An Autumn Dinner Party At Home

Nota bene: This is rather a long post on what I hope you will find an enjoyable account of a recent dinner party we held at home, and the preparations involved in making it all happen.

After the lull of summer, and the more casual al fresco entertaining of friends that goes on around here, we are always ready for a change of pace by the time autumn rolls around.  So, hatching a plan to rev things up a few notches, we began planning a small at-home-old-fashioned-sit-down-dinner-party back in early September. Now, I say "old-fashioned" because it appears to me that with few exceptions, the at-home-sit-down-dinner-party has become a rarity, at least in my world it is.  In an age where restaurants are so numerous, and everyone is short on time, I can very well understand the instinct to meet friends at a local eatery for an impromptu dinner.  We often dine out ourselves and, of course, if that is the only opportunity we have to catch up with acquaintances, we'll take it. However, there is nothing quite like an enjoyable at-home-old-fashioned-sit-down-dinner-party shared with a group of fun friends over the course of a long evening of tasty libations, scrumptious food, and delicious banter to make for a memorable occasion.  Now, doesn't all this sound infinitely more pleasing than having to put a time limit on a restaurant table, and worrying about when it will be turned over to the next hungry diner in line?

The door bell will soon be ringing, announcing the arrival of our dinner guests 

Photo: Chronica Domus

This past Saturday evening we kicked things off by hosting our first dinner party of the season.  Once we had secured a date when all of our guests would be available, it soon dawned on us that two of them would be sharing birthdays very close to the day of our party.  Well, that was all the impetus needed to ratchet things up and make the evening even more special.  However, before the first cork was popped in celebration, there was much to prepare.  These things take lots of effort and lots of planning to pull off successfully, so please don't be fooled into thinking otherwise by the "effortless entertaining" set.  Frankly, there is no such thing.  However, with adequate preparation, much can be accomplished.

As this was to be a small dinner party, we could handle all the food preparations ourselves. Larger gatherings, of course, would require outside help.  Once we had settled on the menu, which included recipes we were already comfortable cooking (do not attempt to make anything you are not already familiar with - your guests are not your guinea pigs for the evening!), we set about sourcing the ingredients.  A call to our favorite fishmonger was placed several days in advance of our dinner party to insure our order could be fulfilled.

Next, alcoholic beverages.  Champagne, port, white and red wine, check!  I leave this important task in the capable hands of my trusty husband who does the lion's share of our household's wine and spirits purchasing.  He seems to take more than a passing interest in keeping our wine cellar stocked, and we are rarely caught short of enjoying an evening's worth of imbibing.  One can have quite the party down there!

Hmm....decisions, decisions... but wait, let's take all three bottles upstairs!
Photo: Chronica Domus

The day before a dinner party is spent fussing over such details as the tarting up of the dining table, selecting flowers, and making sure the house is shipshape and Bristol fashion.

An early morning run to the San Francisco Flower Market is the first order of the day. If you are anything like me, you will easily find yourself becoming quite giddy at the sight of mounds of gorgeous greenery and flowers on offer.  Inevitably, it takes a few laps around the market before I can finally focus and settle on my purchases.  In the meantime, my husband patiently awaits in the Volvo ready to assist with packing it all into the boot trunk (thank you, darling!).

The Volvo packed with the morning's spoils

Photo: Chronica Domus

Once we return home, I turn my attention to tomorrow's menu.  I get to work making the carrot, leek, and thyme soup, and then poach Bosc pears in Merlot wine and spices.

Poached pears are simple, delicious, and elegant, just add vanilla ice cream or heavy whipped cream

Photo: Chronica Domus

These shall be eaten for dessert and are very easy to make.  The pears also provide quite the "wow" factor when presented at table.  I also make a batch of cheese straws that will be served, alongside other hors d'œuvres, in the drawing room with champagne.  While I'm racing around the kitchen, my husband takes his leave to shop for cheeses, chocolates, and assorted comestibles.  Thank goodness he's willing and able.  He enjoys the activities revolving around our dinner party preparations as much as I do.  

Having decided weeks ago that I would set the dining table with my recently acquired creamware, I have a last minute change of heart.  Realizing there would be seven of us at table (I only have six dinner plates), and no bowls from which to serve the soup, I quickly resort to "Plan B".  Old Paris Porcelain will suffice.  It is always wise to set the dining table and round up all the serving pieces to be used the day prior to a dinner party.  Averting last-minute pesky issues that could very well send the coolest of hostesses into a tizzy is the goal here.

I could feed a small army off Old Paris Porcelain dishes which, somehow, I've amassed in a variety of colors over the years - for this occasion, a classic gilt ring decoration seems appropriate

Photo: Chronica Domus

It is now Saturday morning, the day of our dinner party.  Although we had spent a lovely Friday evening over at our neighboring friends' house for dinner (thank you Jeannette and Harvey!), there is no sleeping in on this particular morning.  Locally grown seasonal vegetables need to be picked up at the farmers' market, where we are always assured of the best selection and freshest produce available. I would not dare leave such details to the last minute were it not for the fact that we are fortunate to have easy access to a reliable and excellent farmers' market.

Three bunches of organic carrots, two heads of cauliflower, and three bundles of brocollini will be added to the potatoes already at home to form part of this evening's menu

Photo: Chronica Domus

Next, I must bring the flowers and branches up from our basement and make three low arrangements for the dining room table, and two for the drawing room's mantelshelf. Meanwhile, my husband drives to the fishmongers to pick up our order, four pounds of fresh Alaskan halibut.

Dahlias, autumn's best flowers, in black and salmon pink, miniature ornamental cabbages, and green pin oak leaves await in a bucket
(note: It's best to avoid highly fragrant flowers on a dinner table - candles too for that matter!)

Photo: Chronica Domus

One of two diminutive posies that will grace the dining room table this evening - these stand in a pair of Anglo-Irish cut glass footed bowls

Photo: Chronica Domus

Once I've set the flowers on the table, I light the candles in the room so that I can snap a few photographs for the purpose of this blog post, and before I forget to do so later in the evening when the party is in full swing.  I think it is all beginning to look rather festive, don't you?

The third arrangement sits at the center of the table in a black basalt pot

Photo: Chronica Domus

Photo: Chronica Domus

With only a few hours remaining until our guests arrive, the dining room is almost ready for action

Photo: Chronica Domus

Later in the afternoon, I prep the vegetables that will be roasted (carrots, cauliflower) and sautéed (brocollini).  I make the base of the Béarnaise sauce which I finish right before we serve the fish.  It takes but a few minutes to prepare, as does the fish.  I leave my husband peeling potatoes while I set up the dishes that will hold the hors d'œuvres in the drawing room. I remember too that the refrigerated cheeses need arranging on a platter and set out, with plenty of time to come to room temperature before the cheese course arrives at table.  

With the frenzy of kitchen activity at full-throttle, we take a short break and perform a last minute walk through of the public rooms in the house.  We want to insure that every detail is taken care of before our guests ring the doorbell.  After all, our goal in hosting such a dinner party is to spend an enjoyable evening in the company of our dear friends, and to make them all feel as comfortable and as welcomed as possible. 

At five-thirty, once everything that can be taken care of ahead of time has been, we get ourselves party ready.  Obviously we want to look our very best when greeting our friends at the front door, who will also arrive dressed appropriately for such a celebratory dinner (this means at minimum ties for the gents in our merry party). With thirty minutes to go, my husband makes a quick gee and tee for himself. I, wisely, forgo my cocktail - just this once - but promise to make up for things once the bubbly begins flowing.  The red wine and port is decanted, and the white wine and champagne is chilling on ice.

My husband lights the fireplace right before six-thirty, the time our guests are expected. This is the first fire of the autumn and I can't think of anything more welcoming than the glowing flames of a roaring fire lighting up a room during the cooler months of the year.

Photo: Chronica Domus

The doorbell rings at approximately six-forty which means it's party time. Once everyone has arrived, we toast two of our dear friends with birthday wishes over delicious champagne and hors d'œuvres, and spend a convivial hour chatting and laughing away like there is no tomorrow. 

With vegetables roasting in the oven, and the candles lit, we proceed to the dining room and begin our dinner. First course, soup.  But wait, something is amiss!  I've forgotten to set out the soup spoons. Yes, even with all the careful planning that is required to carry off such an enjoyable at-home-old-fashioned-sit-down-dinner-party, something invariably gets forgotten.  With minimal fuss, my mea culpa is swiftly put right, and after a good chuckle by all, we finally set about enjoying a most delectable dinner.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Throughout the evening, everyone exclaimed what a wonderful time they were having and how marvelous it was to spend such an agreeable evening in each other's delightful company.  It really was quite lovely.  After dinner, we retired to the drawing room for chocolates and more drinks, via a quick breather on the balcony to admire the night view and take in the fresh air.  It was just past midnight when our first friend took her leave of us, with promises of a reciprocal dinner soon.

I toddled off to bed around two o'clock in the morning, still high from the evening's merriment.  I had somehow mustered up the strength to wash all the silver and dishes before doing so. My dear old husband just couldn't take it any longer.  He retired an hour earlier, exhausted but happy.

The next morning, I slowly and gingerly tackled the remainder of the fallout.  Glasses, pots, and pans needed washing.  I performed my best impersonation of a scullery maid, hand-washing all of the antique glassware I enjoy using so much.  The English Regency champagne flutes looked so pretty lined up on the drainer.  I use my Irish linen glass cloths to dry those and the other wine glasses we used last night. They are the very best cloths available for wicking away moisture and, most importantly, are lint-free. Your glasses will be sparkling clean in no time.  I encourage you to invest in a handful of these useful little towels if you too assume the position of a scullery maid in your household.

Irish linen glass cloths make light work of drying one's beautiful glassware

Photo: Chronica Domus

Now, if only the task of removing dripping candle wax was as enjoyable.

The remains of an evening well spent
Photo: Chronica Domus

The scene around the dining room's candle sconces was just as piteous in the morning light.  Ah well, this is but a small price to pay for the honey colored light that sets a room aglow.

At least I still had these beauties to gaze upon, reminding me of our marvelous dinner party.  I can't wait to do it all again.

Photo: Chronica Domus

I do hope you enjoyed this post, and that you too might consider reviving the tradition of hosting an at-home-old-fashioned-sit-down-dinner-party in the not too distant future.  It really is a lot of fun.

We Plough The Fields And Scatter

Regular readers of this blog are already familiar with my fondness for sharing my garden's bounty with friends and neighbors.  This past Monday, it was with particular pleasure that I was on the receiving end of things.  My dear friend Kathy presented me with a lovely offering from her garden. I was utterly charmed. What a swell way to kick off the week!

Kathy had picked some Fuyu persimmons from her tree to share with my family.  She explained that some of them had yet to ripen, assuring me they would, given time. Kathy had managed to nab the low hanging fruit for us before the birds sunk their hungry beaks into them. They were welcome, she said, to the persimmons growing beyond arm's reach.  How thoughtful, indeed!

A lovely gift of persimmons held in my newest acquisition, an early creamware fruit basket

Photo: Chronica Domus

Native to Japan, persimmons were introduced to California during the nineteenth century. I was not at all familiar with them while living in England and have since discovered they are called "Sharon fruit" there, and are far more readily found in English markets nowadays.  Visually, I think persimmons are one of the most beguiling of all autumn's fruits.  I derive much pleasure from their cheery burnt orange color and lobed leafy caps. Gathered in an early creamware fruit basket, I think they make an excellent subject for a still life oil painting, don't you?

Kathy also presented me with another delightful gift, a seeded sunflower head. She thought my daughter in particular would be interested in examining this natural curiosity, and had thoughtfully taken the time to dry it in the warm autumn sunshine. She suggested that we extract the seeds and dry them in the oven for a healthy snack, but also to save a few of the raw seeds to plant in our garden next year. I thought that to be a capital idea and shall be sure to do just that.

The beautiful underpinnings of Kathy's dried sunflower seed head

Photo: Chronica Domus

Right-side up, the head is loaded with nutritious seed

Photo: Chronica Domus

Of course, we mustn't forget the birds and our occasional squirrel visitor, as they prepare for the leaner months ahead.  After discussing the possibility with my daughter of either eating the seeds ourselves or feeding our winged and furry friends with them, she kindly offered up the bounty to the critters. We took the seed head over to our old pear tree and nestled it among the branches.  I'm sure this delicious autumn feast will be devoured in no time.

Nestled among the branches of the old pear tree we wondered how long it would take our avian and sciurine friends to discover their special treat
Photo: Chronica Domus

Well, that didn't take long!
A mere twenty-four hours later, the sunflower head was denuded of its seeds

Photo: Chronica Domus

Kathy's thoughtful harvest time gifts brought back memories of autumns in England, in particular those of my formative years as a student.  A favorite hymn that was taught to all school-aged children was suddenly at the forefront of my mind. It begins "We plough the fields and scatter the good seed on the land...", and it was enthusiastically and joyfully belted out during early autumn when we children immersed ourselves in the preparations of the Harvest Festival.

I recall the excitement of preparing food boxes and baskets to be distributed locally to the elderly. We would take great pride in decorating brown cardboard boxes with bits of festive wrapping paper or scraps of fabric.  The baskets and boxes would be filled with whatever fresh fruits, vegetables, flowers, or canned goods our parents had sent along to school with us as our contribution to the festival.  Once we were all satisfied that we did our very best to make our offerings as attractive as possible, the boxes and baskets would be taken into the school's gymnasium and artfully displayed on a groaning table much like the one shown in the charming photograph below.

This image perfectly captures the essence of the Harvest Festivals I recall as a young school girl in England

Source

The entire school would congregate for a special Harvest Festival assembly, singing and giving thanks for the bounty that was laid before us.  The excitement was not over quite yet though.  We each had a very important task to perform.  At the conclusion of our rousing assembly, we students would file off into small groups with our teachers and walk to the neighboring houses of the elderly. It was always such an exciting moment to ring a doorbell, then wait.  To us, it seemed like a lifetime until, finally, the door would open wide.  Jolly septuagenarians beaming smiles, oohing and aahing, would greet us while eagerly accepting our little harvest gifts. At that moment, all was right with the world.  We had played our small part in spreading a little joy to the faces of those we visited.

I leave you with an image of a recent blazing October sky, the view from our balcony that overlooks the gently rolling hills.  It is not too often that we witness such dramatic color in our evening skies (billowy silver fog is more the norm) yet, somehow, it all seemed so perfectly fitting. A harvest sky at harvest time.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Do you have a particularly fond memory of this most bountiful time of the year? Please, do tell me about it.

Relics Reimagined: A Morandiesque Hanging Shelf

A rescued early-twentieth century spice rack has found new life as a hanging wall shelf corralling diminutive earthenware vessels à la Giorgio Morandi

(Please excuse my crooked photography. The hanging shelf is, in fact, mounted perfectly plumb)

Photo: Chronica Domus

There is a new addition to the stairwell, an area we consider a transitional space between the living quarters upstairs and the basement level leading to the garden.  I'm thrilled to bits with it.

I've been on the hunt these past few years for a simple hanging wall shelf and I finally located one just the other day while walking Mavro around the neighborhood early on a bright and sunny morn. It was lurking on the basement floor of a house up the hill from ours, and was sold to me for a mere three dollars at the family's tag sale. I wish I had taken a snap shot of it in its dusty and dirty state.  It was, quite frankly, a hideous mess. I'm sure the man who sold it to me thought me quite mad, of course. "Who in their right mind would want that?" I imagined was going through his mind as we exchanged shelf for dough. The wooden backing board had long ago been subjected to two crude holes, haphazardly off-set and not at all neatly centered as one might expect. Obviously, those required some attention.  A bit of patching and sanding was in order.  The remnant of thinly applied cream colored paint was still in evidence.  I believe the shelf once hung in the original 1920's era kitchen of the house in which I found it, and may have been used to hold tins of spices and seasonings. Despite the wall shelf's degraded appearance, it was still very sturdy and obviously well-made in its day by a carpenter, probably by the same hands that built the other cabinetry in the kitchen.  Ah, how one longs for the days before the dreaded flat-pack arrived on scene, killing the local carpenter.

With a gentle sanding and a lick or two of paint, I am now the proud owner of a practical and charming little hanging shelf that would very probably have met its death at the local dump had I not stepped in to rescue it. I think it looks perfectly lovely mounted on the wall of our stairwell, placed above the cache of traditional cleaning tools. Finally, a place for all my little earthenware vessels and flower scissors, making them easily accessible as I make my way back upstairs from the garden in readiness for arranging the little blooms I would have just gathered.  Oh, and I mustn't forget to mention the sweet little mochaware piggy bank, long-ago smashed to pieces and lovingly re-glued having been enjoyed by an excited child surely saving for a treasure. It looks quite content sharing real estate alongside the other diminutive items on the shelf.

Photo: Chronica Domus

After spending a bit of time fussing with the placement of all the objects, I stepped back to admire my handiwork.  I noticed the hanging shelf had taken on a Giorgio Morandiesque air in its composition. Would you not agree?

A still life by Giorgio Morandi

Source

Life imitates art

Photo: Chronica Domus

Yet another still life by the artist
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A corner of Mr. Morandi's studio showing his collection of vessels which inspired the artist's oeuvre

Source

The next time you find an object that is destined for the landfill, do consider for a moment whether it may be something you could reimagine with a little elbow grease. You will not only be rewarded with a useful or decorative item for pennies on the dollar, but you will have also played your part as a green citizen of our planet.

Tell me, do you enjoy the benefits of open shelving in your house, or do you prefer to stash your items in cupboards behind closed doors?

Would You Consider Swiping Someone's Opera Tickets?

The California Theater's dazzling light display announcing the evening's entertainment

Photo: Chronica Domus

Ah, autumn has, at last, arrived.  A prelude to cooler temperatures, falling leaves, and the start of the social season. For devotees of the performing arts, autumn heralds the beginning of a season packed with live performances of ballet, music, and theater.

This past Friday night it was time to kick things off in style.  Donning one's best dress, frock coat, and heels (GSL approved height, of course), my family and I made our way to a performance of Giacomo Puccini's Tosca at the California Theater in San Jose.  Some of you may recall my post last November where I wrote about our evening's entertainment at this marvelous little jewel box of a theater.

A door attendant usher's us into the theater

Photo: Chronica Domus

Having booked our seats several weeks in advance via the convenience of my computer, we arrived with adequate time to stop by the "will call" office and collect our tickets before the performance began.  I came prepared with a print out confirming our reservation.  I was quite taken aback when the ticket assistant nonchalantly said "Oh, no need for that, just give me your last name".   She ran her fingers deftly along the neat stack of papers in front of her and located our tickets within seconds. "Wow", I said "no need for a credit card or identification before you hand those over to me?". The assistant shot a puzzled look my way, as though she thought me a little crazy, and said "No one wants to steal opera tickets".  My husband dryly interjected with "Yes, there's not exactly a black market for them is there", which caused the assistant great amusement.

Isn't it funny, I thought, they were absolutely correct.  Who would ever think of swindling opera patrons out of their tickets?  With few exceptions, people are not exactly banging down the doors, fighting their way into theaters across the globe to catch the latest performances of operas which were written centuries ago.  For that matter, I don't see much ticket scalping going on at these events either, at least that's been my experience.  Perhaps the local scalpers were all doing brisk business last Friday down the road in San Francisco at the AC/DC concert.  Yes, that must be it.

The beautiful amber-lit entry hall buzzing with excited patrons listening to live organ music before the performance commenced

Photo: Chronica Domus

Although the house was jam packed with opera lovers on the evening we attended the compellingly performed Tosca, I wondered what is was about opera that fails to appeal to a wider audience. Was it because the guiding lights of the operatic stage have failed to achieve movie or rock star status, bar a few notable exceptions, of course? Was it that new operas were in need of being written for the younger set, or was it that the old favorites have lost their sparkle?

My program balancing upon my lap

Photo: Chronica Domus

Tosca was my teenage daughter's third opera and I'm thrilled to report that she wholeheartedly enjoyed the experience. During the first of two intermissions, I asked her if she was able to follow along easily with the super-titles. She proceeded to give me a summary of what we'd just watched which convinced me that she was indeed absorbing every detail.  At the conclusion of the evening, she declared Tosca had been her favorite opera to date because of the story's final twist, which took her by complete surprise.  I loved hearing this because it meant that she was as captivated as her father and I were during the evening.

We plan on doing this all over again next month for The Marriage of Figaro. Interestingly, and shockingly to me at least, the price for concert tickets to the hottest rock band or pop diva in town (and even at some high-profile sporting events) are almost three fold that of tickets to the opera.  I'd hate to hazard a guess as to what the cost of scalped tickets for those events might be.  And, to think, the declining interest in attending live operatic performances has been blamed on ticket prices.  I believe for such an enriching experience, one receives great value for money.

I encourage those that have yet to venture into this form of live entertainment to bite the bullet this season and venture forth in support of their local opera company.  Where else can one pass a few pleasant and civilizing hours witnessing the marvels of the human voice, view superb acting talent, hear live orchestral music played flawlessly, enjoy sumptuous costumes and creatively conceived stage sets?

Tell me, if given the choice, which is your preferred choice of live entertainment?

 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.

Adventures With Tubers

Chitted potatoes ready for planting

Photo: Chronica Domus

In another life, I might have been a very contented gentlewoman farmer, or gentleman farmer's wife, as would have more likely been the case.  I'd be living in an elegant country house adjoining my land, tending to the vegetables, fruits, and flowers that I've grown in abundance for my family. Always working with nature, not against.  This is the only scenario I have conjured to help explain my dilettante approach to all things agrarian.

Back in the real world, I content myself with my pocket-sized garden, growing whatever takes my fancy, often on a whim.  It is this approach, and a comment made by Spud, an occasional commenter on this blog, that led me to grow potatoes for the very first time this year.  Spud, as you might have guessed, is a fan of the humble potato, which got me thinking why it was that I had not yet attempted to grow them myself.  Like most people, I adore potatoes so as I was in the mood for a gardening adventure earlier in the spring, I decided to plant some.

Now, if I were a proper gentlewoman farmer, and my living depended on a bumper harvest, I would have sought out disease-free seed potatoes to plant.  Being the practical gal that I am, however, I looked no further than my potato basket buried in my kitchen cupboard.  There I found six little rosy hued potatoes and eight brown ones, all past their prime and already sprouting eyes. Knowing these were organic potatoes, I took my chances and used them for my growing experiment. The first thing I did was to place the potatoes in an old cardboard egg box, atop the kitchen table, where they remained for the next two weeks.  The light and cool temperature of the room allowed the potatoes to develop their green sprouts, a process known as "chitting".

I dug a twenty-eight foot long trench and amended the soil with my secret weapon, chicken manure. It works wonders if one desires vigorous plants.  On May 7, I placed the chitted potatoes two feet apart and covered them with a few inches of the rich loamy soil. Then, I waited.

This brown-skinned (russet?) potato should produce a healthy plant, and future potatoes, fingers crossed!

Photo: Chronica Domus

The little pink potato, now turned purple, is off to a good start with its cluster of sprouts

Photo: Chronica Domus

To my utter astonishment, I soon learned how rapidly these tuberous crops grow. Within a few weeks, the first leaves emerged above ground.  I was more than a little chuffed with the progress and felt rather like an expectant mother does, not knowing exactly when her baby will make an appearance in the world.

Six weeks after planting

Photo: Chronica Domus

Nature is a clever lady because she enjoys color games.  Upon seeing the vegetable patch, my friend Connie asked what color bloom a potato plant bears.  Not having grown them before I was stumped. For those of you who are interested, here is what I found only a week or so after the photograph above was taken.

A white potato bloom resembling Mother Goose

Photo: Chronica Domus

Then, a week later, the following appeared.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Ah, I thought, there lies the answer; white blooms for brown-skinned potatoes and purple for the rosy hued variety.

The potato plants now in full bloom

Photo: Chronica Domus

As the plants grew, I was careful to pile more and more soil around their stalks so that eventually the trench I had dug was filled and hilled.  Then, another surprise. What was this little green tomato-like orb?

Photo: Chronica Domus

It turned out this little fellow actually contains the seeds for next year's potatoes.  I highly recommend you remove these seed pods unless, that is, you wish to have hundreds of little potato plants spring up all over your vegetable garden next season.

On July 27, almost twelve weeks since planting the chitted potatoes, it was time to dig. I could not wait to discover what lay beneath the soil.  The anticipation was almost too much to bear.  Would I find anything at all?  If I did, would the potatoes be diseased or half eaten by earth-bound creatures?

I employed my trusty husband's strength to dig up the almost three foot tall plants, and thank goodness I did.  It takes quite a bit of upper body strength to pry those little devils out of the soil. Obviously, I'm not quite ready to fulfill my gentlewoman farmer fantasy.  Working down the row, my husband started with the brown potatoes, gingerly working the fork into the hilled earth so as to avoid piercing any tubers that may be lurking beneath.

Success! The first potatoes unearthed

Photo: Chronica Domus

I was jumping up and down with glee at the sight of plant after plant, full of spuds! There were large ones and small, both brown and rosy.

One potato, two potatoes, three potatoes, four ...

Photo: Chronica Domus

The mother lode

Photo: Chronica Domus

We managed to fill three bushel baskets with our harvest, an amount beyond my wildest dreams.  All this from fourteen shriveled up potatoes that lay in my kitchen cupboard destined for the compost bin.

Hooray, the harvest is in!

Photo: Chronica Domus

I felt immense satisfaction and gratitude knowing my adventures in potato growing had turned out to be a smash hit. We had dug up so many potatoes that we were able to share our bounty with our friends. Arriving at their house for dinner a few weekends ago, I felt extremely proud to present dear Connie and Steven with a basket of our homegrown spuds.  Oh, and I finally got to answer her question about bloom color.

To date, all of the potatoes we have sampled have been flawless - not a soft spot or diseased area to be found between them.  Their flavor has surpassed all of our expectations, possessing a pronounced earthy goodness. Was it the soil conditions that played a part in our spuds' deliciousness I wonder. Mashed, boiled, or roasted, it has all been very, very good!

Our roasted potatoes formed part of last week's Sunday lunch
Photo: Chronica Domus

If you too are thinking about planting some old potatoes that are laying about in your kitchen, this is an ideal time to do so for those with gardens in the southern hemisphere. Everyone else may want to try popping a few tubers into the soil come spring.

Tell me, do you enjoy eating (or growing) potatoes and if so, what are your favorite ways of preparing them?

Late Summer Shadow Play

Photo: Chronica Domus

Sitting in the drawing room late yesterday afternoon, I could not help but be momentarily distracted from my reading.  I scurried into the kitchen and fetched my camera hoping to capture what was happening before my eyes.  Bathed in the late summer light that danced upon the walls were images of everyday objects that sit atop the furniture.  Glass and brass had magically transformed into shadow play.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Beguiling in its transitory nature, the playful shadows lasted but a few minutes, long enough for me to capture the images I include in this post.

Photo: Chronica Domus

In our hurly-burly world life is full of little moments of wonder if only we might slow our pace to absorb them. There is a quiet value in pausing to observe our surroundings, and at times for just a little longer than may even feel comfortable.

I'm so glad I did for these images will ever remind me of an afternoon spent in observation and contemplation of life's little gifts - a comfortable chair, a good book, and this ephemeral light show which accompanies the passage of time.

Have you noticed the lengthening shadows of summer's finale where you live?

A Dreamy Creamy Find

The hand-painted central decoration on my newly acquired creamware plates

Photo: Chronica Domus

While it may appear that my cupboards are groaning in protestation from all the English and French ceramics I stuff into them, I am supremely conscious of two painful truths.

1. I am a hopeless addict collector. I know the next time a little pretty catches my eye, something I "must have", I will find a way to bring it home, come hell or high water. Yes, I really am that feeble predictable.  
2. I have run out of storage space which makes my addiction obsession collecting habit a bit of a sticky wicket. 

As I reluctantly came to terms with this piteous state of affairs recently, the inevitable came rapping at my door.  Yes, you guessed it, I (once again) found myself answering that all too familiar siren call.  I had succumbed to the delights of a dreamy creamy find; a stack of creamware dinner plates demanding my attention.  What else could I have done?  I did already tell you I am hopeless.

I have long admired early English creamware, those creamy-colored table articles made of earthenware so popular during the mid-eighteenth and early-nineteenth centuries. Many Staffordshire potteries produced creamware but it was the Wedgwood factory that catapulted its success within the higher echelons of society.  Josiah Wedgwood named his creamware "Queen's Ware" after an extensive tea service was commissioned by his royal patroness Queen Charlotte.   I have resisted creamware's temptations, not wanting to "go there" due in large part to a lack of storage space. Besides, the world is not exactly flush with early creamware. Assembling a sufficient number of plates and serving pieces for a small dinner party would take years if one were fortunate enough to encounter such things on one's travels. Needless to say, more than a fist full of dollars is also a requirement.

This covetable Wedgwood creamware part dinner service circa 1790 sold at Christie's in London in 2008 for a staggering $17,719 or  £11,250

Source

Which is why when I happened upon a stack of six filthy newspaper-wrapped late-eighteenth century creamware dinner plates at the Alameda Point Antiques Faire last month, I hesitated for barely a nanosecond before snapping them up. It helped that the seller looked as if she was in the midst of happily unburdening herself with the entire contents of a small antiques shop she had inherited. Many of the people that sell at the monthly fair are not professional dealers, which makes every visit exceedingly interesting.  One never quite knows what one will unearth.  This particular stallholder 

was selling her wares at what I could only describe as ridiculously rock-bottom prices, and cheerfully so.  You see, my purchase of the six plates amounted to an embarrassingly paltry amount; a mere five dollars. Yes, that's right, five dollars!  For those of you blessed with a sharpish mind for arithmetic, you will have already totted up the fact that each plate cost me less than a dollar. I could not believe my good fortune.  At long last the creamware gods had looked favorably upon my addiction collection. Out of pity, no doubt.

I must explain that it was not as though the stallholder was unaware of what she was selling.  Here is what I found on one of the plates.

My creamware plates in their filthy state

Photo: Chronica Domus

Frustratingly, the other label had already been partially torn off, with only the remains of the word "unusual" still visible. What, I wondered, was so "unusual" about these plates?  Was it the finely painted central medallion bearing the monograms of "IL & MGL"?  Who were these people, and why had these plates been commissioned? Was it to mark the occasion of a wedding, perhaps?  I found it rather odd that only four plates were mentioned on the label, yet there were actually six in the pile I purchased.

Washed and clean and ready for the table (notice how shallow the stack is, convenient for those of us that are storage-challenged)

Photo: Chronica Domus

Once clean and dry, I pulled together the three other early pieces of creamware in my collection; two lozenge-shaped Wedgwood serving dishes, and a shell-shaped monogrammed shallow serving bowl. I set the lot on the dining room table.  It pleased me no end to see that they all coordinated rather nicely, unified by their fresh green enamel decoration.

Hooray! The green decoration on my new plates matched that of my existing Wedgwood creamware dishes

Photo: Chronica Domus

The finely painted central motif on this shell-edged creamware dish also possesses bright green (and puce) enamel and a similarly stylized monogram

Photo: Chronica Domus 

I could not wait to set the dining table with my creamware haul.  Of course, the photograph below was taken for the benefit of this blog posting, to illustrate how splendidly the creamware pieces work with the period glassware and silver already in my collection.  I shall set this table again in mid-October for a formal dinner party we are planning on throwing.  Invitations have already been dispatched and with the addition of our dear friends, some good food, the warm glow of candlelight, and our decanters and glasses overflowing, we plan on having a glorious evening, much in the same vein, I imagine, as the plates' original owners might have enjoyed them.

At long last, a tabletop's worth of creamware enough to throw a small dinner party (please excuse the rugless floor - I'm working on it!)

Photo: Chronica Domus

If any of you find yourself in northern California on the first Sunday of each month, come rain or shine, I highly recommend you plan to spend a day trolling the region's largest antiques fair.  Perhaps you too might unearth a treasure for your own collection.

Do you have a tale you wish to share of a long-desired item unearthed for a pittance?