New Additions to The Hanging Wall Shelf

At last, the hanging wall shelf is full!

Photo: Chronica Domus

Last October, I wrote about my Morandi-inspired hanging wall shelf.  After arranging a small collection of earthenware vessels upon it, I was delighted to discover that sufficient room remained for additional bits and bobs to be added over time.

The hanging wall shelf as it looked last October

Photo: Chronica Domus

As you may have guessed, I'm a bit of a gatherer type.  I was certain it would not be long until an interesting and attractive object presented itself, begging to be added to the hanging shelf.

My opportunity came last December during a visit to London's Portobello Road Market, which I wrote about, here.  Rummaging through the crates and boxes of Mr. Peter Adams' stall, my husband and I selected several of the diminutive treacle and toffee colored ink pots and salt glazed polish vessels to take home with us.

Spoilt for choice!

Photo: Chronica Domus

We also snapped these up:

Photo: Chronica Domus

What, you might be asking yourself is Virol?  Well, we too were wondering the same thing.  It turns out that Virol was a perplexing concoction of bone marrow, among other ingredients, conceived during the early twentieth century.  It was marketed to British mothers of young children and carers of the elderly and infirm.  I suppose one could describe Virol as a type of super food of its day.

An early metal sign depicting an earthenware jar of Virol

Source

Virol promised everything from "perfectly moulded features, clear bright eyes, firm flesh with good healthy colour, and well-formed limbs ... a Virol constitution".  Sign me up please!  Or, maybe not.  I have a sneaking suspicion that Virol may have fallen flat on its face in its attempts at exciting the gastronomic juices of this gentle author.

Our Virol bottles look perfectly at home alongside their earthenware companions, would you not agree?

Photo: Chronica Domus

The taller of the two measures a mere three and a half inches, and the smaller bottle is a fraction shorter.

Now that I've filled up my hanging wall shelf, I'm afraid I haven't a clue where to put this charming little fellow, which I could not pass up when doing my rounds of The Alameda Antiques Faire earlier this month.

A 19th century ink pot complete with the potter's fingerprint embedded in the glaze for posterity

Photo: Chronica Domus

No matter, for I am sure it won't be too long until I find an appropriate resting place for it.  Do I see another hanging wall shelf in my future?  Perhaps so.

An Impromptu Visit to San Francisco's "Little Italy"

Columbus Avenue lies at the heart of North Beach
Photo: Chronica Domus

Last Sunday was one of those rare occasions that found us with no social obligation to fulfill. We arose late, bleary eyed from having spent the previous evening at home with friends enjoying refreshing cucumber gimlet cocktails (it was, after all World Gin Day, and we simply could not let that slip by without a nod to Mother's Ruin, could we?).  The house was clean and orderly, our "to do" list had been checked off, and Patience our daughter was away for the weekend visiting relatives. The gaping hole in our schedule was unfamiliar territory but, rather opportune as I discovered.

"Why not trot down to North Beach for a late lunch and an afternoon walk?" I said to my husband.  And so, we did.

North Beach is a vibrant historic neighborhood located at the northeasterly corner of the city.  The area was home to the Beat poets of the 1950's and 1960's and to large numbers of American Italian families.  North Beach is often referred to as "Little Italy" for reasons that will immediately become apparent upon landing on the main drag, Columbus Avenue.

Chock full of Italian delicatessens selling specialty ingredients for the home cook, pizzerias, restaurants, bakeries, and cafés, North Beach is undeniably Italian in flavor. It is also home to two of the city's largest Catholic churches.

We just happened to be walking by when we spotted this fellow dashing across the street to meet his friends for lunch:

A Capuchin friar takes his leave of the church of St. Francis of Assisi

Photo: Chronica Domus

If you look carefully at the following photograph, you will see a few canine companions accompanying their owners who are seated at the church steps.  St. Francis of Assisi was, after all, a friend to all animals.  A small ceremony to bless them had just concluded shortly before our arrival, which coincided with the Feast of Saint Anthony being celebrated by the friars.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Also unbeknownst to me when I suggested we hot foot it to lunch, was that our impromptu visit coincided with the annual North Beach Festival.  That explained why the place was positively humming with masses of locals and tourists alike.

People, people, everywhere!

Oh, and the Transamerica Pyramid rising from the foot of Columbus Avenue

Photo: Chronica Domus

Food and beverage stands were set up along the length of several blocks of the neighborhood, together with small stages that would showcase a variety of live entertainment. Every restaurant and café was seemingly packed to the rafters.

Are we ever going to find a place to eat?

Photo: Chronica Domus

Sidewalk tables were occupied as well, with diners enjoying both the hubbub and crystalline blue skies. There would be no summer fog to dampen anyone's spirits this day.

Ah, finally, a table at Rose Pistola awaits us

Photo: Chronica Domus

We sought sustenance and sanctuary in the soothing atmosphere of Rose Pistola, which was, thank goodness, situated away from the melee of festival attendees.  The food here is simply marvelous. Trattoria-like in its simplicity, fresh, and impeccably prepared.  In a word delizioso!

Too full for dessert (at least I was), we waddled across the road to Mara's Italian bakery where we stocked up on some pastries, Italian style, for later.

One could easily be forgiven for mistaking this scene for so many like it in Italy

Photo: Chronica Domus

The selection of sweet treats on offer at Mara's was almost overwhelming.  Cannoli, biscotti, torrone... the delectable list goes on and on.

A much needed walk was in order to jolt us out of our postprandial torpor.  Down the road and around Washington Square we went, passing even more Italian bakeries, if you can believe it, until we found Saints Peter and Paul church.

 The twin spires rise 191 feet into the sky (notice how diminutive the substantial Victorian house appears by comparison)

Photo: Chronica Domus

Once inside, we toured the impressive space, which boasts an altar made of snow-white Carrara marble and a copy of Michelangelo's sculpture Pieta.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Now that we've had a chance to play tourist, it was time to hop into the motor car and head home.

Up, up into the sky!
A typical view of what one sees when traveling along the famously steep roads of San Francisco 

(better be sure the breaks and clutch are in good order)

Photo: Chronica Domus

Ah, finally home, and look what we brought with us to enjoy later in the day with coffee.

These Sfogliatelle pastries are almost too good-looking to eat... almost!

Photo: Chronica Domus

I do hope you enjoyed tagging along with us on our impromptu visit to North Beach. If you too are San Francisco bound in the future, do please plan on visiting this vibrant neighborhood for a taste of old San Francisco.  Perhaps not on a busy festival weekend though.

Arcane Dining Oddities: Papier-Mâché Wine Coasters

English Regency papier-mâché wine coasters nestle a pair of ring-neck 

decanters of the same period

Photo: Chronica Domus

I have long admired the elegant appurtenances of well laid dining tables of Regency England. Aesthetically restrained in form, they were the antithesis of excessive fussiness associated with Victorian tastes. And, unlike the confounding array of dining implements that materialized during Victoria's reign, which have long passed from favor (ice cream forks anyone?), basic dining utensils and table articles of the Regency are still recognizable to modern diners.  There is, however, one very practical item that has regrettably vanished from the landscape of the dining table; the papier-mâché wine coaster.

Our small but growing collection of early-nineteenth century papier-mâché wine coasters

Photo: Chronica Domus

Bottle coasters, decanter slides, or wine coasters are all terms used to describe the same thing.  Its purpose is to facilitate the act of sliding or coasting wine or spirit decanters to one's fellow dining companions with ease.  Baize, a coarse woolen material typically green in color, lines the bottom surface of this useful table article. It is the baize that ultimately enables the wine coaster to glide, or coast, across the polished surface of a dining table.

Although faded, the baize on this wine coaster, circa 1810, is original

Photo: Chronica Domus

Of course, if the table is to be set with a cloth, wine coasters are checked in their purpose and impeded from sliding. They do still function toward more practical ends, keeping them relevant, at least in our household. Who, I ask you, enjoys the labor of removing wine stains from their napery? Not I! So, when these coasters are set beneath our glass decanters, they do an admirable job of corralling the errant dribble of wine which may escape even the most careful of host.  One's lily white tablecloth remains just so.

Evidently, the tipsy Prince Regent chose wisely when selecting the color of his tablecloth. His over-worked wine coaster stood little chance of containing the waterfall of drips created during his bacchanalian bender

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You may be asking yourself why on earth such a thing might be constructed of paper, as moisture is its natural enemy.  As you may well imagine, papier-mâché wine coasters are somewhat of a rarity nowadays, at least when compared to their sturdier cousins born of silver and wood.  I am confident their scarcity has everything to do with the fact that great numbers of them were ruined through use, despite their lacquered surface which, in theory, promised a more durable finish.

This pair of deep green colored wine coasters, circa 1815 to 1820, is in exceptional shape due to the lacquered surface remaining intact

Photo: Chronica Domus

Ultimately, the passage of time would lead to their demise.  The modern habit of serving wine directly from the bottle did not help their cause either.  Although the majority of today's vintners employ modern filtration methods, eliminating pesky sediment and a genuine need to decant, we still opt to press our pretty decanters and their corresponding coasters into service. Besides, red wines in particular can benefit from aeration.  Surprisingly, so do whites. Unless you use a dedicated wine refrigerator that is perfectly programmed to cool white wines, most standard refrigerators overly-cool them.  Decanting lessens the chill factor making the experience of sipping a glass or three of Sauvignon blanc a far more delightful experience. Cheers!

Here's a snap of a dinner party we held for friends this past April showing the placement of our decanters and papier-mâché coasters at the head and foot of the dining table (prior to my husband having filled them). So much nicer than plonking bottles of wine directly on the table, would you not agree?

Photo: Chronica Domus

The papier-mâché wine coasters in our collection all date to the first half of the nineteenth century and are all English.  They make the perfect foil for the Regency period ring-neck decanters that rest within them during our dinner parties.

I purchased my first wine coaster, seen in the following photograph, from a dealer in London about a dozen years ago.  He told me that black coasters are as scarce as hen's teeth, which, of course immediately made me wonder if I would ever find another like it to assemble a pair. All these years later, I am still on the hunt. The sole decoration embellishing this coaster, which dates to about 1810, is a fine charcoal colored stripe around its top and base, sublimely subtle and rather lovely to my eye.

Photo: Chronica Domus

A more fanciful version for these papier-mâché wine coasters came in the form of a trolley.  Oh, the spectacle of sending these delightful vehicles into action and observing them being wheeled from one happy imbiber to the next!  I imagine such antics could easily get a little out of hand after downing one too many.  That is, if I were anywhere near them I mean.

A rare pair of papier-mâché decanter trolleys, circa 1850-20, could be yours for
the princely sum of $12,850

Source

I am not certain what this lozenge-shaped early toleware piece was intended for, but when I spotted its gilded tendrils and vine leaf decoration, I had to add it to my collection for use as a wine coaster.

What could this early toleware object have held?

Photo: Chronica Domus

Luckily for me, it is perfectly proportioned to hold a pair of early-nineteenth century barrel-shaped cut glass spirit decanters. I am, to say the least, thrilled with it.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Perhaps you too will unearth a wine coaster on your travels to a preferred antiques shop or an auction room.  If ever you do, I would encourage you to consider its purchase.

Photo: Chronica Domus

For the next time someone asks you to "Pass the port, please!", you'll not only be doing so with style and ease, but with the knowledge that your tabletop is to remain unmarred from the effects of a good vintage.