is made of that most beautiful American wood, Tiger Maple (or would that be Flame Maple, Fiddleback, or even Curly Maple?).  Whatever one chooses to call it, its distinctive striated pattern makes for a very attractive wood indeed.

I believe the mystery item was likely made at either the end of the nineteenth century or the beginning of the twentieth century when its use was a little more prevalent than it is today.  My husband found this one about six months ago at a collective antiques mall.  It was tossed atop a pile of random objects corralled in a basket.  When he spotted it, he held it up and asked me if I knew what it was (evidently, he did!).  It took me a few minutes to ponder the answer but I solved the mystery on my first attempt.  His next question was, "Do you want it, it's only a couple of dollars?"  Well, of course I wanted it!  The object had all the hallmarks of an excellent mystery object post.

So, can you guess what the purpose of today's mystery item is?  Please do leave me a comment with your best guess which I look forward to reading.  Let the fun and games begin!

Exploring New Orleans: Part III of III Lucullus Antiques

For such a geographically compact area, the French Quarter of New Orleans offers much to delight its many visitors.  Beyond the obvious architectural, culinary, and musical experiences there is, of course, the shopping.

Lucullus Antiques

Photo: Chronica Domus

I have known about Lucullus Antiques since reading Patrick Dunne's book The Epicurean Collector which I received as a Christmas present shortly after its publication in 2002.  As you might have already guessed from its title, the book explores the world of culinary antiques.  It focuses primarily on the accoutrements and traditions of the French and English kitchen and dining room. It is also sumptuously photographed and makes for a splendidly informative read.  Put another way, it is a book right down one's alley.

As well as being the author of The Epicurean Collector, Mr. Dunne happens to be the proprietor of Lucullus Antiques.  In fact, many of the props appearing in the book's photographs were items available for sale at Mr. Dunne's shop.  Eager to visit, I made a beeline for Lucullus Antiques on the morning of my first full day in New Orleans.

As I stepped across the threshold of the wine red-painted store front, a magical world presented itself.  Too lost in the moment to snap any worthy photograph that will do justice to this marvelous shop, I stumbled about from room to room in a stupor, absorbed in the dazzling displays of gleaming silver, sparkling glassware, fine porcelain, and polished copper.

The stacks of Paris porcelain dishes and early nineteenth century
champagne flutes reminded me of preparing for my own dinner parties at home
Photo: Chronica Domus

Anglo-Irish cut-glass sweetmeat dishes, silver candelabra, and more Paris porcelain to
tempt and delight Lucullus' patrons
Photo: Chronica Domus

Polished copper pots and pans to satisfy the best of cooks
Photo: Chronica Domus

An autumnal display of early-nineteenth century covered jars, or bonbonnieres as
they are known at Lucullus Antiques
Photo: Chronica Domus

Every conceivable kitchen and dining room convenience of yesteryear is artfully arranged and whimsically displayed within the various rooms of the nineteenth century building that Lucullus Antiques occupies.  Walking from the formal dining room settings, found towards the the front of the shop, and into the more rustic atmosphere of the back end of the building, one finds a convincing interpretation of a working country kitchen.

A charming and inviting rustic kitchen setting

Photo: Chronica Domus

Beautiful and functional French kitchen antiques, and even a stuffed hen, are found
in the back kitchen space of Lucullus Antiques

Photo: Chronica Domus

If all the beautiful objects become a little too overwhelming, one can easily step outside into the welcoming courtyard where - you guessed it - even more antiques await, casually displayed within their lush setting.

French café tables and chairs are set about the lush and tranquil courtyard
Photo: Chronica Domus

Heading back inside, I could not help but to look around in disbelief that
I was still in The United States of America and not in a village house in
southernEurope or the West Indies
Photo: Chronica Domus

Of course, a souvenir of my visit was most certainly in order and as Mr. Dunne was presently on a buying trip in France, his capable and gracious staff was on hand to assist.  

The playful Mr. Kerry Moody was all too happy to ham it up for the 

camera, with an appropriate prop, of course

Photo: Chronica Domus

Circling back to one of the silver cabinets piled with silver items, Ms. Michele was most helpful when it came time to make my purchase.  Wouldn't you just know it, in a shop stocked primarily with French antiques, it was an English piece that had caught my eye. 

A sterling silver ladle with crest by London silversmith Henry Sardet 
circa 1804 was going home with me
Photo: Chronica Domus

I was leaving Lucullus Antiques not only a delighted customer, but one that will recall her visit with fondness whenever her new old ladle is pressed into service.  And, just as Mr. Moody bid me adieu, I spied a copy of the very book that inspired my visit, The Epicurean Collector, perched upon a small writing desk waiting to be discovered.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Please do yourself a favor and pay a visit to Lucullus Antiques the next time you are in the French Quarter of New Orleans.  There's really no other place quite like it.  And, if you can't get there in person any time soon, crack open the cover of Patrick Dunne's marvelous and informative book, The Epicurean Collector, for a fascinating read on food history and culinary traditions. 

I do leave you with a few words of warning however: You may just be inspired to begin a new collection of something you had no idea ever existed before thumbing through the pages of this book.  Absinthe spoons, anyone?

Lucullus Antiques
610 Chartres Street
New Orleans, LA 70130
Tel: 1 (504) 528-9620


Nota bene: I am neither paid nor do I receive recompense in exchange for applauding products or services within my blog.  I do so because I enjoy them.  If you are a kindred spirit, you too enjoy recommending nice things to fellow good eggs.

A Son's Poignant Remembrance On All Souls' Day

A son mourns the loss of his father
Photo: Chronica Domus

Since the early days of this blog, I have published a post each year to coincide with All Souls' Day.  These posts showcase a different item from a small group of mourning hair art that my husband and I have collected over the years.  As I sit in front of the keyboard preparing to write these annual blog entries, a funny thing happens; my mind begins to drift.  I contemplate how it is that we have become the stewards of these very personal mementos of other people's relatives. Then, I find myself reminiscing about my own dearly departed friends, relations, and animal companions with fondness and with gratitude for having known them.  In an odd way, by writing about our collection, my cherished memories of the people and animals who helped create them remain aglow in my mind's eye.

Now, let's return to the subject at hand, this year's featured mourning item.  As you can see from the preceding photograph, this art piece is yet another outstanding example that demonstrates the meticulous skill of the artist when composing a picture made entirely out of human hair.  Every strand has been cut and laid out just so, or finely snipped and pounded into position on a thinly-sliced ivory disc.  The masterly shading brings a wonderful sense of depth to the scene.  I suspect the different color hair used is a blend from the mourner and the deceased.  The whole forms a poignant mourning scene.  And, as with last year's example, this one is quite a rarity too. The inclusion of a human figure carried a far higher price tag for the person commissioning the work than, for example, a more typical mourning scene depicting just a tomb.

French in origin and likely dating to around 1830 to 1840, this piece includes several of the most common symbols of mourning.  The weeping willow tree is there, the draped urn atop the tomb, and even a lone pansy to represent love and admiration of one person for another.

The mourner, a young dark-haired gentleman sporting a smart tailcoat, is kneeling by the tomb of his father.  We learn of his relationship to the deceased because the gentleman is shown in the act of painting an inscription on the tomb.  From what I am able to determine when squinting at studying the minuscule words, which are written in French, they read O mon pere! un jour viendra ...  I take this to mean that father and son will one day be reunited.

Housed within its original frame and stamped brass ring, this happens to be one of
my favorite pieces in our collection
Photo: Chronica Domus

This particular mourning hair work hangs on the wall of our home's vestibule.  It is grouped with two other examples of mourning hair art that I've written about here and here.  I love how they are reflected in the small Regency era convex mirror, seen in the below photograph.  

Three early-nineteenth century mourning hair artworks
grace the walls of our home's vestibule
Photo: Chronica Domus

Other pieces in our collection hang on the walls of our bedroom.  A few are even tucked away in drawers, waiting in the wings to be paired with future acquisitions.  As you can well imagine, aside from a healthy dose of patience, a collection as unusual as this takes many years to cobble together.  

This grouping of two mourning hair artworks is found in our bedroom
Photo: Chronica Domus

This is one of a pair of mourning hair artworks believed to memorialize the
lives of a husband and wife

Photo: Chronica Domus

Here are the four mourning hair artworks in situ

Photo: Chronica Domus

Tell me, is there something in your possession that holds sentimental value and reminds you fondly of a dearly departed friend or relative you may be thinking about today on All Souls' Day?

Exploring New Orleans Part II of III: A Visit to Pitot House

Pitot House was designed by architect and builder Hilaire Boutté in 1799
Photo: Chronica Domus

Of all the historic house museums located in New Orleans, it was Pitot House that I was most looking forward to visiting.  Perhaps not such an obvious choice for most visitors of this fair city - a streetcar up to City Park will take you there from the French Quarter - it was a house I had longed to see for myself.  I first read about Pitot House in Vance Muse's 'Old New Orleans, Great American Homes', a book I discovered at a public library early in the 1990s when I first arrived on these shores from England.  A copy of the book now sits on the shelves of my own library.

Photo: Chronica Domus

What drew me to Pitot House was the fact that it looks like no other dwelling I have stumbled across in my new country of residence.  Certainly, one would expect to see such houses in the tropical climes of the West Indies, but here in America?   With its stucco-covered brick and post construction, wide loggia, colonnettes, shutters, and cooling brick floors, this house happens to be perfectly suited to New Orleans' subtropical humid weather.

Although Pitot House is not a grand house, having been built as a family home - it's first resident, Madame Rillieux, was Edgar Degas' maternal great-grandmother - its intimate scale and architectural vernacular make it an endearing one.  Sitting prettily within its lush gardens along the banks of picturesque Bayou St. John, one could happily spend hours sitting idly on the gallery, gazing out at the watery view, or passing the time downstairs picking grapefruits from the garden, or perhaps clipping flowers to bring indoors.  Someone, please, wake me up, I have a blog post to write!

Photo: Chronica Domus

The garden is delineated from the street by rugged old cypress pieux fencing, seen in the first photograph of this post.  Cypress wood is often referred to in these parts as 'eternal wood' because of its rot-resistant qualities.  It does, after all, grow submerged within the swampy environs of the bayou.  Brick walkways, citrus trees, Amethyst beautyberry, as well as a host of other shrubs and trees (Cypress and Magnolia specimens) happily co-exist in the well-tended garden.

Brick paths beckon one to explore the lush gardens
Photo: Chronica Domus

Built as a country retreat in 1799 on a thirty acre plot of land,  Pitot House is the only Creole colonial country house open to the public in New Orleans.   James Pitot and his family lived there from 1810 to 1819.  He was the first mayor of the newly incorporated American city of New Orleans.

Our guide, Ms. Hallie Borstel, points out the position of Pitot House in relation 

to New Orleans on an old map of Louisiana above the fireplace in the dining room

Photo: Chronica Domus

In 1963 Pitot House was moved two-hundred feet east to its present location in an effort to save it from demolition by the Louisiana Landmarks Society.  Since then, the society has done an admirable job of restoring and preserving the house and its grounds for the visiting public to enjoy.

Here's an image of the house in 1965 in the midst of reconstruction
(notice the dormer windows in the roof, now removed, features not original to the house)
Photo: Chronica Domus

Throughout the house are dozens of french doors and windows that catch the cross-breezes when opened, helping to cool the house and its occupants.

Photo: Chronica Domus

The brick-floored rooms and 'cabinets' on the ground floor of Pitot House are multi-purpose rooms where furniture would be moved around according to the family's needs.  The rooms were also used for storage.  

Photo: Chronica Domus

There are no hallways in the house (upstairs one can come and go between rooms using the French doors on the gallery) and the only starcase in the house is located outside.

I love how the handrail curves on this outdoor staircase
Photo: Chronica Domus

Let's look around upstairs
Photo: Chronica Domus

Ascending the staircase one lands at the shuttered gallery.  I loved the colonnettes between the shutters, a detail I don't recall seeing anywhere else prior to my visit to Pitot House.

Shutters help keep the gallery upstairs cool and the rains at bay
Photo: Chronica Domus

A detailed view of the colonnettes that are placed between the shutters
Photo: Chronica Domus

Photo: Chronica Domus

The photograph above shows the French door that leads into a small bedroom.  The room is modestly furnished with an armoire, a few chairs, and a bed.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Beneath the bedspread is a Spanish-moss stuffed mattress that rests upon a rope bed

Photo: Chronica Domus

Another bedroom in the house is set up as the family had it during the hot summer months.  The headboard has been removed and the bed sits forward of the wall to allow for air circulation.  The gauzy canopy helps keep the insects at bay.  Vetiver, a natural insect repellant, was also employed.

This bedroom is set up for the summer season where mosquitoes and insects are at their worst
Photo: Chronica Domus

Evidence of the oft-present need to cool down was everywhere in the house
Photo: Chronica Domus

The view from the upstairs gallery which overlooks Bayou St. John
Photo: Chronica Domus

The French doors on the gallery are used to gain access into and egress from the upstairs rooms
Photo: Chronica Domus

By far the most formal room in the house is the parlor where James Pitot and his family entertained visiting dignitaries, friends, writers, and polititians.  

Pitot favored American Federal furniture when furnishing the rooms of Pitot House
Photo: Chronica Domus

Photo: Chronica Domus

One of the few imported pieces in the house is this French pianoforte, a belated wedding
present to Genevieve-Sophie, Mr. Pitot's second wife (the first, Marie-Jeanne, died during
childbirth) - the portrait is of James Pitot
Photo: Chronica Domus

The elaborately carved fireplace lends an air of formality to the room
(of interest to film buffs: the upper panel's floral decoration was done for the filming of
Interview With A Vampire and has yet to be removed)
Photo: Chronica Domus

A final bedroom completes the tour of the upstairs of Pitot House.  The portrait over the fireplace, which is not original to the house, is of Genevieve-Sophie Pitot.

Photo: Chronica Domus

A portrait of Genevieve-Sophie Pitot hangs over the bedroom fireplace
Photo: Chronica Domus

In 1819 James Pitot's finances forced him to leave his West Indies inspired country retreat on the bayou and return to New Orleans.  He lived there until his death in 1831.  I am thankful to the Louisiana Landmarks Society for having the foresight to save this handsome house and James Pitot's legacy so that we fortunate visitors are able to enjoy it today.

Thanks to Ms. Hallie Borstel's enthusiasm for architectural preservation, our visit to
Pitot House was a fact-filled and enjoyable one
Photo: Chronica Domus

I highly encourage visitors to New Orleans - too many of whom never explore much beyond the French Quarter - to ride the streetcar up to City Park and walk the few minutes it takes to reach Pitot House.  A tour of  this Creole country abode set upon the waters of picturesque Bayou St. John is a real treat indeed and could, possibly, be the highlight of their visit to New Orleans.  It certainly was for me.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Pitot House is located at 1440, Moss Street, New Orleans, LA 70119.  Please check the website for opening hours.


Nota bene: I am neither paid nor do I receive recompense in exchange for applauding products or services within my blog.  I do so because I enjoy them.  If you are a kindred spirit, you too enjoy recommending nice things to fellow good eggs.