A Sequence in Time

Source: Bon Appetit

Last weekend I took a day-trip to visit the Russian River Brewing Company with two friends. I'm not by any means a craft beer aficionado, but it was fun to explore an area outside San Francisco, and I did get a sip of the holy grail: Pliny the Elder. I typically steer away from hop-laden beers, so this was a walk on the wildside, but I nonetheless had fun.

The best part of the day was going to one of my friend's childhood home in Marin for a 'because it's summer and we can' barbecue and dinner party. His parents' house is a beautiful bungalow with lots of California Mission-style sculpture and icons displayed throughout.

My favorite discovery was a small wrought-iron garden table with a tiled surface. I adore decorative tilework and ceramics like this...I could stare at them all day, sinking into the colors and retracing the lines with my eyes. Some people find such abstract motifs cold and disconnected from reality, but I adore how each tile unites color and movement with a Euclidean sense of order and rationality.

Of the figurative tiles, my favorite was one that showed an archer on horseback (below). Even though the horse is partly missing, the blue frame and upward thrust of figures make the scene feel very immediate. If we had arrived one moment later, would they have moved out of frame?

At dinner I thought more about how perfectly the tile captures a specific sequence in time. You can tell what has just happened and what is about to happen, but it's a short-lived perspective, with the broader plot going untold. Who is the rider and what is he or she charging toward? What do they see that we can't see?

These days, I'm anticipating my departure from California and so am more interested in the future than usual. Astrology aside, however, I can't tell what will come next. I can hope and imagine, but I'm also a little scared. I move through each day as though it has its own blue tile frame...each day is an enclosed experience, unlike the prior and unlike the following. Somehow it makes moving forward seem possible. 

Fancy Rolling Pins

Source: Etsy

Isn't this the most delightful thing you've ever seen?! I normally hate ads on Facebook, but I guess they're on to my neurotic patronage of cutesy home stuff, and so this little number popped up in my feed today.

Source: Valek Rolling Pins

It's such a simple concept, but has limitless possibilities and so much whimsy! The rolling pins brighten up not just cookies, but also fondant and even pasta (though the latter would be a little weird for my taste). Somehow 'cute' goes better with sweet than savory, no?

Whatever your fancy, there are tons of ingenious concepts to choose from. In addition to traditional wooden pins, there are acrylic and plastic options, but the wooden ones are easily the prettiest. The majority retail for around $40. I plan on adding them to my wishlist. :)

Sources: Etsy

David Lebovitz's Paris

"We'll always have Paris."

Who hasn't heard or felt that sentiment at one point? Our family went to Paris when I was 10, where we stayed in a teacup-sized hotel off the Champs Elysees. I knew very little about Paris itself, but I found I was tired...tired of eating french fries in a baguette (vegetarian options being non-existent), tired of 3+ hours in the Louvre, tired of the summer heat. In years to come I did a fully 180 and became a die-hard Francophile, but the first impression was bleak. :)

One realization I've had, by virtue of visiting Paris multiple times and having known both locals and expats is that I don't actually want to live there full-time. Yes, it's truly beautiful and cosmopolitan, and I want to buy everything I see, but it's also incredibly bureaucratic and challenging, notwithstanding infinite patience and connections. This is why you'll find a spate of books that lampoon the traditional "I ♥ Paris" ideology, whilst still attesting to the city's charms. It's similar to New York...people tolerate its shortcomings because they have moments of awe and emotion that are inextricably bound up with the city itself--feelings that couldn't be evoked elsewhere. 

Source: davidlebovitz.com

David Lebovitz, of food-writer fame, is that elusive creature: an American who moved to and actually integrated into Paris. His book, The Sweet Life in Paris, is a mocking but loving tribute to Paris and its quirks. What gives him an edge over the rest of us is that he is by trade a chef and a writer--pursuits that are still valorized by the French (unlike the rest of the Western world, apparently!).

Food is the ultimate language of communication in Lebovitz's Paris, where his appetite for madeleines and Muscadet triumph over his bewilderment at the near-constant strikes, shoving from strangers, and undrinkable coffee. He has a witty, conversational tone that is easy to digest, if a little heavy on the Frenchisms--why "qualité exceptionnelle" can't be written as "exceptional quality" is beyond me. But what I really appreciate is that he details a lot of good Parisian merchants for buying hard-to-find food and kitchen wares. What a resource! This was easily my favorite part of the book, and what I'd really love is to put all of his recommended vendors on my itinerary the next time I go a-visiting... 

To conclude at my end, I've pulled out a few places of particular interest to share with you. Everyone has cafe recommendations, so these are foodie or kitchen goods stores, which are harder to discover. 

Source: proparis.fr

BHV 
Note: this one is a given -- it's the great department store of Paris. Sort of like Bloomingdale's, but it has an amazing hardware section to which I can personally attest. It's also very central. 
www.bhv.fr

Source: Le Petit Paris Tours

E. Dehillerin
Note: specializes in copper cookware. "Hang onto your credit card!"
www.e-dehillerin.fr

Source: Foursquare

G. Detou
Note: "Chocolate, nuts, pearl sugar, and tons of other products for professionals and serious cooks, with a special emphasis on baking ingredients."

Source: Maison Rigau

Huilerie J. Leblanc
Note: Specialist in cooking oils and mustards. "Ask for a sniff of each; the aromas will knock your socks off."
www.huile-leblanc.com

Source: Fleur du Poirier

MORA
Note: All kinds of pastry molds and supplies. 
www.mora.fr

For more recommendations, check out David Lebovitz's site. And in the meantime, let me know when you want to join me in jaunting off to Paris to explore these stores!! 

Summer Reading: You Are What You Eat

My first bread-making attempt

Lately I've been tearing eagerly through a series of food-writer memoirs. I think it's because I spent most of June having a love affair with my kitchen, and learning how to do a lot of new things: pickling, making jam, and baking bread. My mother is an amazing cook, and I can't hold a candle to her repertoire of Indian food, so I love taking pioneer steps (as far as my experience goes) into different cuisines and techniques.

As an extension of the my physical efforts in the kitchen, I've also taken to reading a lot of food memoirs and autobiographies. I have to credit my close friend, Katy, who has been building her place in the foodie world for several years now. I have spent many happy afternoons in her Berkeley apartment, flicking through her library of 80+ cookbooks (all of which she cooks from), and plying her with questions about spices and equipment. You can follow her personal cooking exploits at Dining With Dostoevsky, as well as her blog dedicated to Jam: Jam Experiments.

As to the foodie memoirs, they have been an utter delight. My family loves to tease me about my "relationship with food," which means to say that I am *not* a functional eater. I have plenty of friends who have a similar appreciation for cooking and dining, but we don't discuss them. It seems too intimate and even embarrassing to rhapsodize about things like grocery shopping or cast-iron skillets. Yet these are everyday delights in my life....which is why reading these books has been so wonderful.

Source: Time Magazine

Ruth Reichl's Garlic and Sapphires is a memoir of her time as the chief food critic at the New York Times. Even before she started the job, Reichl discovered that every restaurant in the city had a pinup and bio of her. To maintain the necessary anonymity of a critic, she cultivated a series of amazing disguises, each of which was really an incarnation of herself. Reichl uses this undercover strategy to experience New York fine dining from the every(wo)man perspective, thereby making the unhappy discovery that status and power dictate one's restaurant experience, from seating to the number of raspberries on a dessert dish. The writing is candid and smart, and even while Reichl struggles with her newfound celebrity, she remains sympathetic, warm, and utterly human.

Source: Elle Magazine

Molly Wizenberg, author of the popular food blog Orangette, strikes a similar note in Delancey, the memoir of her experience opening and running a restaurant with her husband. To be fair, it's really the story of how she came to terms with her husband getting into the restaurant business, and the effect it wrought on both her marriage and relationship with cooking. As with Garlic and Sapphires, the book has a clear narrative arc focused on a specific period in the writer's life. I also love that Wizenberg's relationship with food and cooking inflects her marriage and her livelihood -- it shows that our feelings about food go a long way beyond sustenance, into the realm of emotion and psyche.

Both books have a smattering of recipes, but neither claims to be a cookbook, and the recipes aren't always connected to the narrative. Reichl's has a little more depth and heart to it, but if you've ever considered opening a restaurant, Delancey may be the sanity-check you need. 

The Perils of Perfection (warning: soul-searching ahead)

I am terribly behind on updating Green and Glass, and to be honest, even had thoughts of abandoning it over the past few weeks. This is not a new theme in my life. Lodged in my parents' basement are dozens of journals and diaries, most of which peter out after a few lengthy, largely mournful, entries. Even as a penpal I was always the first to break off communication, and most of my hobbies have been short-lived affairs.

The common theme across these failed voyages is that burning interest whacks up against inevitably amateur results. I embarked on journals with the desire not just to put my thoughts into words, but to create a work of art. Each entry was, in my mind, a Faberge egg, which would continue to mesmerize future readers (of course I anticipated publication!) with its intricacy and charm.

There was also the six-month love affair with knitting, which yielded three extraordinarily mediocre scarves, two of which I foolishly gifted to others. In fact, I was so mortified by one of these gifts that I replaced it within a week with a professional scarf, and advised my friend to use mine as a dog blanket. I still stand by this advice.

The challenge for me is that I hate practice. I want, and expect to achieve, immediate, impeccable results. This would be fine if I were actually a wunderkind, but like most of us, I'm only OK when I start out. Sometimes I'm even terrible. Where some people seek to learn, I seek to master...on the first try. And so they go, my hobbies and interests, collecting in cupboards and boxes in my parents' home.

My blogging efforts have often gone this way...I am slow to create new posts, for fear that achieving a perfect result will take hours that I don't have or want to invest. I collect ideas, but day after day fail to execute on them. It's a big weakness.

Anyway, this soul-searching exercise aside, I recently realized that if I'm going to do anything new or scary in my life, I will have to reconcile myself with imperfect results. This is not to say that in other areas I've achieved perfection; rather, I've achieved comfort and acceptance of where I am. Wouldn't it be lovely to take that approach--acceptance of the process--to everything in our lives?

All this to say that I've decided not to abandon the blog. I do really love design and lifestyle ideas, and hey, this is my space to experiment and share. Hopefully you haven't given up on me and will stick around. :)

Thrifting in a Goldmine

In case you missed it, in my profile I describe myself as a "consummate magpie." This is not a joke or euphemism. I am a collector of things--especially shiny, pretty things. My perfect day would include scouring and triumphantly snatching up some vintage gem at a flea market. Sometimes the sheer gluttony I feel on entering such markets reminds me of that dragon in The Hobbit films--you know, the one voiced by Brit hottie Benedict Cumberbatch (whom I've gratuitously featured below). The dragon's idea of a good time is squatting on a pile of treasures and shiny, pretty things. There's a definite likeness.

Source: National Geographic

As a result of this gluttony, I have been to my fair share of flea markets and thrift stores, both in the U.S. and abroad. Based on this research and extensive reflection (not really), I can unequivocally say that the Alameda Point Antiques Fair is hands down the best U.S. flea market I've been to. It's *huge* (800+ vendors) but easy to navigate, the sellers are friendly, and there are tons of food trucks to give you that second wind after you've hauled your first load to booty back to the car.

What You Need to Know

• The Fair takes place on the first Sunday of each month, so get it in your calendar! Rain updates are posted to the site. 
• It starts EARLY! Hours are 6am - 3pm. Pricing is tiered by arrival time, anywhere from $15 for early birds to $5 for arrivals after 9am. What this means for you: there is tons of stuff to browse all day, but some vendors start closing as early as 12pm. The pros go early, and there are limited discounts thrown in at the end. Around 1-2pm, I saw a few stalls doing a further 50% cut, but these were in the vast minority. 
• There is unfortunately no particular structure to the layout. The area (a former aircraft landing strip) is divided into rows from A-Z, but vendors are not bundled into categories. You have to pound the pavement if your goal is to see the bulk. Wear good shoes! 
• I was informed that most vendors come back every month, and most one-timers are located in the last rows. Since they're not returning, you could potentially negotiate better deals on their merchandise. 
• A few vendors had credit card machines, but the vast majority of transactions were in cash -- be prepared! There were ATMs at the entrance, but also long waiting lines. 
• You must have a car to get to the fair, and parking (free) moves further afield as the day goes on. My friends and I arrived around 10am and walked ~15 minutes to get to the entrance. A small section of parking right by the entrance is reserved for short-term loading, so don't stress about hauling furniture. 
• Shopping carts and flat carts are available (free) for large furniture transport. 
• Unless they have signage explicitly saying "Final price," it's totally OK to negotiate a little. Even if you're not comfortable haggling, it's good to at least ask. The $2 you save will make you feel like a champ!
• What to take: a backpack and extra totes, water, and a hat if it's sunny. Hand sanitizer if you're anxious, like me. 

Enough guidelines; let's get to the pretty stuff! :o)

Painted Dressers!

Quirky Objets!

Mid-Century Dazzle!

Demure Decor!

Color Pop!

June 1st is the next fair, friends! Hope you are heading that-a-way.

History Lesson

Recognize this great classic of American design? You should! 

Source: blog.wanken.com

So maybe not all of you are design junkies, but you may be surprised to find how much you recognize when you take this quiz on the great American designers at Apartment Therapy! I had a lot of fun matching up the designer and product, and it was good to see some women on the list. Go play. :)

PS: they also have one on European design if you're feeling knowledgeable. 

My Favorite Things: Bridesmaid Kimonos

Source: Sunset to Sunrise

OK, if you're like me, you've lately noticed that in literally ALL the wedding albums in your Facebook feed, there are hordes of bridesmaids wearing kimono robes. Where is this coming from?! I had never before seen these robes, and all of a sudden they appear to be part of a global trend. Is there one wedding planning company shilling kimonos to all our Facebook pals?

Source: Sunset to Sunrise

In any case, these are quite pretty, and I like the idea of having something girly to give to your bridesmaids. I just hope we don't have to wait long for the groomsman's equivalent. ;)

Here are some of the popular online retail options I found (bulk are on Etsy):

Sunset to Sunrise
Modern Kimono Robes
Silk and More
Pretty Plum Sugar

My Favorite Things: Cork Planters

Source: The Lovely Succubent ($10.50 for set of 5)

I occasionally spot items that send me head over heels, and have decided that I'm going to spotlight them here, even if I don't have anything substantive to add about them. These cork planters, for instance, just fill me with joy - so twee! so clever! so unexpected! - but that's really all I have to say about them. Other than that you should be rushing to The Lovely Succubent's Etsy store, asap, to snag these for your fridge. I can't think of anything that would make someone smile more. :) 

The Shining

A few years ago, I went to a friend's home and was taken aback when, following dinner, she put out a beautiful old set of antique silver dessert forks. It was probably the first time I had ever used real silver, and it made an apple crumble seem somehow elegant and old-worldly. Since then, I began acquiring odd pieces of silverware, and trotting them out for special occasions.

Real silver is quite beautiful, once you shine it up. Compared to my basic stainless steel set (see above for side-by-side), real silver shows its age but also its character. Sure, we can buy highly decorated cutlery from high end stores, but the real deal, with all its age and tarnishing, still takes the prize for most charming

Source: venturegalleries.com

That said, if you don't regularly use and polish your silver, it will start to show its age, both dulling over time and getting a weird, oily gold sheen across its surface (above). Recently, I found that this was the state of my small silver collection, and decided it was time for a good shining. It's incredibly easy to do at home, and you probably already have all the items you need:

• Shallow dish
• Aluminum foil
• Baking Soda
• Something to heat up water - kettle, pan, etc. 
• Tongs

The process itself is equally short and sweet. Here are the key steps:

1. Heat a full kettle of water
2. Line your dish with the foil, making sure that the shiny side is facing up
3. Scatter about 1 tablespoon of baking soda across the foil
4. When the water is boiling, pour it all over the foil
5. Drop each piece of silver into the dish, and let sit for 10-20 seconds. You'll see the tarnish fade almost instantly
6. Use the tongs to flip each piece to make sure each side gets coverage
7. Remove the pieces with tongs and wash with mild soap and water. Then dry

Here's a shot of steps 5 and 6

And here's one of the just-cleaned silver, getting ready to be washed.

It's pretty neat to see the before (left) and after (right):

Some people detract this process because they feel that it overdoes the 're-silvering' and sort of white-washes the silver so that you can't notice any fine detailing. But I've found that, in fact, that doesn't necessarily happen. Below is the "after" shot of a fork, and as you can see, the sweet flower pattern is still highly discernible and has a nice contrast of polish and age.

Et voila! All shined up and ready to grace the table.

Flower Express

Source: Danisa Flowers

I love fresh flowers. LOVE. They make me incredibly happy, and they also make spaces incredibly happy, because like plants they bring energy into every room. The downside is that fresh flowers are expensive, but I'm totally in favor of getting a $7 bouquet from Trader Joe's and divvying up the flowers into smaller jars to dot around the apartment.

One of the joys of flowers is also the processing of giving and receiving them. I know they're not gifts that last, but maybe precisely because of that fact, they seem more precious and sentimental. Yeah, it would be great to gift everyone iPads or vintage china, but unless your pockets are deep, flowers are a fantastic alternative.

Source: Gardenista

Which brings me to a cool startup in San Francisco called Bloom That. The basic premise is that you can have handcrafted bouquets of locally-grown flowers delivered within the same day (within 90 minutes of ordering!). The flower selection is based on what's in season, and they typically only have ~7 options, but the prices are pretty great for what you get:

 Source: Bloom That

Plus! Delivery is built into that cost! So it's just the price + tax, versus that typical $15 delivery charge that most services pack onto your order. And in typical SF style, they have an app for mobile ordering; use bike messengers vs. vans; and wrap the bouquets in fair trade-produced coffee sack burlap. So you know your bouquet was made with a conscience. :)

Finally, one of my favorite things is that they also have a plant option--typically a set of succulents in a small rock garden. Plants are as good company at a dinner party as flowers.

Source: Bloom That

My only nitpick is that their product names are suuuuuuper yuppie: (The) Clarence, Beaumont, Finley, Corwin. People, these are the names of bespoke clothing lines and/or my high school classmates from Greenwich, CT. :) Happily, I've gotten over that hiccup and plan to start sending myself surprise bouquets more often. 

Rifle Paper Co.

Source: Rifle Paper Co.

I recently had lunch with a friend in Hayes Valley, and took the opportunity to revisit all the terrific little design boutiques along Hayes Street. There are a few neighborhoods in San Francisco that have clusters of design stores, but this is easily the most visually charming. Tree-lined streets, bakeries at every corner, and innumerable design stores? Bliss!

As I was browsing each store's selection, I noticed a recurring theme: a rack of stationary, cards, and small decorative objects by Rifle Paper Co. You've probably seen their beautiful work sold in bookstores, home design stores, or even on Etsy. Even though each piece is unique, there is a real consistency to the 'feeling' behind them. They are all full of whimsy and delight, and for me at least, emanate joie de vivre. 

Source: Rifle Paper Co.

What I love is that there's artistry behind these, such that you're not only committing words to paper but also sending a miniature work of art to someone else. I can't imagine receiving one of their cards and not feeling a surge of pleasure. 

Some of the floral patterns really reminded me of William Morris' illustrations. Morris' images are certainly much more densely populated by flora, and have that medieval tapestry look to them, whereas the Rifle Paper Co.'s are have a lighthearted, modern flair. 

Sources (clockwise from top left): Paper Source, Apparel Textiles, selvageblog, Telegram

Happily, Rifle have expanded their offerings beyond paper into kitchen coasters, phone cases, and more. I'm totally enamored of their iPhone cases! Any of these would make the most delightful hostess and/or friend gifts, no?

Source: Rifle Paper Co.

Source: Rifle Paper Co.

Hacienda Lost in Time

Source: lovelypackage.com

A few weeks ago, when Jon was visiting from the East Coast, we drove up to Sonoma for the weekend and visited one of my favorite wineries: Scribe. This is a really small (~6500 cases/year) wine-maker, that has quite a fun history. In the mid-19th century, some German brothers came over to California, smuggling vine cuttings with them. They started a winery on what is now Scribe, and enjoyed success until the Prohibition law of 1920 came into effect and wiped out their business. In the succeeding years, the land was used as a turkey farm until the 2000s, when another set of brothers (Americans, this time) decided to buy the land and found an artisanal winery.

Source: Green and Glass

On this visit, however, I was less focused on the vineyard than another building on the property--one that has always held an air of enchantment around it: the Hacienda. According to the historical records found by Scribe, this Mission Revival-style edifice was built in 1915, after the German brothers' home burned down in a fire. There is a marvelous Grand Passage entry road, lined with palm trees, that takes you up to a beautiful wraparound porch, also flanked by palms.

With the permission of the staff, Jon and I left the tasting area and prowled around the Hacienda before lunch. It's still vacant and some could say decrepit, but we were enchanted by the labyrinth-like layout of rooms, and the way that the light, color, and space made everything beautiful and inviting. Sunlight bathes this house, flooding through openings, doorjambs, and window panes.  Instead of feeling ghostly, though, the atmosphere was soft and mysterious.

Below are some of my glimpses into this lovely building.

Source: Green and Glass

Source: Green and Glass

Source: Green and Glass

Source: Green and Glass

Source: Green and Glass

Source: Green and Glass

Source: Green and Glass

Source: Green and Glass