From the Urban Stems website, Triple the Unicorn, once $165 is now on sale for $140. On the front: Juliet, $68.

By Stephanie Cavanaugh

A FEW WEEKS ago I wrote a column about buying flowers online and gave a particular mention to Urban Stems, which a friend used to send me a bouquet, a sympathy gift when my sister passed away. The flowers came without a container, packed in a jolly box. I have plenty of vases, so no problem. The flowers were joyful, a fantasy of color and composition. I loved them. 

The next week I received another incredible arrangement from friends, also from Urban Stems. This one came in a simple white ceramic vase. And again, it was a pleasure. Actually, too great a pleasure: The arrangement was so enormous it overwhelmed my tabletops—all of them, except the kitchen counter. Much as I liked seeing them as I chopped liver and flipped crepes (not the same meal), it was a bit crowded. So.

I gave half the flowers and the vase to Baby, who is heavily and imminently expecting Baby Boy Dos, and could use a lift. She set the vase on the oak dining table in her kitchen (oh, the envy—a kitchen table. Sigh). 

Then! The following week—where are we now, ummm, about 10 days ago—another arrangement arrived, a big beautiful bunch of lilies in tight bud. No vase, but again, no problem. (Have I mentioned how much I hate the phrase “no problem”? But in this case, no problem is what it was). 

I clipped the bottoms of the lilies’s stems (you need to do this to restore the stems to their function as drinking straws), put them in water, and waited and waited. Still waiting. And waited. And the buds never opened, instead browning at the tips and beginning to shrivel.

This was disappointing.

The Urban Stems website has a customer-service email address, which I figured might or might not respond, as these things go. They requested a photo of the problem, which I sent along with a note about how delighted I was with the two other bunches I’d received previously. 

The Portia from Urban Stems, $85.

And lo! Within minutes, there was an email from a “Smile Server” with the unlikely but divine name Czarina, offering me either an immediate replacement or a credit that I could use whenever I felt the need for flowers. I took the credit, with thanks. 

Then! Baby told me the vase they sent with the flowers I had shared leaked, which she hadn’t immediately noticed. The table, which My Prince made many years ago, and so is a treasure,  had a thick protective coating—thankfully—so there was no damage. But if it hadn’t been coated, oy.

Expecting nothing, simply wanting to alert the company about the issue, she emailed Urban Stems, told them exactly what had happened, including that the vase and flowers had been regifted by me.

And lo! Within minutes she too received a credit. This left me feeling guilty for five minutes or so. It didn’t sit right . . . but then, if I had kept the arrangement and the vase and had set it on a wood table and it leaked . . . oy.

SO! Despite two out of three orders having issues, Urban Stems made good. These folks really know how to handle customer service. Swiftly, graciously, one might even say beyond the call. 

Standing ovation, please.

By the way, checking their email address just now, I notice they have a 15%-off spring special. 

iStock photo.

By Nancy Pollard

After owning one of the best cooking stores in the US for 47 years—La Cuisine in Alexandria, Virginia—Nancy Pollard writes Kitchen Detail, a blog about food in all its aspects—recipes, film, books, travel, superior sources, and food-related issues.

A ‘Forlorn Hope’ Menu

The Forlorn Hope is a long-used military term from the Dutch “verloren hoop” or “lost troop,” for the bands of soldiers who were willing (or were volunteered) to be sacrificed in knocking down the weakened barriers of the enemy’s fortifications. I often feel that March represents the season of the Forlorn Hope. It is spring battling against the weakened fortifications of winter. It is the first little shoots of early bulbs that get wiped out in a sudden freeze. It’s the sudden warmth of a day or two (when you don’t wear undershirts under your sweater and hats covering your ears) followed by a week of sub-freezing weather. It’s the surprise sleet storm when you have run out of de-icer for your walk and doorway. We have forgotten the heat and humidity of August,  so we buy tomatoes four months too early.We just long for spring and it seems just that much farther away. So I dedicate this menu to our Forlorn Hope of Spring With the Realities of Winter.

Foraging Forlornly

One of the first things you can get in early spring is radishes; French Breakfast, Cherry Belle, Sparkler, and White Beauty are a few that I have found. You can split them crosswise almost to the base, then soak them in ice water to get a nice little flower look.  Serve them with fleur de sel or Maldon salt, and optionally with sliced baguette and butter.

In our first Gift Guide, we featured a fundraising cookbook from the survivors of the Grenfell Tower fire in London. It’s a gem. These are all foods that you would cook at home, but as many of the survivors are from the Middle East and North Africa, there is lots that will be new to you. One of my favorites is this dip from Munira Mahmud, whose dream is to run a food truck. I would stand in line for her food truck any time. Serve this with either crackers or raw vegetables. I have used it as sauce on grilled vegetables, and lamb too.

Still Life With Trophies of the Hunt, 17th century, Pierre Dupuis (painter) French, 1610 – 1682 / National Gallery of Art.

By Nancy Pollard

Nancy found this hare terrine from Pillivuyt awhile back on 1st Dibs. Don’t use it on Easter, for goodness’ sake.

After owning one of the best cooking stores in the US for 47 years—La Cuisine in Alexandria, Virginia—Nancy Pollard writes Kitchen Detail, a blog about food in all its aspects—recipes, film, books, travel, superior sources, and food-related issues.

THE INTRODUCTION of a rabbit meal to my family (our daughters were the impressionable ages of 4 and 9) was less than felicitous. I served it for Easter Lunch (which has become my favorite holiday meal to plan and cook) and humorously announced as I brought the platter to the table that we were serving Peter. It was not well received. But good recipes remain even if I botched their introduction, and we have had rabbit (like many families across the pond) as a delicious and economical meal for years. As it is lean meat, rabbit makes lovely stews, meaty sauces and fricassees. You can expand your culinary horizons and make rabbit sausages and  pâtés as has been done in France for years.

Some Wabbit Facts

Rabbit cut up into serving pieces, applicable to most recipes.

A pound of rabbit meat has only about 800 calories, less than chicken. But consider that beef weighs in just under 1,200 calories. Rabbit contains less fat and about half the cholesterol of chicken or pork. “Breeding like rabbits” as a catchphrase has its upside too.  Not only do rabbits reproduce quickly, but given the same amount of feed and water, a rabbit can produce roughly six pounds of meat whereas a cow will produce only one pound.

Rabbit meat is well known for its high protein content. A 3-ounce serving of rabbit meat contains 28 g of protein, more than beef or chicken. Rabbit is also a concentrated source of iron. A serving contains more than 4 mg. Additionally, the meat provides a wide range of minerals. The highest levels include 204 mg of phosphorous and 292 mg of potassium. The calories in rabbit meat are low. A serving contains only 147 calories.

Today the awareness that environmental resources are valuable is spreading. The process for raising beef places a burden on grain and water supplies. An environmentally friendly solution to losing resources to larger animal production is producing rabbit meat. The environmental impact from raising rabbits is low. The period from conception to harvesting maturity is only three months, and the amount of food they eat is minimal when compared with other animals. The USDA regulates the meat. Some antibiotics are used, but the animals are tested for residues. No hormones are administered.

Where Is That  Wascally Wabbit

While rabbit has not caught on in major grocery store chains (all the more pity), D’Artagnan is an excellent online source. Once you try and love this underutilized source of protein, see if you can persuade your supermarket to bring them in. And if the crew behind the meat counter shrug their shoulders at you when you ask them to split a rabbit, here is the handy-dandy video from Eric Ripert and Ariane Daguin that shows you how.

Wabbit Wecipes: Two  Easy, One More Advanced

The first recipe (and the one I served for that memorable Easter lunch) is from one of my “desert island” cookbooks. We briefly had it in the shop when we first opened in the 1970s  and then the publisher ceased printing it. I think people probably are searching for my obituary so that they can get their hands on my precious copy of Narcisse and Narcissa Chamberlain’s Flavor of France. If you don’t want to wait for my demise, contact Bonnie Slotnick Books. Occasionally I have seen it on Amazon portals and other dealers in out-of-print books. And if you look at our inaugural post, we got mail from readers who tried and loved their leg of lamb with flageolets.

Rabbit Stew With White Wine

Serves 6

Often called “lapin en gibelotte” in France, this is a my go-to meal during the week for cold weather.

Recipe by Narcissa and Narcisse Chamberlain.

Adapted from The Flavor of France.

Ingredients

1. 3 tablespoons bacon fat
2. 4-to-5-pound rabbit, cut into serving pieces
3. 2 tablespoons flour
4. 2 cups chicken stock
5. 2 cups white wine
6. 1 clove garlic, chopped
7. 2 rounded tablespoons tomato paste
8. Bouquet garni (1 celery rib cut in half, bay leaf, several parsley stems, a few peppercorns, sandwiched in between celery ribs, then tied with string)
9. Fine sea salt
10. Freshly ground pepper
11. 2 tablespoons crème fraîche or sour cream

Instructions

1. In a sauté pan or casserole large enough to fit the rabbit pieces, heat the bacon fat.
2. When the fat is hot enough to brown the meat, lay in the rabbit pieces and brown on all sides.
3. When all sides are nicely browned, sprinkle over the flour and blend well, turning the pieces over.
4. Add the stock and the wine and stir gently to blend before adding the minced garlic.
5. Add the tomato paste and blend,
6. Nestle in the bouquet garni in the middle of the pan and add salt and pepper to taste.
7. Simmer the stew, covered, over low heat for about 45 minutes to an hour. The rabbit should be tender but not falling off the bone.
8. Remove the rabbit pieces and reduce the sauce if necessary
9. Stir in the crème fraîche or sour cream, then strain the sauce over the rabbit pieces on a warm serving platter.

Linda Dannenberg is probably better known for her French lifestyle books, but she wrote eight cookbooks, two of which we sold consistently in the shop, Parisian Bistro Cooking
and Paris Boulangerie-Patisserie.  Although I use the second one occasionally, the one with the bistro recipes remains one of my  favorites since it was first printed in 1991. It may be headed for my “desert island” collection. This has a half cup of Dijon mustard for the sauce, and it needs this amount to make the sauce sing. Other recipes don’t put enough mustard in the deglazed pan. Add the mustard first into the sauce and then add back the pieces of sautéed rabbit. And please use a classic Dijon-style and not ballpark mustard. My favorite mustard for this is the classic one from Fallot in France. I have tried the Maille mustard that we can get here, but it doesn’t have the same rich flavor as the same brand I  purchased in France.

 

Braised Rabbit With Mustard Sauce

Serves 4

There are lots of recipes for Lapin à la Moutarde, and this is my favorite. Again it is great midweek meal.

Recipe by Linda Dannenberg.

Adapted from Paris Bistro Cooking.

Ingredients

1. 2 tablespoons lard
2. 3-to-4-pound rabbit, cut into serving pieces (10 pieces in all)
3. Sea salt
4. Freshly ground pepper
5. 4 tablespoons unsalted butter
6. 1 cup dry white wine
7. 1 bay leaf
8. 1 5-inch sprig of thyme
9. ½ cup Dijon-style mustard
10. 5 tablespoons crème fraîche

Instructions

1. Melt the lard in a skillet large enough to hold all the rabbit pieces.
2. Over medium-high heat, brown the rabbit pieces on all sides and season with salt and pepper.
3. Remove the rabbit and discard excess fat.
4. Melt the butter in the same skillet.
5. Stir in the wine, herbs, and mustard before you add the browned rabbit pieces back to the pan..
6. Cover pan and simmer for 20 minutes.
7. At this point, you can remove the loin pieces and keep them on a warm serving platter while you finish off the remaining pieces for another 10 minutes.
8. Remove these pieces to the same platter and reduce your sauce by one-third over medium-high heat.
9. Remove the bay leaf. The thyme leaves should have fallen off the stem and they stay in the sauce.
10. Stir in the crème fraîche, correct the seasoning.
11. Serve the rabbit on the warmed platter with the sauce over it.

Notes

1. This is traditionally served with buttered pasta, and that is still my favorite choice. Rice or potatoes are okay, but not like old-fashioned noodles!
2. Finely chopped fresh parsley or dill makes a lovely garnish.

Epicurious is not the only online source for good recipes. I use Marmiton from France and Giallo Zafferano in Italy. After the Resident Wine Maniac kept ordering the tagliatelle with rabbit ragu at San Lorenzo in DC, I found this neat version in GZ. You cook the meat on the bone (in pieces, after it has marinated) and then remove the meat, which is a lot easier than removing it before it has cooked. It is more work than the two French recipes, but it freezes well and is even more delicious the next day. In Italy, there are also rabbit-filled ravioli and Cacciatoria style, which our Italy Insider says is so good that she will include it in a future post.   Do some exploring on these sites and use your Google Translate as I did for this recipe.

Rabbit Ragu

Serves 6

Once you make this, you can add mushrooms or other diced vegetables. It is such a delicious base. Use it to make a lasagna, or a topping for rice or mashed potatoes.

Adapted from Giallo Zafferano.

Ingredients

1. 2½-to-3½ pounds (1.25kg-to-2.25kg) rabbit, cut into several pieces
2. 3 juniper berries
3. 6 peppercorns
4. 3 cloves garlic, peeled (dice one finely)
5. 1 large red onion, cut into dice (half will be used for marinade)
6. 3 bay leaves
7. 5 sage leaves
8. 1 5-inch branch of rosemary
9. 2 cups (473ml) red wine, plus more to macerate the rabbit
10. 1 peeled carrot, cut into dice
11. 1 celery rib, cut into dice (I peel celery, but that is optional!)
12. 5 tablespoons (74ml) Extra Virgin Olive Oil
13. 2 cups (473ml) or more of vegetable broth
14. Fine sea salt
15. 14 ounces (400gr) tomato purée or chopped tomatoes

Instructions

1. In a glass, ceramic or stainless-steel bowl, add the rabbit pieces, juniper berries, peppercorns, two of the garlic cloves, half of the red onion, the bay leaves and sage leaves and the rosemary.
2. Pour enough red wine to cover.
3. Allow the rabbit to macerate, covered at room temperature for two hours, or overnight in the refrigerator.
4. Drain the rabbit from the marinade.
5. Mix the finely diced carrot, celery and remaining half onion, with the remaining garlic clove, finely diced.
6. Gently heat the olive oil and cook this mixture until it is just soft and pale gold.
7. Then add the rabbit pieces so that they sauté to a light golden color at a medium heat. You may have to sauté the rabbit in stages if your pan is not large enough to hold all pieces so that they are not touching each other (and therefore steaming rather than sautéing).
8. Add about a cup of red wine and allow it to boil down, then add some salt to taste.
9. Add the second cup of red wine, and cover your pan.
10. Allow this to simmer on a low flame, and add the broth as needed until the rabbit is tender.
11. When it is tender, you can easily pull the meat away from the bone.
12. Finely chop the deboned rabbit meat with a large chef’s knife and add it back to the sauce in the pan.
13. Add the tomato purée or sauce and cook for another 10 minutes,
14. Adjust your seasoning with salt and pepper.
15. You are now ready to add it to the pasta of your choice.

Adapted from Giallo Zafferano

Ooh, let’s hope not! / iStock photo.

By Stephanie Cavanaugh

THERE HAVE been some strange weather years, but this one is unsurpassed.

The absurdly mild winter continues, with the temperature set to hit 80 degrees in Washington DC today, and in the hothouse that is DC’s Capitol Hill, where I live, that probably means it will be even hotter.

It’s February 23 and it feels like June.

In the days before I had a garden, and plants were confined to windowsills and a fire escape, I would have found this burst of warmth in midwinter delightful. A day to don flip-flops and get my toenails done. A day to read in the park. A day to sit in an outdoor café and turn my pasty face to the sun. 

A tan hides a multitude of sins, even as it encourages more. 

Instead, I fear and fret. The daffodils are beginning to bloom, the tulips have pushed their heads above the mulch, the red leaf maple is sprouting, and the forsythia is about to bloom. Worst of all, the hydrangeas, of which I have many, sport tender buds, susceptible to freezing. Once frozen it’s pfft! for the season. A disaster in the making. 

We are, the weatherpersons say, two weeks ahead of schedule, danger time. Frosts are not just possible, they’re probable. A blizzard could heap a mountain of misery on those tender shoots and buds. An ice storm could freeze the cherry blossoms, cracking new branches. 

So, I’m planning ahead.

If it freezes, I shall pile blankets and sheets into the arms of My Prince and send him forth into the cold to wrap the nascent garden, my tender budlings, in warmth.

Don’t crush them, I’ll yell.

I WON’T, he’ll yell back.

Then I’ll welcome him home with a roaring blaze in the fireplace, a jug of wine, and a hearty, garlicky stew, tiny potatoes, a crusty loaf, and peas. 

He likes peas.  

Maybe there’ll be pie. 

But, maybe it won’t freeze. We’ll have one of those rare springs when everything is in bloom all at once, like a flower show where blossoms are coddled and forced in spectacularly unnatural fashion. Where tulips and roses, peonies and allium, all pop at once. Where all you can do is goggle at the sight. 

Maybe we’ll be lucky.

iStock

This essay first appeared in Prime Women.

By Nancy McKeon

WHAT DID YOU Google most recently? A different chicken recipe? A list of nearby veterinarians? Okay.

Was it to find out whether you were “in your prime”? I didn’t think so.

In case you missed it, here’s what happened on Thursday that raises this question. On “CNN This Morning,” the three hosts were discussing the suggestion made by Republican presidential hopeful Nikki Haley that politicians over age 75 undergo a mandatory mental competency test to make sure they were up to the job of president. 

A screen grab of “CNN This Morning” co-host Don Lemon asking his co-hosts (and the audience) not to shoot the messenger. It was Google that told him that women were past their prime by age 50. He later apologized. / CNN image.

Co-host Don Lemon then said the 51-year-old Haley should be careful when talking about politicians not in their prime. “Nikki Haley is not in her prime. Sorry.” A Google search had told him that a woman’s prime was in her 20s, 30s and 40s.

As his female co-hosts, Poppy Harlow and Kaitlan Collins, sputtered and reacted, Lemon doubled down: “Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just saying what the facts are.” 

Lemon sent out a major mea culpa later that day on social media and to CNN staff and didn’t appear on the show on Friday, possibly taking the morning off to remove the large foot he had inserted in his mouth.

Aside from the fact that there are different answers that pop up on that Google search, not just the one cherry-picked by Lemon, the question immediately raised by Lemon’s co-hosts remains: Prime for what exactly? Childbearing? Sure, makes sense. Gymnastic competitions? No quarrel. Sexual attractiveness? Them’s fightin’ words.

What about corporate competence? Not even close. Climbing that ladder takes years of experience–years and experience that we as a society generally value in men. Aside from some tech Wunderkinder, there aren’t many 20-, 30- and 40-year-old CEOs out there.

In fact, I would argue that a woman doesn’t hit her stride until her 50s, when those childbearing 20s, 30s and 40s are in the rear-view mirror, when relationships have, with luck, stabilized, and when a woman can take a moment to measure the path she has been on professionally and weigh the possibilities ahead.

I’m not suggesting that women one day just poke their heads out of a gopher hole at age 52 and decide to become a Supreme Court justice (Ketanji Brown Jackson) or prime minister of the UK (Margaret Thatcher at age 54) or a US senator (Elizabeth Warren at age 64) or a presidential candidate (Nikki Haley at age 51, Hillary Clinton at ages 61 and 69). They’ve been laying the groundwork for years, layering job upon job, credential upon credential. By around age 50 the ambitious ones are champing at the bit.

You see it these days in the business world. Mary Barra became CEO of GM at age 53, Ursula Burns CEO of Xerox at 51. More recently, Karen S. Lynch, 58, and Rosalind Brewer, 59, became CEO of CVS and the Walgreens Boots Alliance, respectively. Slightly younger was Thasunda Brown Duckett, who took the helm of the TIAA retirement-investment powerhouse at 48; going back a few years, also at 48, Sherry Lansing at Paramount.

It’s an odd fact that little girls in general mature earlier than little boys, and then do better in school until . . . until the urge to mate slows them down, then even ties them down with the bulk of childrearing. But then, fast-forward, women’s opportunities do a quick fade, disappearing entirely by the end of their forties? It doesn’t sound right, but women’s “sell-by” date has always been notoriously earlier than their male counterparts’.

So, if you thought that “prime” was an arithmetical construct you forgot about from high school, last week may have been a wakeup call. Ditto if the word just triggered memories of your last great strip steak.

Bottom line: As far as having wisdom and verve and the experience to use both wisely, most women are in their prime after the age of 50. And whether it’s political or corporate leadership or just living lives in the public sphere, it’s best for all when everyone recognizes that.

Wakey, wakey! Sephira proposes Fake Awake, a universal nude gel eyeliner, on the lower lash line (look hard). It can make your eyes look shiny and bright even after a sleepless night.

By Valerie Monroe

Can’t get enough Valerie Monroe? There’s more at https://valeriemonroe.substack.com.

A-Side

At this moment—as war still rages in Ukraine and we warily (and eagerly) emerge from extended isolation, blinking our way, soon, into the dawn of another spring—there seems to be a plethora of observations about the juxtaposition of grief and joy.

From my friend Margaret Renkl in the New York Times (if you’re looking for some psychic relief from the dark, read Margaret’s two dazzling essay collections):

. . . It’s entirely possible to understand what human beings are doing to the woods—and to one another in this moment of dread and grief and terrible struggle—and still exult in birdsong and tiny blooming flowers peeking out from the dead leaves of autumn. In this troubled world, it would be a crime to snuff out any flicker of happiness that somehow leaps into life.

It would be a crime—but isn’t it also a responsibility to recognize, honor, and celebrate beauty in the midst of tragedy? To bear witness to the pain while also being present for the rebirth that blooms with every spring? Buddhist teacher Jack Kornfield suggests we think of remembering joy as a moral obligation. Because why fight a war at all if there’s nothing beautiful to return to?

B-Side

I know many (if not all) of you read HNTFUYF for practical beauty advice and I hate to disappoint. In a post last year, I focused on sleeplessness; so here I’m offering five very simple ways to look and feel more awake if you haven’t had your fair quota of Zzzz’s.

Ease into a deep or vibrant lip color with a sheer formula or jump right into a more pigmented shade, such as the ones from Dior Addict, above.

Trace a nude eyeliner along the inner rim of your lower lash line; it can create the illusion of having bigger, wider eyes. My old pal (creative director @oprahdaily) Adam Glassman swears by these Lumify eyedrops for a super-white sclera (though he would never say it that way).

A wash of rosy color with a sheer cream blush emphasizes cheekbones and gives the skin a healthier look, as if it’s actually benefiting from a blood supply.

When even your hair looks tired, falling flat along your natural part line, flip your part to the other side to add instant fullness.

A favorite scent can boost your spirits, as the sense of smell links directly to the mood-ruling limbic system. Two of my favorites: This one and this one.

And finally, a coda to both sides: Treat yourself or someone you love to this cute beanie. A portion of proceeds will be donated to @unicef_ukraine.

Glorious clivia, in several shades of orange or yellow, thrives in dry shade and is evergreen. This Belgian Hybrid Orange Clivia miniata is from Monrovia growers, where a 1.6-gallon size is $75.

By Stephanie Cavanaugh

Q. I’VE BEEN contemplating some kind of small-bushy plant for my balcony, which is enclosed. I made the mistake my first year here in my city apartment by putting out my fave, a lantana (I have direct east light, lots of heat and sun). But back when I had a lantana outdoors I never noticed how dirty they were, how those little florets just kept dropping everywhere. I’m too lazy to keep sweeping them up. 

So what I want is a clean plant, the kind that will keep its own counsel. Now, your readers don’t necessarily live in city apartments with enclosed terraces. So I don’t know how helpful my quest might be for them. 

A. I see many condos with enclosed terraces that probably share your woes. Yes, you can have flowers, but plants that bloom profusely are going to shed all over the place, demand water, and be a pain in the tuchus. 

An areca palm. / Home Depot photo.

If I were you, I’d think about creating a background screen of palms. While many palms prefer shade, the areca palm thrives on direct sun and, depending on the variety, can grow to great heights (and widths). They need fertilizing in the summer but are pretty carefree in winter. Place them where they can cast a little shade on the interior, and you’ve created an exotic background for some easy-care flowering plants. The areca palm at left comes in a 10-inch grower pot and stands 24 to 34 inches tall; it’s from United Nursery and is $45.52 at Home Depot.

Here’s a short list of brilliant blooms that last and last and require only slightly more care than fakes (which need to be dusted).

Bromeliads have some of the wildest shapes and colors, borderline tacky (particularly the pink ones, which are nearly fluorescent), but nevertheless fabulous. Enjoy the flower for a few months, which is as long as one might last, and give the plant to someone who enjoys tinkering. I’ve never found trying for repeat blooms worth it. Maybe you have a sister with a house in New Jersey?  The bromeliad shown below, in a 4-inch pot, is $29.98 at Home Depot. 

Bromeliads come in assorted colors. / Home Depot photo.

This is how I feel about orchids too.

Did you know that bananas grow on banana trees? I learned this a few years ago. One would think that I . . . but no! What I don’t know continually amazes me. Bananas appreciate bright but indirect sunlight, so can go in front of the palms. While it’s rare for them to fruit indoors (which is probably why it never occurred to me) it’s possible!

Clivia is a beauty you might want to move about the house. The Prince bought one for me about 10 years ago, an apology plant for some misdeed (of his) or other, and it’s still growing strong with absolutely no care whatsoever, besides haphazard watering. It can be kept in indirect light much of the year, moved into a sunny spot sometime around now, and it will toss off a beautiful bunch of sherbet-hued flowers that stay for weeks and can simply be clipped when they fade. The Belgian Hybrid Clivia miniata shown at the top of the story is $75 for a 1.6 gallon plant at Monrovia.com.

Even fake geraniums can enliven a patio or terrace. / Photo from One Allium Way.

You might also consider filling gaps with geraniums, which thrive on four to six hours of sun each day and are about as cheery a flower as one can imagine. Think Capri! Or something. You still have to pick off the spent blooms, but that’s not much of a nuisance: The flowers last a long time and can be pinched off when they wither, and the colors and variety are splendid. Many even carry a faint but lovely scent. [Editor’s note: The geraniums shown at left are faux—no scent but pinching off spent blooms either. The “plant” as shown is a cluster of three “bushes” from One Allium Way, $33.99 at Wayfair.com, pot not included.]

Enjoy your little greenhouse!

By Tatiana Pollard

Christmas dinner Italian-style.

THE WORLD CUP of winter eating is held in Europe every year, where it involves Christmas Eve, Christmas, Saint Stephen’s or Boxing Day, New Year’s Eve, New Year’s Day, and, aptly, Epiphany. Games start on December 24 and end on January 6. Let the best appetite win: lasagna or quiche?

Dinner of Champions: Lasagna or Quiche

After a holiday season of entertaining between eight and 12 people on a daily basis for two weeks, I have two well-tested cold-weather-dish formulas that have the additional benefit of warming up your house with a hot oven. These reliable not-really-recipes leave you enough room for creativity but also offer a no-fail zone of certainty. You can opt for whatever level of difficulty. One is French and one is Italian, and you wouldn’t likely think of them together—although Quiches and Lasagnas could easily be a cookbook title.  Once prepped, each needs only about 45 minutes in a 360 F oven.

Lasagna: A Middle-Ages Affair

First, some history, so you have something to talk about when you serve up your own version of this storied plate. Most people think of Bologna when it comes to lasagna, but the word has been traced back to a Latin term lasănum, meaning a type of cooking vessel, supposedly a tripod holding a pot, originally from the Greek word λάσανον. Written record of the L word can be found in two mediaeval cookbooks, both from the Neapolitan Anjou Court. Anonimo Meridionale, possibly drafted as early as the 1230s, includes a recipe titled “Affare lesagne.” One century later, a certain “De lasanis” is also mentioned in Liber de Coquina (of which two early 14th-century codices survive at the Bibliothèque Française in Paris). The most interesting research on the pasta shape and regional forms of lasagna can be found in Oretta Zanini De Vita’s Encyclopedia of Pasta.

Although Zanini De Vita might not agree with using store-bought lasagna sheets, you can find some fresh ones that have the paper-thin quality she claims the real dish must have. Or make your own; it keeps pretty well. If using fresh pasta, I generally don’t pre-cook it in boiling water, but rather prepare the dish with a more liquidy Béchamel sauce. These quantities were developed for a roasting pan that is about 24 x 34cm (9½ x 13 inches), but adapt as needed to whatever ceramic, metal or Pyrex casseroles you have.

Lasagna Procedure

Prepping the lasagna.

For 250g (roughly half a pound, or 9 ounces) of lasagna sheets, make a Béchamel sauce by melting 100 grams of butter (7 tablespoons, or just under a stick) in a saucepan over a low flame and adding 80 grams of flour (a little less than 2/3 cup) and stirring it into a light-colored paste, then slowly adding a liter of milk (4¼ cups or 34 ounces), whisking continuously until a thick, spreadable sauce is formed. Here’s the creativity part: Open the refrigerator and see what must be used immediately. You need about 500 grams (18 ounces) of a main ingredient, such as a cooked vegetable or cured meat, and 600 grams (21 ounces) of cheese, plus Parmesan. Sautéed zucchini or artichoke hearts, boiled spinach and cooked peas are all great victims for your killer dish.

Tatiana Pollard’s lasagna, the finished product.

Spread Béchamel at the bottom of the pan, place a layer of pasta sheets on it, and sprinkle with meat or vegetable, pieces of the cheese, some more Béchamel and grated Parmesan. Repeat. The last layer is finished normally just with Béchamel, cheese, and perhaps a little of the leftover vegetable in decorative form. Don’t overload it. It’s all about finding balance between the quantity of pasta and the quantity of filling. Bake in a 360 F oven for about 45 minutes.

The most successful creations have been artichoke and asparagus lasagna with Taleggio and provolone; prosciutto cotto with Parmesan, mozzarella, and smoked scamorza; and spinach with ricotta and Parmesan. It’s a smart party dish that will feed between six and 10 people. You can make two smaller portions and then freeze after cooking if you wish to stock up for those evenings you don’t have time to cut, chop and cook.

Real Men Don’t Eat Quiche

https://amzn.to/3wyD0On

For the conversation: Historical testimony of quiche does not reach as far back as the evolutionary origins of lasagna, but the word has been shaped across languages, too. It first appeared in the Lorraine dialect in the 1600s, in French in the early 1800s, and it hit English vocabularies in the 20th century. It is considered a relation of the German word Kuchen, or cake, which makes sense considering that Quiche Lorraine comes from an area that has seen both German and French rule. In its earliest forms the crust may have been leftover bread dough wrapped around a filling and baked off in the communal oven in times when personal ovens were not permitted under law in France. Your dinner guests might argue that savory pies with an egg cream can be found in Mediaeval Italian and English cookbooks, to which you might add that, yes, that’s true, but the term quiche is vastly better known – just consider this 1980s satirical book.

As for lasagna, you can up the ante by making your own pie crust, or ease the process with a pre-made one. Camille Glenn’s Flaky Butter Pastry from The Heritage of Southern Cooking is my go-to recipe, but if using a prepared crust I make sure it’s made from butter for better flavor. If making the dough myself, I usually bake it “blind” (with no filling) first. With store-bought, I don’t. See what works for you.

Quiche Procedure

Quiche by Anastasia Pollard.

Here’s what you’ll need in order to throw together a quiche. One pie crust or about 230 grams (8 ounces) of pastry. For the custard, three eggs and one cup milk (or even better, one cup cream). One to two cups of cooked vegetables and about the same amount of cheese. Whisk together eggs and cream with salt and pepper. Tuck the pastry into a 24 cm (9½-inch) round ceramic dish, or copper gratin or tart pan, and prick with a fork to avoid air bubbles. Spread a layer of vegetables and a layer of cheese (if a hard variety, grate it for easier melting) and pour the custard over it. The same leftovers you used above for your lasagna translate beautifully into a quiche. Bake in the oven for 45 minutes at 360 F.

Some hits have been sautéed fennel with Gruyère and black olives; braised onion or leek with a blue cheese like Gorgonzola or Stilton; spinach and smoked scamorza; or ricotta, cherry tomatoes, and basil. This quiche can serve about four people but can be easily doubled for a bigger crowd. Quiches don’t seem nearly as festive as lasagne, so pair it with a colorful salad.

Tatiana Pollard is daughter of Kitchen Detail’s Nancy Pollard, based in Bologna, the capital of Italy’s Emilia-Romagna region.

LittleBird Stephanie’s sister Jeanie circa 1947 hard at work at her summer job. / Family photo.

By Stephanie Cavanaugh

MY SISTER JEANIE once had a summer job, sleeping on a sofa bed in the window of a New York City department store. Talk about exhausting work.

This was in the late 1940s, before I was born. While many of our family stories extend the truth with, shall we say, a few alternative facts, this one is real. 

The Prince and I have always visited her a few times a year, and always on her birthday, in early September. We were there, along with Baby, her personal Prince Pete, and their baby, Wes, for the last birthday, Jeanie’s 90th. A big bash was held in her condo pool house, ocean in the background doing its thing as Sinatra sang in what we hoped would be a year of revival—she was dancing, for goodness’ sake.

Jeanie passed away last week, which was both expected and a shock. She’d been in and out of hospitals and nursing homes for the last few years with a variety of non-Covid-related, yet dramatic, ailments. Our family is also big on drama. 

She was home from her most recent trauma, with sister Bonnie alternating care with Donna, Jeanie’s fiery Irish-Puerto Rican aide, when her heart simply stopped. Bonnie found her quickly, revived her with help from 911, and the EMTs raced her to the hospital. 

She lasted long enough for the Prince and me to arrive, then was gone.  

When I was a kid, Jeanie reminded me of glamorous comic-strip reporter Brenda Starr, though with light brown hair, not red. She wore high-heeled backless sandals called Spring-O-Lators (I won’t say what they’re more crudely called) with a magical strip of elastic at the arch that prevented them from falling off, even with the slipperiness of sheer stockings. These she had in every candy color, including licorice, in row upon row on her closet floor. They also gave her terrible corns, but what price beauty?

Every night she’d set her hair in a hundred pin curls, brushing it out each morning in Lauren Bacall waves. She wore mink stoles, turquoise eyeshadow, bold lipstick and drifts of Arpège. There were hat boxes and a flashy convertible.

Dad was a furniture designer and manufacturer of sofa beds, with a showroom in New York. Jeanie’s first job was no doubt his doing; she was a home-furnishings nepo-baby. For many years she worked with him, picking fabrics, designing vignettes, flirting with department-store buyers as she sold them the moon.

When her husband, Lou, retired, they moved to Florida, to an oceanfront condo with terraces north and east, high enough up that when sitting down you feel as if you’re on a cruise ship. When Lou passed away, she took up with Jack, a handsome widower who lived across the hall in an apartment the mirror image of hers. They were together 12 years but kept both places—one for living, the other for entertaining. An admirable setup, I think.

When Jack passed away, she decided she was done with men. The only ones left, she said, are looking for a nurse. She played mah-jongg, learned calligraphy, and served on the condo board as president and chief designer. She turned into a reader, loved movies, meals out with friends, and happy hour (note: since the Boomers hit 65, the term “early bird special” has been retired). And she watched the endlessly changing ocean, visible from every room. That, and a bourbon old-fashioned, was enough.

We held a celebration of her life on January 22nd, in the pool house.  

Here’s LittleBird Stephanie’s late sister Jeanie, who obviously knows how to celebrate a birthday. This picture is from a pre-Covid celebration. / Photo by Stephanie Cavanaugh.

There were plump, bejeweled matrons, helmet hair thick with spray, with a remaining few of their spouses—what happens to men in South Florida?—desiccated and bent, crumbled at tables while their wives jingle-jangled over with pastrami sandwiches. 

They’re so old, said My Prince, who’s no spring chicken—though he sure looked like one that night.

Alexandra, Bonnie’s daughter, came from a couple of miles away, and Jeremy, her son, flew in from LA. Lou’s son Jay came from San Francisco, Jack’s son John from Syracuse; Damon, her health insurance adviser, came with a huge orchid; Donna, the aide, blew out her black mane and put in her teeth. Angel, her fix-it man, came late.

We spoke, we toasted, we danced. The stars glittered, palm trees swayed. Gosha, her Polish cleaning woman, brought white balloons and, after a largely incomprehensible but moving speech, released them to float out over the ocean. Not the best idea when Jeanie’s charity of choice was the Loggerhead Marinelife Center, which protects turtles from death by balloon, among other things. But it’s the thought. 

Baby had the last words. As Jeanie said when her husband passed away, “Lou’s in heaven and I’m in paradise.”

We’re not sure whether heaven was a promotion or a demotion, but it’s the thought . . . 

Note: Much of this is modified from a piece I wrote for Jeanie’s 88th birthday. She called it her obituary. And, sadly, so it is. 

The view of Juno Beach from sister Jeanie’s terrace. / Photo by Stephanie Cavanaugh.

iStock

By Nancy McKeon

MONEY’S ON MY MIND again. Mostly it’s because I’m on the prowl for a new tax preparer, my last two having decided there were other things they’d rather do with their lives (imagine!). But the unhappy financial markets are spreading their gloom around. And that reminded me of a piece I posted half a dozen years ago. The advice I got was good then and remains good now. Being older and less patient now, I’ve trimmed it back a bit:

WHEN YOU GET to a stage in life where you’ve managed to amass a bit of money—and it doesn’t have to be all that much—you suddenly find that all sorts of people and companies are eager to help you with all that cash.

They call it “wealth management,” a term that flatters more than describes (Wow, me wealthy!?). What these people and these companies basically want, of course, is to get their hands on your money. They want to arrange and rearrange it for you, allocate and reallocate it; they want to play with it, their version of Play-Doh (get it?).

Even mutual-fund companies that come through with really low expenses get a little grabby when you start asking questions. Every question seems to turn into an offer to manage your money for you. That could mean as low as .3% of your assets by a rock-bottom outfit like Vanguard or TIAA-CREF*. But many financial advisers/managers charge 1.5% of your total portfolio amount.

Tack 1.5% on to  the rate of inflation and all of a sudden you’ve built a little hurdle that your portfolio has to jump over before you’re actually ahead. And so I stick to no-load mutual funds.

But there’s always that little doubt in the back of my mind: What if I’m missing out on something that these smart financial folks know about. Finally, a conversation with my TIAA adviser was quick to allay those fears. He said his job was to educate participants, not to sell them services. And educate me he did.

If you’re fearful of “missing out” on some stock that’s going to skyrocket, having a financial manager guide your portfolio is not going to ensure that you catch that puppy. Portfolio management, in TIAA’s view, is about management, period:

managing for risk,

managing for income, and

managing for incapacity.

Let me take that last goal first. Managing for incapacity means that when I drop into a final coma at age 137, my younger sister and brother won’t have to worry about my various financial bits and pieces while they’re still trying to figure out where to toss my ashes. TIAA, or your portfolio manager of choice, would keep on keeping on until given official word to stop.

Managing for income seems pretty straightforward, but maybe not so simple in execution. It basically means that my  manager will arrange and rearrange my assets to make sure that income from them is enough to pay for my needs and maybe even some of my wants.

Managing for risk means that someone who knows how to read a balance sheet will figure out how to keep my various investments on the safe side of risky.

I’m grateful to TIAA for this perspective. I’m also grateful to John Bogle for starting The Vanguard Group and pioneering those low-expense index funds. And I’m even more grateful to billionaire investor Warren Buffett (the “Oracle of Omaha”—he’s fun to read about!) for investing in The Washington Post and guiding my erstwhile employers, the Graham family, to set up the journalists’ 401(k) plan at Vanguard.

All in all, I remain undecided about professional portfolio management, but if I do take the plunge it will be with realistic expectations. And if you’re drawn to such management, be aware of the new fiduciary rules and be sure that your potential manager says they are indeed a fiduciary. (What, you didn’t know your adviser was supposed to have your best interests at heart?? Pay attention! And perhaps read this piece in Investopedia.)

* It’s a mouthful and stands for Teachers Investment Annuity Association and College Equity Retirement Fund. TIAA is the “leading provider of financial services in the academic, research, medical, cultural and government fields,” according to its self-description.

Nancy’s favorite bench knife, all stainless steel, from Matfer Bourgeat.

By Nancy Pollard

After owning one of the best cooking stores in the US for 47 years—La Cuisine in Alexandria, Virginia—Nancy Pollard writes Kitchen Detail, a blog about food in all its aspects—recipes, film, books, travel, superior sources, and food-related issues.

SOMETIMES IT’S the simplest things that make all sorts of tasks easier in your kitchen, and this is one of them. Of all the little tools that I have played with, this one surprises me the most by its absence in many home kitchens. There are dozens of models to choose from, and they come under a bewildering assortment of names: bench knife, dough scraper, dough cutter, dough slicer. Originally used in bakeries, their purpose was to scrape recalcitrant dough on the wood counter or “bench,” and also to cut through the dough before weighing out portions.

My all-time favorite (and I have had this model for over 30 years) is the one from Matfer Bourgeat of France. Matfer has now merged with Bourgeat, Flo, and In Situ—all professional equipment producers—but has always been a major supplier and manufacturer of bread and pastry equipment in France. We used to import directly many of their products for La Cuisine, including this bench scraper. Their collection of dies for pâté, chocolate, and ice cream molds, which resides in a cage at their manufacturing facilities in France, is a wonder to behold. And you’ll find their catalogues an education in professlional culinary tools, so enjoy perusing them (as I have for many years) on their site.

Not Just for Bakers

But back to this marvelous baker’s tool. It is made from 18/10 stainless steel, which is what I look for in a tool destined to become beloved. To paraphrase a much longer description about stainless-steel components, 18/10 stainless steel, as well as 18/8 and 18/0, are fractions explaining the percentages of chromium and nickel alloys, respectively, added to stainless steel to reduce rust and enhance shine and durability. 18/0 contains limited nickel and is, therefore, slightly less resistant to oxidation, while 18/10 provides the highest amount of nickel, thus the greatest resistance to rust and longest-lasting polish. Tools without the 18/10 classification will oxidize and stain over time. Matfer’s version of this baker’s tool is single-piece construction, so there are no separate wood or plastic handles to get burned, melted, or cracked. The curved handle is really comfortable to hold if you have to exert pressure, and the cutting edge is beveled, which makes it much more effective at scraping and slicing.

When chopping parsley or cilantro, use it as an effective scoop to pick up all those pesky green pieces sticking to the counter. Making a fruit salad? Use this to add the ingredients to your bowl as you cut them into dice. For the leftover peels, cores, and trimmings on the counter hopefully headed to your compost bucket, this guy is your buddy. Using this tool to help knead doughs that need to remain loose and sticky will keep you from adding too much additional flour. If you make chocolate-chip cookies and use good-quality bar chocolate, this design is a godsend for transferring them to your batter. If you chop meat, poultry, or fish for a recipe, this scraper just makes the journey to sauté pan more efficient. You’ll be grateful for it when you dice onions too.

I use it to make chocolate shavings and curls. Melt tempered chocolate by sliding it on a hot sheet pan and then use the scraper to create cigarette like shards. You”ll find it helpful in scraping up dried caramel, pasta dough, and chocolate from any pastry project you have embarked on.

Racle Who?

Here’s Matfer’s Racle Tout (means “scrape everything”).

The Matfer dough scraper has a nylon cousin called a Racle Tout, which is nice to have on hand as well. It is thin but stiff enough to provide you with a serious scraping edge, and it has the advantage of having a curved side for bowls. This design is the darling of many pasta, pastry, and chocolate professionals who use it to shape and portion and then clean the bench.

“It is the perfect combination of flexibility and firmness,” says Sarah Rich of Rich’s Table in San Francisco. “Some of the ones you get have no give at all, and some of them are really flexible to the point that they are useless.” The Matfer Bourgeat has a slight bend to it, so “when you are scraping things off your counter and you want to be able to curve it a little to dig in there,” you can, without fear of the tool breaking or flopping over. The thickness, too, makes for a perfect grip, she says, and its compact size means you can fit it in your back pocket for easy access while you cook.

Both of these are more expensive then the myriad look-alikes, but believe me the investment is worthwhile. They can be bought at certain cookware stores (make sure you specify the manufacturer) and on a variety of online professional kitchen-supply outlets, including Amazon.

By Nancy McKeon

MENTION CHINA and these days we think Covid-19, or factory to the world, or, most recently, declining population. But in the festive spirit of the Lunar New Year (on Sunday, January 22), let’s remember some of the other things that China and Chinese civilization have meant.

Chippendale style. I think of Chinese Chippendale as a streamlined version of the traditional, sometimes ornate Chippendale style, often rendered in rattan, or made to look like rattan, often a chair or mirror that can read modern or traditional. Well, it turns out I’m wrong (again). Eighteenth-century English chairs had heavy, solid backs, so the airy, sometimes carved splats of Chinese chairs had a lighter look (and no doubt feel). English cabinetmaker Thomas Chippendale was, it seems, channeling the lighter-feeling Chinese style in chairs when he fashioned his designs. So, to overstate a bit, all of Chippendale’s styles were Chinese Chippendale.

What most of us currently refer to as Chinese Chippendale is the further streamlined style we see in casual chairs, even outdoor styles. And they remain graceful solutions in both modern and traditional settings.

On the left, a modern hand-carved Chippendale-style side chair by Design Toscano is, unlike Thomas Chippendale’s, made of pine. It’s on sale for $666.90 at Overstock.com. And guess what? It was made in China. On the right is what is often called the Chinese Chippendale style. The Kara chair is made of rattan in Indonesia. A pair of them in pale gray is $426.59 at Overstock.

A vintage mirror, dating from the 1970s, in the Chinese Chippendale style, complete with pagoda top, is $2,500 from Chairish.com. It’s 30 inches wide and almost five feet tall.

Folding screens. They can read blowsy as well as stately. Think of a 1940s film noir where the temptress slings her silk hose over the folding screen in her bed-sitter while the flummoxed hero tries not to look. Then imagine a grande dame’s Fifth Avenue drawing room with its Coromandel screen arrayed behind the sofa.

Writer Michael Diaz-Griffith called folding screens “mobile architecture” in a Veranda magazine story. (He also called them “the Band-Aid of the decorative arts,” but that seems a bit mean, if true). They can define a room (and, yes, hide an unfortunate corner pipe or two), and then redefine it with not too much effort.

Had the innovators of the Han Dynasty, 2,000 years ago, had only concealment or protection from drafts in mind, they could have settled on simpler stuff. But artisans fashioned the screens out of wood panels that were then lacquered and embellished (think mother-of-pearl and ivory) to a fare-thee-well. The idea of the screen took off across Asia and eventually Europe. Since then screens have been copied, simplified, amplified, modernized. They can be as light in color and weight as a Japanese shoji screen, as fanciful as a Fornasetti trompe-l’oeil confection; they can be slapped up flat against a wall, or accordioned across it, adding movement to a flat surface.

Made in China, the mid-20th-century double-sided Coromandel screen above is almost 98 inches wide and seven feet tall. The feet stand on copper caps. The screen is on sale for $1,495 from Bryer House Antiques & Interiors of Jacksonville, Florida, through Chairish.com.

The Rahem Folding Room Divider from Latitude Run adds two clever shelves that can run through the 106-inch-wide bamboo-and-rattan screen to turn it into a display area as well as divider. It’s $156.99 at Wayfair.com.

Rare indeed is this trompe-l’oeil double-sided screen by the late Piero Fornasetti. Made in the 1950s, the screen features Fornasetti’s whimsical Città di Carte, the typical “house of cards” turned into a whole hillside village, a theme Fornasetti played with many times. The rear of the screen is decorated with Fornasetti’s Farfalle (butterflies) design. The seller, on 1st Dibs, is asking $34,500, but you can make an offer.

The Rudd three-panel room divider from East Urban Home is made of a wood frame covered on both sides with canvas, one side showing old-world doorways, the other side mimicking one large mediaeval wood door with a heavy lock. Four feet wide and six feet tall, it’s $246.69 at Wayfair.com.

Chinoiserie. The fanciful gardens with birds and butterflies flitting about started out on Chinese screens and wall hangings, but the motifs migrated over the years to modern wallpaper and such everyday items as bedsheets and storage totes.

Chinoiserie has been creating fanciful interiors for hundreds of years. Specializing in hand-painted panels and murals, Gracie Studio in New York offers dozens of patterns as well as custom work. Framed panels of certain styles about 3 feet by 5 feet range in price from about $1,304 to $2,014. Entire rooms depend on pattern and dimensions. Photographer James Merrill shot this dining room for Toni Gallagher Interiors, as shown on the Gracie site. The wall is covered in Silver Peony paper. Technology has enable companies such as Tempaper to offer similar styles in peel-and-stick wallpaper, installed by the company’s technicians.

Almond blossoms on your duvet cover? Why not. The three-piece Eikei bedding set, shown in mustard, also comes in plum and Prussian blue. The set, duvet cover and two shams, is $64.80, $108.80 or $118.80, depending on bed size.

Chinoiserie fabric covers these Susiyo folding storage bins, 11 by 15 inches by 9½ inches tall. The two-pack is $32.99.

Pasta. Italy has no problem acknowledging China as the inventor of paper. At the Museum of Paper and Watermarks in Fabriano in central Italy, the guides make it quite clear that Italian handmade paper took its cue from the Chinese techniques.

Pasta is a different story. It’s clear from his diaries that Marco Polo encountered Asian noodle dishes during his 17-year-long sojourn in China. It used to be argued that he in fact introduced pasta to Italy because of his travels. Those who dispute this theory point to Polo’s mentions of the dishes he eats there; he seems to be saying that he recognizes them as being similar to flat, lasagne-like noodles from home.

It’s also true that Arab travelers were instrumental in taking their pasta-like noodles into areas as far west as Sicily, even bringing their techniques for drying.

Just as flatbreads (pizza? pita?) seem universal and spring from similar needs and similar ingredients, it’s probably the case that Italy’s noodles developed independent of  China’s. I bow to scholars who have dived deep into this area. It remains incontrovertible that Italian durum wheat is the harder stuff and allows for all 350 (or more) pasta shapes that have sprung from the Italian imagination. Whereas Chinese noodles are, for the most part, noodles.

Two basic noodle dishes, Italian on the left, Chinese on the right. A coincidence? Well, probably.

Porcelain. It took European potters a long, long time to figure out how the Chinese were able to produce clean, almost translucent “china,” a medium that was strong and with a sparkle that welcomed color and intricate designs. Into the 18th century, English, French, and German potters could pick up on the festive look of the Chinese exports, but the brilliance and rafinesse of the body eluded them.

The secret was the kaolin in the ground, and when the correct mixture was cobbled together in Meissen in Germany, Continental potteries had begun to crack the code. In France, discovery of an ample seam of kaolin led the town of Limoges to begin its now-legendary production of hard-paste porcelain; indeed, to many the word “Limoges” denotes not the place but the porcelain itself. Not correct, but understandable.

Chinese porcelain production continues, and so does the manufacture of low-grade pottery found in kitchen and gift shops. China gave us real porcelain, but it also gave us the decorative look of porcelain, to be had at many levels of quality and many price points.

In the hands of Royal Copenhagen, porcelain manages to look traditional and contemporary at the same time. This 2-quart Blue Fluted Plain tureen is $1,205, to order at Mode Operandi.

From Germany’s Furstenberg Porcelain comes “Fluen,” painted to give the illusion of shifting colors. The gold trim is 24-karat. The bowl above, for cereal or side dishes, is about 6 inches across and $110 at Moda Operandi.

Classic: This 9-inch-tall 19th-century Chinese blue-and-white porcelain Double Happiness jar with original lid is $650 at Chairish.

Yes, yes, leaving a whole lot out: gunpowder, fireworks, the compass, beheading (oh well). But it would be unfair to our fellow travelers on this planet if we didn’t extend a hearty thank-you, once again, for porcelain. Even now, almost all toilets are made from porcelain. That contribution alone keeps most of us from having to greet each morning atop a galvanized tin bucket. Certainly, the ancient Romans civilized human elimination by engineering it indoors. But the antibacterial properties of porcelain make the substance into the embodiment of the word sanitaryware. And here we sit.

This elongated toilet from American Standard is chair-height, has a “robust flushing system,” and is made of . . . porcelain! It and similar models range from $199 to about $295 at HomeDepot.com.

The 1987 recipe collection of the late, lamented Gourmet magazine included these Smoked Salmon Christmas Trees. / Photo above from Gourmet, by the late Romulo Yanes, Gourmet magazine’s photographer for almost 40 years.

By Nancy Pollard

THE GOLDEN years of Gourmet magazine for me (and apparently several others, who have the Gourmet Collection cookbooks) were clearly the mid-1980s through the early 1990s. This Christmas hors d’oeuvre is from the 1987 cookbook, which reflects the previous year’s seductive photos and recipes. Jane Montant was the editor, and I think her sense of style and selection of recipes are peerless, as is the photography of Romulo Yanes.

When I first made the two Christmas Dinner horses doovers (as we call hors d’oeuvre around here), the Radish and Parsley Butter Wreaths were not a crowd favorite, even though they looked pretty. But the Smoked Salmon Christmas Trees have remained a family favorite and guest-pleaser for over 20 years. The smoked salmon Christmas appetizers are a bit fiddly to make, but they can be done in the morning, then covered with cling wrap and kept in the fridge. The night before is okay too, but make sure you wrap them doubly tight so there is no drying out.

To make the bread base for the “tree,” I use a large sandwich loaf of light whole wheat bread and usually get two trees out of each slice. Hand-slicing the loaf actually works better than having it sliced by the bakery: That way you get thinner slices. Stick with the unsalted butter; it actually tastes better than cream cheese in this instance. If your cutter is really sharp, you can spread the slice with a thin layer of butter, a layer of the smoked salmon, and then cut out the whole tree, but if your cutter is not sharp, best to follow the original instructions. Tweezers are helpful with the onion or scallion.

Smoked Salmon Christmas Trees

Don’t make this your only Christmas wreath: It’s bound to disappear fast. / Photo by Nancy Pollard.

By Stephanie Cavanaugh

WITH TWO DAYS left before Christmas—and a sprint to Hanukkah’s end—the traditional mad dash for last-minute gifts is on. Lucky you to have a gardener in your life: There’s plenty to be scooped up at the local big-box or hardware store. Let your fingers do some Internet walking before you head out, to make sure what you want is still available.

Step up the pruning with Gonicc 8″ Professional Ratchet Anvil Pruning Shears, which one reviewer called “the Rolls Royce of pruning shears.” Certainly, the words “ratchet” and “anvil” set side by side sound serious. With 15,699 reviewers handing out 4½ stars on Amazon, they seem like a good bet. Maybe Amazon can get you a pair overnight. 

Or, just head to a hardware or big-box store for anything from Fiskars.  Known for its wide range of excellent tools, they now offer a cool “designer stainless steel pruner and snip set,” in several snazzy, easier-to-find-in-the-shrubbish colors and patterns. Available at Walmart for $17.

Fiskars tools are widely available, a good thing at the last minute. Walmart has this cool-looking stainless-steel pruner and snip set for about $17.

The fancy-pants gardener would appreciate the silvery cultivator and soil scoop set at Pottery Barn, for $49.50. You might toss in white  goatskin gauntlets, which will look gorgeous on your hands, so Martha Stewart, until you use them in the garden. $69.   

Pottery Barn is always a good bet for last-minute inspiration. This year they have gardeners covered with a silvery cultivator and soil scoop set ($49.50), above, and goatskin gardening gauntlets ($69), below.

Hearing one too many groans from the pea patch? A stool helps when the joints creak. This one, at Ace Hardware, for $23, includes an attached bin for tools, gloves, mosquito repellent, and Band-Aids.  

Even better—but arriving post-Christmas—is one from Uncommon Goods. This clever fold-up gardening stool has divided pockets for stashing tools: In theory, you use the tool and put it right in the pouch, never losing a secateur again. This depends on putting the tool back, which I would personally do at least twice before dropping it . . . somewhere. It also has a cool military vibe in olive-green canvas with black piping. $46. The thought of accessorizing with a pith helmet crosses my mind. 

At once serious and jaunty-looking, this garden seat can be found at Uncommon Goods if you have time. If not, a slightly more modest version is as far away as your nearby Ace Hardware store.

When was the last time you saw more than, say, five stars in the night sky? For city folk, as a rule, that requires a schlep to the country. Aha! The solution from Bliss Lights, which makes an array of excellent laser lights, is the blue Starport USB Laser Projector, which will sprinkle a galaxy over a 50-by-50-foot area—garden or terrace, even the living room ceiling. Now, we all know that light travels fast, but not fast enough for Christmas delivery: The projector is $15 at Target, but online only.  

When an ordinary desk light won’t do. Okay, kidding, but the Starport USB Laser Projector from BlissLights will certainly enhance your interior. Available (though online only) at Target.

Speaking of lights. I love my grow light. With my big bird of paradise and hibiscus filling a dark corner of the dining room, they need a serious boost of faux sunshine to survive the winter. I have no idea what brand my grow light is—it was a gift received years ago—but Sansi makes a similar model, but with two heads for $22, and available at Lowe’s stores. The full-spectrum light has a flexible stem with a clip so it can be attached and angled any which way. Plus! It illuminates the corner like a night in Miami. 

I miss my herbs and stepping onto the back porch of an evening, clipping a little basil or thyme. If you spend a bundle on fresh herbs between December and April, an AeroGarden will scratch that itch. The sleek planter, with herb seeds included and an attached grow light, is a nifty little item for the kitchen countertop. $119 at Walmart, with similar models available at Kohls, Macy’s and various hardware stores. 

Does your gardener miss his garden herbs? Are you tired of shelling out for those $5 plastic packs from the supermarket? The countertop AeroGarden could be the answer.

Memberships or admission tickets to public gardens, arboreta and gardening events make excellent holiday gifts for gardeners. How about the Pittsburgh Botanic Garden Light Show, which runs through January 1? The 452-acre park, a wonderland of lights, is $25 per adult, with advance reservations a must. An annual pass to DC’s Dumbarton Oaks would be a kvelling experience for any plant lover. An individual season pass is $75, or take the family for $110. Also in DC, a family pass for Hillwood, the estate and gardens of Marjorie Merriweather Post, is just $85, and you can take your pup for a Sunday stroll. The Philadelphia Flower Show, anyone? The Grandmother of All Flower Shows isn’t until March—but you can get tickets in advance, starting at $38.50 for adults.

And that’s a wrap! See you next year. 

You can never have too many. From left to right, retro wool scarf from Frances Valentine, Kate Spade polka dot oblong neck wrap and J. McLaughlin’s pull-through faux fur collar.

By Ann Geracimos

HOW MANY scarves are too many? At around 100 I stopped counting mine.

Such piggery, you say. But then we all have our weaknesses, and mine at least has a practical life-enhancing side. What is too many in a time when comfort and personal style are almost universally embraced as good, even necessary, for mental and physical well-being?

A funny word, “scarf,” with its various etymological permutations. I might say that I’m someone who has been regularly scarfing down these colorful accessories most of her life. I can’t remember ever objecting to owning yet one more of them.

“Collection,” however, is not an exact description for my motley assembly of colorful neck and shoulder wraps. My habit and love of wearing them—sometimes feeling naked without one—grew through the years. They became the gifts that kept on giving, both those I chose and those received as “favors for services rendered.” (Don’t ask).

I’ve a friend, in fact, who believes a scarf is meant to be worn once or twice and then given away, usually to an admirer of the one on her person at that moment. Luckily she can afford the gesture. I’ve done the same on occasion, hoping to give some pleasure when it’s least expected.

Scarves and shawls are far better for the body than candy.

Plus, they make fair talking points when conversing with strangers, a way to break the ice. Do I dare mention they also can disguise a throat that is becoming less than firm?

I’ve never liked being cold around my neck and shoulders. And not having pierced ears, I don’t invest in expensive earrings, those surefire baubles that can lighten the face gloriously. Clip-ons aren’t always easy to find or to wear. Fabric has more sensual appeal, to my mind. Scarves can be very seductive devices.

The most precious of mine act as reminders of some special people and memorable events. They are story-tellers, even if the only audience is myself. On trips overseas to exotic climes, what better souvenir than a packable piece of fabric reflecting the culture of the country? Or an impulse buy at a museum shop after an emotionally satisfying day viewing works of art?

The special people include: The beau who caught on early to my love of such possessions outdid himself when selecting the best silk models, for instance, sure to work well winter and summer. The man is gone on to his own reward, leaving me ever nostalgic and grateful for his friendship and generosity.

And the friend in the fashion field who offered me my choice of Hermès scarf for my birthday as long as I agreed to accept the permanently pleated kind, the old plissé ones. Or the friendly colleague who really and truly claimed she didn’t like scarves and never wore them, so would I please accept one that she received for her birthday?

And of course the daughter-in-law who knows I love any shade of green—she being more blue-minded—and showed up with a heavy lime-green satin stole that sets off a plain black satin gown, basically my only piece of formal wear.

Scarves don’t disappear easily. It can take willpower to disown one. Fine fabrics often outlast the owner so the point is to enjoy them while you can. Scarves create a game you play by yourself—gauging which one goes well with your mood and your wardrobe. A child’s game that has no losers. Like wearing a painting on your body.

Of course, it’s a royal pain figuring how to organize and store them. Stores such as Target and the Container Store will sell you some simple devices—usually metal frames allowing you to hang your bounty within easy reach. Neither these nor an antique wooden stand in my possession—somewhat resembling a rack for drying clothes outside—just won’t do in my case. My scarves would sink the thing, and, in the scramble, how would I ever find the one I’m searching for?

This is an issue likely to challenge even “life coach”’ Marie Kondo, if ever she admits to being stumped or maybe just a tiny bit frustrated. Her method, suggested in one or another of her books and articles, is to roll them up, snail-like, in rows in a drawer, leaving a tail end in view as a clue.

My own method is to separate them into folded layers by dominant color or possibly function. Heavier woolen or fur (if you dare) pieces are kept closer to hand in winter. They fill at least two drawers of a small chest.

I’ve tried about everything, and nothing works perfectly, alas.

Think this entire matter frivolous? Think again when you next are putting yourself together, as the saying goes, even when in a hurry. A colorful design can engender an uplift of spirits, a cheerful distraction in a conflicted world.

And in an emergency, a scarf or shawl or stole can disguise a hole or a spill.

We agree with Ann—scarves are far better for the body than candy. They’ll also keep you warm and cozy this week during frigid temperatures. 

Acne Studios’ oversize (98-by-11 inches) mohair check scarf is this season’s statement splurge. The high price ($310) is justifiable (maybe) because of high-quality ingredients—a blend of alpaca, wool, nylon and mohair—that look good and retain  heat. For more bang for the buck, it can be used as a blanket on a plane or as a decorative throw at home. For the status-conscious, the label’s embroidered logo reads loud and clear.

The Edinburgh-based Target Blanket Co. knows a thing or two about staying warm. Made of lambswool sourced from Inner Mongolia, the company’s blanket scarf (79-by-30 inches, including fringe, $115) keeps in the heat while repelling moisture. It’s ideal for wrapping around a winter coat. 

Make someone happy with Frances Valentine’s bright and bold color-block wool scarf. Measuring  5½ x 42 inches, it looks as if a loving—and skilled— great aunt knit it for her favorite niece in the 1950s. It sells for $228.

This generously sized (70-by-17½ inches) cashmere scarf could be a conversation starter about, say, the benefits of a Mediterranean diet. Originally $428, it’s now $299.60 at Anthropologie. Note to self: indulgent gift for self?

Despite her 100-plus inventory of scarves, we bet the author of this post, Ann Geracimos, who, as mentioned, loves any shade of green, would swoon over Kate Spade’s oblong polka dot (77½ by 28½ inches) style. It’s $98 at Zappos.

Etro gets accolades for its irresistible colors and patterns. And this paisley print scarf in a modal/linen/silk blend is no exception. Recently reduced from $41o to $215.25, it is currently sold out. But if you’re smitten, here’s a similar one, also on sale, at Neiman Marcus—for $194.95.

This pull-through faux fur scarf with a horsey pattern on the reverse will look good under a coat or as an accent to a creamy silk blouse. It sells for $118 at J.McLaughlin.

Surely you have a feline lover on your list. Endear yourself to her with a gift of this crêpe de chine Calm Cat silk scarf (38-by-38 inches) from John Derian. It’s $175. The image is from Derian’s Picture Book.