Gilding the lily

One of my delightful guests sent over a bouquet of flowers. It needed a bit of tweaking, (such as the removal of the pink and gold-threaded ribbon), and placement in a grander and more over-the-top bowl with gilded lotus flower feet. He did not see it before it left the florists, and was terrified it might be too ghastly for words, but I assured him, when I rang to thank him, that it was exquisite, and I'm sure you'll agree. But apart from that thoughtful gesture, its arrival in the late morning meant that it was not something that needed my attention when guests were arriving.

At about the same time, I was preparing the set up, with champagne and wine waiting to be placed in the fridge, once room had been made by the removal of the large casserole of coq au vin, which we had made the previous evening. Champagne does slip down easily. All of this did.

The table was laid during the late morning. Cleaning it all the next morning, (by hand) is a task that concentrates the mind and is certainly not quite il dolce far niente which would have been my preferred activity for the day. But it's good for the soul, and there is a reward in doing things for others whom you cherish.

Giving my own thanks

Today is the 25th Anniversary of my relationship with my partner. Cranes are the symbol of love and loyalty, so it seems appropriate to mark this milestone with images of a Japanese silver jar with engravings of one thousand cranes. The turtle on the reticulated lid represents longevity. I could cheekily suggest that this is fortuitous, given that it feels like a lifetime. I could also say how very inconsiderate it was of Prince William to announce his engagement last week, completely upstaging our much more momentous event; but that would be uncharitable, and in these happy times I'm feeling munificent.

But in all seriousness, I am truly grateful for these many happy years together, above everything else in my life. Last night we were preparing dinner for friends coming this evening to help us celebrate, and this activity was ably assisted by a delicious bottle of Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin Vintage 2002 champagne.

I think we might follow the very good habit of drinking champagne with several more glasses tonight.

Here's to love!

Art appreciation by wartime housewives

Windsor town, railway and the Curfew Tower and Horseshoe Cloister, Windsor Castle c.1941-4

The Round Tower from the roof of St George’s Chapel c.1941-4

These are two of 26 watercolours commissioned by Queen Elizabeth and are in the Royal Collection.

I have recently started reading the blog of Wartime Housewife and I am particularly enthused by her post entitled "Off the Wall", which I have linked here. This is a very sensible expression which encapsulates the piece:

The appreciation of art is something that should be intrinsic and accessible to all of us.  Not necessarily just staring at paintings or pots or piles of ceramic seeds, but having the understanding that the things around us should have an element of beauty.

With her reference to the works of John Piper, I thought of another wartime housewife, who commissioned rather dramatic images of Windsor Castle, for posterity, lest the Luftwaffe's endeavours rendered them to a pile of rubble.

An international tale

The author of Lindaraxa's Garden has very kindly invited me to write a guest post about the soufflés we cooked the other night. Please go and read it here, and all the other terrific recipes that she makes. The story of Lindaraxa's Garden is written here. I have not yet been to the Alhambra Palace in Granada, so initially I assumed this was the author's garden at her home in Florida. However, it was also the same name of her home in Havana, which she left in 1960, so my initial assumption was not too wide of the mark.

By one of those extraordinary quirks, it has now turned out that the author of Lindaraxa is related to a friend of mine that I have known for a very long time, since my days in Hong Kong. I had not been in touch with him for a while, and last thought that he was still living in New York, but he has moved to Miami, and we have been in touch. A small world, and indeed an even more international tale, all thanks to a soufflé.

Dimple

I came across this portrait of Lemuel Francis Abbott from Christie's here, and obviously what he looks like is of interest, given that a picture I purchased earlier this year is attributed to Abbott. This mezzotint picture is a self portrait, and shows Abbott holding a copy of a portrait of Lord Nelson.

During my visit to Scotland in September I was able to examine the picture I bought, and very pleased I was with it too. There is always a slight risk that one is going to be disappointed buying something from images only, but happily not in this instance, or indeed the others that I had not seen.

Soufflé salad on Saturday

The two leftover soufflés were chilled overnight in the fridge and I had thought of reworking them as a double cheese soufflé, but was wary of the high fat content this would require. Instead, we just eased them out of their ramekins, and served them chilled with an avocado, sliced cabbage and tomato salad. Chilled, the soufflé had much similarity to a quiche. That, the lack of added cream, and after 1500 metres in the pool, made for a much less guilty experience. But who needs that? I managed to eliminate that sense of well-being pretty swiftly with a night of debauchery.

It's all about balance, as we know.

Simple soufflé supper

Good enough to eat

Buttered ramekins coated with grated Parmesan

Egg yolk, white sauce, broccoli and blue cheese mixture, cooled, awaiting...

...whisked egg whites

Et voilà

As usual when there are just the two of us, we eat supper in the kitchen. Last night's collaborative effort was broccoli and blue cheese soufflé. We made four, according to the recipe, but managed only one each, as they are very rich. The left overs will be reworked, possibly as "double cheese" soufflés, although the requirement of cream seems likely to rule that out for me. But working methodically, and in concert makes this a relatively easy supper, with only 30 minutes prep time and 30 minutes in the oven.

Sixty lengths of the pool are begging my attention today, to effect some damage control. I'd better get on with it.

Imperial inheritance

18th century Qianlong porcelain vase, sold for GBP53.1m 

Stories, such as this from The Telegraph always provide a bit of excitement to the morning's reading. Ironically the piece looks quite ordinary, and indeed something that might have been created quite recently for the "tat" market.

Let's hope it wasn't.

A Golden Age

Christen Købke, self portrait, c.1833

I previously wrote about the pleasure of having the opportunity to visit the exhibition of works by the Danish artist Christen Købke, (1810-1848), considered the greatest painter during Demark's Golden Age of artistic development, (approximately the first half of the C19th) . What attracted me most was the extraordinary attention to detail, and the effective usage of light.

Portrait of the landscape painter Frederik Sødring, 1832, by Købke

A group of Danish painters in Rome, 1837 by Constantin Hansen. Købke made a (more brief) pilgrimage in 1838, for two years.

That his talent should be so obvious from one so young, (his portrait of his friend Sødring was made when he was 22), and that he lived such a short life, are two more remarkable facts about a man whom it appears was modest in the extreme. Talent and modesty seem to me to be rather attractive attributes, and a rare combination to find these days.

Colonel Mustard in the library

Taking my cue from Cluedo, and with a vague reference to the colours of the Knole sofa, the wing chair, and from the colour of the wallpaper, it might be appropriate that Colonel Mustard should meet Miss Scarlett in the library. This room was formerly the ballroom, and has an elaborate plasterwork ceiling, in the Adam style.

At the bay window end of the room, a huge partners' desk completes the essential functions of the room. In my own experience, this room is the perfect spot to enjoy an evening aperitif, with a book, or with someone charming and interesting. And preferably without murderous intent.

Serenissima

I mentioned in the last post my need to keep a bit of cash handy for an upcoming auction, which duly took place on Sunday, at Alex Cooper Auctioneers in Towson, Maryland.

There were two pictures by Edward Seago that caught my eye and the one above was what I bid on. It was wildly off my radar, as I had feared and achieved a price of USD75,000, considerably above my bid. Seago painted a number of similar vistas of the Grand Canal, but none as good as this. As I have mentioned previously here, and here, he is one of my favourite C20th artists, but sadly some of his work is outside of my current price range.

There was another Seago Venice picture in the same auction:

but I did not especially love it. It too went for ten times its estimate, at USD60,000. There is a danger with paintings of Venice that they become slightly boring, because it must be the most painted city in the world. But when you find good works, they are truly stunning. I would be inclined to place the Grand Canal picture in the first category, and that of the Piazetta, in the second.

Ah well, nothing ventured etc. In a couple of weeks we shall celebrate an anniversary, and given its silvery hues, this rendition of the Grand Canal would have made a fitting tribute. But so would the Holy Grail, and acquiring that isn't going to happen either.