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!

The Ivory & Sterling Mystery Thingamajig Revealed

Did you correctly guess the purpose of the ivory and sterling thingamajig?

Photo: Chronica Domus

I have had such fun reading through the slew of comments received in response to the ivory and sterling thingamajig.  In fact, it has been one of the most popular mystery items in the entire series, inspiring many of you to come out of the woodwork in an attempt to solve this confounding little implement's intended purpose.  Without further ado, let's get to the answer.

The two most popular guesses were that it was either one of these ...

A marrow spoon or scoop

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or one of these ...

A Stilton scoop

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followed in hot pursuit by one of these ...

A cheese corer

(this one is an English nineteenth century oak, brass, and steel corer belonging to my husband)

Photo: Chronica Domus

I had a sneaking suspicion that these would be the top guesses, all plausible to be certain but, surprisingly, all incorrect.  

Now, I'll be honest and admit to you that I purchased the mystery thingamajig because I too thought it was a scoop to aid in the delivery of Stilton to one's plate. I have been on the hunt for such a scoop for some time but those I've come across have been rather large and unwieldy, and better suited for use with larger truckles.  

Plunged into a truckle of crumbly Stilton cheese the shovel-shaped scoop does an admirable job of delivering cheese to plate with minimal fuss and mess

Photo: Chronica Domus

Which is why when I first set eyes upon the mystery thingamajig, I knew it was going home with me.  At just shy of six inches, it was perfect for a smaller truckle. It could also, I supposed, be used to scoop out potted Stilton.  As a bonus, the sterling shank was fashioned into an unusual hemispherical scoop rather than the typical shovel shape.  

The description on the dealer's tag read "English sterling Stilton scoop with bone handle" but my teenage daughter saw things differently

Photo: Chronica Domus

My observant and inquisitive teenage daughter took one look at my newly acquired prize and deemed it an apple corer.  "An apple corer?" I repeated, "surely not".  I was left somewhat slack-jawed by the suggestion but, suddenly, the shape of the scoop made perfect sense.  Sure enough, a quick gander on the Internet confirmed her suspicions.  Who'da thunk it?!  

Here's one made by Thomas Hyde I of London, circa 1770 ...

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... and another, a Georgian ivory and sterling apple corer, circa 1816

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I marvel at the fact that I am now the proud owner of an apple corer for the first time in my life.  And, its an elegant one at that.  I had no idea such utilitarian kitchen objects could be elevated to the sublime.  

My thingamajig apple corer was made in London by silversmith Henry Holland Sr. in 1853

Photo: Chronica Domus

It does a masterly job of removing the core from the last of the winter farmers' market apples

Photo: Chronica Domus

Photo: Chronica Domus

What a satisfyingly elegant way of performing a basic kitchen task

Photo: Chronica Domus

As it turns out, my apple corer is far from being deemed one of the more elegant examples available for sale during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.  Those were made entirely of sterling silver, like the one pictured below:

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Some apple corers were even designed to be portable and used during travel or for picnicking.  The corer can be unscrewed from its handle and stored within it when not in use.

A Georgian sterling silver traveling apple corer, London circa 1803

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If you are interested in learning more about these little-known utensils, I highly recommend you read Dorothea Burstyn's informative article found here.

Thank you all for participating in what I hope has been a fun and enlightening guessing game.  I believe my daughter won this round and has earned her ranking, having been the only participant to have correctly solved the mystery of the ivory and sterling thingamajig.  She was also the inspiration for this post, of course.

Source: Pinterest

Do please join me in giving her a well-deserved round of appl(e)ause.

Mystery Object: An Ivory and Sterling Thingamajig

Photo: Chronica Domus

I do so love the word thingamajig.  It is a delightful word that, in my ever so humble opinion, is underappreciated and not used often enough.  Today's post provides the perfect opportunity to change all that.

Thingamajig is defined as a thing whose name one has either forgotten or does not know.  In the case of this particular object, or thingamajig, I thought I knew its name and its intended purpose until, that was, my very clever teenage daughter Patience entered the discussion.

Hmmm... I wonder what the purpose of this ivory and sterling silver thingamajig might be

Photo: Chronica Domus

She was with me the day I purchased it and saw how tickled pink I was to have finally stumbled across such an unusual example - or so I thought - of a longed-for item.  Upon our return home, I excitedly removed said object from the layers of tissue paper within which the store clerk had wrapped it, and gave it a quick polish until it gleamed.  It was then that my daughter casually put forth a suggestion.  In that brief light bulb moment, Patience had me viewing the darn thing with fresh eyes.  

The back of the mystery thingamajig's shank showing full British hallmarks

Photo: Chronica Domus

Sure enough, a quick gander on the Internet only confirmed what she had already successfully sussed out.  No longer relegated to thingamajig status, the object could finally be defined by its true name and purpose.

So, what do you think this almost six inch long, ivory and sterling silver item is, and what was it used for?  All shall be revealed in my next post.  In the meantime, I very much look forward to reading your supposals and contemplations with interest.  And remember, no peeking on the Internet allowed!


Nota bene: Comment moderation will be enabled to give everyone a chance to offer their suggestions.  

The Porcelain Mystery Object Revealed

This diminutive drummer boy has a very specific purpose - can you guess what it is?

Photo: Chronica Domus

Well, I must say you are a clever bunch!  Thank you all for playing along in the latest mystery object game.  I can now reveal that the little drummer boy is indeed a vintage French féve.

For those of you that haven't a clue what in the world I'm rattling on about, a féve is a good luck charm or trinket that is baked into a celebratory cake called a Kings Cake, or to use its French name, a Galette de Rois.

Galette de Rois

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Kings Cake is traditionally served on Epiphany, January 6, to commemorate the day the Magi Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar bestowed gifts upon the infant Jesus.  In fact, a figure of a baby is often used as a féve in a Galette de Rois.  In New Orleans, Kings Cakes make an appearance in local bakeries anywhere from January 6 right up until Mardi Gras, which happens to fall on February 13 this year.  It is said that he who finds the féve is crowned king for the day and reaps all the benefits of the good luck that comes along with the charm.

Other countries have their own traditions centered around finding lucky trinkets in sweet treats.  Take the British, for example, and the long-held tradition of baking a silver six-penny piece into Christmas puddings.

Ah, there it is, the prized silver sixpence!

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Greece and some of the other Balkan countries bake coins into Vasilopita, a cake served at midnight on New Year's Day.  Vasilopita is named in honor of Basil of Caesarea and his famous coin and jewelry cake, baked and distributed to local families.  Here's a link to that story.

No Vasilopita is complete without the addition of a Drachma Euro

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The féve I selected to feature in my mystery object post is one of six that have somehow found their way to me.  I believe they were made during the first half of the twentieth century, or possibly earlier judging by their lovely muted colors and traditional forms.  Modern féves tend to be garishly decorated in lurid colors, and many are fashioned after popular cartoon characters.

Apologies to Minion fans but these little googly-eyed féves would be enough to
put me off my cake!

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Let me introduce you to my enchanting drummer boy's Lilliputian companions.

This lantern-carrying féve resembles a fisherman from a bygone era ...

Photo: Chronica Domus

... and these peasant women must surely be his shore-side companions

Photo: Chronica Domus

Here's the ship's captain and his young deckhand

Photo: Chronica Domus

How could one fail to be delighted at finding any of these charming fellows peeking from within a slice of cake?

Half a dozen years of good luck

Photo: Chronica Domus

Perhaps you too have had the good fortune of discovering a similar charm in a cake or a pudding.  Do please tell me about it, or of any other similar holiday tradition revolving around the unearthing of such lucky trinkets.

Thank you once again for being such good sports.  I look forward to sharing another mystery object with you in the not-too-distant future.

A Porcelain Mystery Object

Photo: Chronica Domus

It just dawned on me that the last time I published a post on a mystery object was last February.  So, today I present you with another, a little porcelain drummer boy, for your consideration.

The object is a scant taller than an inch in height and is attractively decorated in pleasing muted tones.  Although he requires no other companions, there are plenty more where he came from.

Do please tell me what you think his purpose is.  I will reveal all in my next post.

Happy guessing!

The Treen Mystery Object Revealed

Did you guess the purpose of the little acorn correctly?

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Thank you all for being such good sports and participating in the fun and games of guessing the purpose of my diminutive nineteenth century ebony treen acorn which I recently acquired in England. I greatly enjoyed reading your thoughts on the mystery object's function, and how you settled upon your conclusions.

Several of you guessed that the acorn is a child's toy, much in the vein of a spinning top, and I can see why:

A nineteenth century boxwood spinning top

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Others thought that perhaps its purpose is related to spinning yarn, like the vintage wooden spindle seen below:

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A few of you reckoned that the acorn's cap is removable, which it is. The cap is indeed threaded and requires unscrewing from the acorn.  Now that we've established the acorn is hollow, we can deduce that it is designed as a receptacle.  But, a receptacle for what exactly?  Let's continue examining the other suggestions put forth.

When I published my post I fully expected at least one of my clever readers to posit the acorn to be a nutmeg grater.   I was proved correct when "columnist" threw his hat into the ring.  You can see why below:

A handsome nineteenth century treen nutmeg grater

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Georgian nutmeg graters were often fashioned in the form of an acorn, constructed of either silver or turned wood.  Although I have often fancied owning - and using - such a grater, I have yet to find just the right one to haul home.  When I do, of course, you'll be the first to know about it.  In fact, when I initially laid eyes upon the treen acorn, I too believed it to be a nutmeg grater.  Looks can be so terribly deceiving at times.

A recurring theme throughout the comments was that the acorn is a receptacle for smelling salts or snuff.  While certainly a plausible theory, considering the nineteenth century's obsession with noses, the true purpose of the acorn has yet to be revealed.  Let's keep going.

"Kindly pass the smelling salts madam, I can barely share the same air as those unshod feet!"

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For those of you that guessed "a sewing kit" or "a needle case", you came so very close!  Alas, the two inch acorn can neither accommodate the length of a needle nor nestle multiple sewing accoutrements within its hollow.

It does, however, conceal a lone related object, and here it is:

Aha! It's a thimble case

Photo: Chronica Domus

Bravo to Janet, Janie, and Jim for correctly guessing the purpose of the mystery treen object.  Please, do feel free to take a well-deserved bow.

The thimble is elegantly concealed within the hollow treen acorn

Photo: Chronica Domus

Thank you all once again for participating in what I hope has been an entertaining and enlightening post on a charming and handsome domestic object, long ago made by caring hands.  I have considered adding the thimble case to my sewing kit, but find it's beauty too captivating to squirrel away in a box that rarely sees the light of day.  Better, I think, to have it rest within a saucer that is placed upon a side table in our drawing room. That way it might just catch the eye of one of our guests and become the focus of an amusing guessing game. Would you not agree?

A Treen Mystery Object

Photo: Chronica Domus

When I lived in Kent as a young girl, our house was situated opposite an ancient oak woodland. 'The Woods', as we called it, became an almost daily playground for my sisters and me.  We spent many happy hours larking about the stately trees, enjoying spring walks gathering wood anemones and bluebells, and playing in the knee-high piles of leaves that carpeted the woodland floor later in the autumn.

I delighted in finding plump acorns that had blown onto our property from our neighbor's enormous oak tree.  I viewed these as miniature works of natural art. Often, the acorns separated from their caps and magically took hold in our garden's fertile soil.  Sadly, it was my job to remove the fragile saplings before our garden turned into a woodland of its own.

My childhood fascination and fondness for acorns is what initially attracted me to the two inch ebony treen object you see in the above photograph.  It was laying in a glass cabinet full of other nineteenth century treasures in one of the shops I visited on a recent antiques hunting expedition.

Asking the shopkeeper to unlock her cabinet so that I could take a closer look at the item, I soon discovered its purpose.  I was smitten.  Naturally, the acorn came home with me.

I do so enjoy a good guessing game and hope you do too.  Can you guess the function of my little acorn?  Remember, no cheating allowed through the use of your preferred search engine!

Arcane Dining Oddities: The Mystery Trident Fork Revealed

Well, that was a lot of fun!  Thank you all for playing along and taking a stab at demystifying the dining utensil I featured in my prior post.  I enjoyed reading your guesses and was not at all surprised that some of you thought the fork would be used to help carve or serve meat.  It is certainly hefty enough and would be quite suited to lifting a slice or two of roast beef or ham to place upon one's plate during Sunday lunch.

Won't you help yourself to a slice or two of bread?

Photo: Chronica Domus

Well done to those of you who posited the fork had something to do with bread.  The trident-shaped utensil was indeed designed for the express purpose of delivering one's daily bread safely to one's plate without actually touching said bread in the process. In all honesty, I find this all a little too genteel for my liking and much prefer to pass the bread plate or basket to my guests so that they can help themselves with their very own fingers.  It is efficient and not at all fussy, don't you agree? However, I have found other uses for this beautiful arcane piece of cutlery so it remains a practical item when entertaining even to this day.  We pass the fork alongside a plate of  hot baked potatoes, or whenever we serve individual Yorkshire puddings at dinner, or popovers for brunch.  During the summer months, when watermelons are at their most flavorful, a bread fork is the perfect delivery system for helping oneself to large pieces of the refreshing fruit.

The bread fork was a popular item at formally set tables in the United Kingdon during the mid-nineteenth century and into the early decades of the twentieth. Obviously, Bertie Wooster and his natty friends at the Drones Club managed quite well without.

One of the infamous bread roll tosses during a typical luncheon at the Drones Club
Nota bene: This particular author would love nothing more than to join in on the rollicking good fun being had by all and might soon attempt such antics at her own dining table under the right circumstances.

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It was once considered quite impolite to touch most food items with bare hands, but bread was one of the few exception to this rule. As such, it really baffles the mind as to why these forks were even invented.  Ironically, polite society dictated that once a slice of bread or roll was safely deposited on a diner's plate with the use of the bread fork, it was perfectly acceptable to break it apart with fingers for consumption.

I believe my fork was made toward the end of the nineteenth century and was likely marketed to middle-class families due to the quality of the materials and design. I've seen similar bread forks constructed of lighter weight pressed metals that were electroplated in nickel silver with mother-of-pearl handles. I've also encountered handles of simulated ivory and also of stag antler, the latter of which was one of the dearer (sorry for the pun) examples available for purchase.

Now that we are all well versed in the use of this arcane dining oddity, I wonder how long it will be until you too run into one for sale at an antiques shop or flea market. Perhaps when you do, you'll consider taking it home and finding a new use for it which is, after all, part of the fun of owning these things.  At the very least, it will make for an interesting dinner conversation.

Arcane Dining Oddities: Poseidon's Trident? Devilish Pitchfork?

Can you guess the purpose of this fork?

Photo: Chronica Domus

Hot on the heels of Lindaraxa's marvelous post about a mystery dining implement that she so deliciously teased her loyal readers with - and quite frankly left this author befuddled and on the edge of her seat awaiting the big reveal - comes a mystery object from my own collection.

I have toyed with the idea of publishing a post on my Poseidon's trident (or would that be a devilish pitchfork?) for a number of weeks now and Lindaraxa's tantalizing conundrum finally provided the impetus I sought to get my act in gear.  I suspect, like me, you too may enjoy a little puzzle to rattle your gray matter.

Admittedly, the task of this treasured little item delivers something far less exotic to hungry diners at table than Lindaraxa's fork.  The trident is made of sterling silver and is mounted to a faux-ivory handle by way of a decorative collar.  Aside from this minor decoration, the seven and a half inch utensil is really rather spare, which to my eye makes it all the more appealing.

I espied my mystery object laying in a glass case of an antiques shop in England about a dozen years ago. When I asked the assistant what it was that I was looking at, and she enlightened me, well, there was really only one thing for it.  I had to have it.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Can you guess the purpose of this fork?  Remember, no cheating through the use of your search engine now!