Five books by cooks

A funny thing happened on the way to writing this post…

A few months ago, I wrote here about recent books I’d read and included an enthusiastic review of Save Me the Plums by Ruth Reichl. After that, I started thinking about other books I had read that were written by cooks, and it occurred to me that the book lovers/cooks among my readers may enjoy learning about them. So here’s a quick look at what that shelf in my library might look like. And — wait for it — here’s the funny thing: If you’re a bit of a Francophile, you’ve hit the motherload, because it turns out that each of these cooks have or are are working and cooking in France!

What does a 36-year-old woman do when she loses her corporate job? How about cashing in her savings and heading to Paris to attend the famous Le Cordon Bleu cooking school? That’s what Kathleen Flinn did, fulfilling a long-held dream. Then she wrote The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry: Love, Laughter and Tears at the World’s Most Famous Cooking School. Sounds romantic and it was, but then again her french was not good and her classmates were very competitive. Not only is this a recipe-laden personal memoir, it’s also the first book-length account of the experience of attending the famous school. The Sharper Your Knife did earn a spot on the New York Times best seller list and was included on a number of “best of” lists in 2007. Since then she has also written The Kitchen Counter Cooking School and Burnt Toast Makes You Sing.

Long before Kathleen Flinn took on Le Cordon Bleu, there was Julia Child. My Life in France recounts Julia and Paul’s early move to France, her discovery of — and passion for — french cuisine and her cooking adventures before, during, and after (including her own time at Le Condon Bleu!). Of course there are recipes, but I really loved this book for the story it told about Julia and Paul. The book is largely based on letters written by Julia and Paul Child to his twin, Charles Child, grandfather of co-author Alex Prud’homme. Julia’s uniquely pitched and enthusiastic voice is everywhere in the book. Most of us think of her as the dynamo behind Mastering the Art of French Cooking, which many say brought french cooking to America, and the subsequent PBS series The French Chef, both wildly successful. But Julia and Paul weathered more than their fair share of personal and professional challenges along the way, and they too are part of the story.

David Lebovitz is a former pastry chef, who spent 13 years in the restaurant fast lane at Alice Waters’ Chez Panisse before heading across the Atlantic to Paris. (Don’t they all?) He writes a dynamite blog on cooking, dining, drinking, and life in France, begun as a website before there were “blogs” and intended to promote his first book, Room for Dessert. In addition to seven recipe books, he wrote The Sweet Life in Paris which recounts his move there and the ups and downs of adjusting to Parisian life. It includes recipes for everything from hot chocolate to spiced nuts, including Carnitas, Absinthe Cake, Fig-Olive Tapenade, and so much more. David Lebovitz is fun because his cooking is all over the map.

I also read L’appart, the Delights and Disasters of Making My Paris Home, which recalls in detail both painful and funny the story of Lebovitz buying an apartment he envisioned (really a large open kitchen) and one he can afford (a derelict space in an uncertain building). In addition to his endless stream of Parisian anecdotes, this book is armed with appealing recipes like Bacon, Green Peas and Tarragon Quiche, Beef Stew with Olives, and an intriguing cocktail called The Truth Serum featuring tequila and Izarra or Charrteuse.

Finally, I’m including The Cook’s Atelier by Marjorie Taylor and Kendall Smith Franchini. They think of it as a cookbook and I do too, but it’s also a coffee table book with it’s oversized, lush photos of the Burgundy countryside and their beautiful shop in Beaune, France. And then there is the story of how Marjorie ran a successful restaurant in Phoenix before following her daughter to France, and their search to build a successful family business around their Burgundian way of life in Beaune, and the business that grew and portraits of the farmers, shepherds, butchers and more that complete their picture. The atelier’s philosophy is built around seasonal cooking, and the recipes are arranged accordingly. for example, Spring Dinner in the Wine Shop includes White Asparagus with Hollandaise, Green Garlic Souffle, and Rustic Apricot Tart.

Bonus! Virtual cooking from a Charleston, South Carolina kitchen. I’ve just discovered @BrooksReitz on Instagram. Reitz is a Charleston restauranteur and the man behind Jack Rudy Cocktail Company. He is, as he says, a cook not a chef, and his video recipes (filmed at home by his wife) are short, simple and use what you have in your pantry. (He’s big on frozen peas, eggs, celery, and whatever fresh herbs you may have.) But here’s the catch — they don’t taste simple. Reitz layers flavor to make simple ingredients stand out and gives some great lessons in technique along the way.

So there you have a particular shelf in my “library,” part cooking, part travel and part biography. If I checked out your bookshelves (real or virtual), what would I find?

Thanks for stopping by. I hope you’re safe. I hope you’re healthy.

See you again next time!

Making my case for baskets

Handmade, contemporary baskets that mimic antique designs and techniques..

When I wrote a post on collecting sweetgrass baskets, here, I was only telling part of my basket story. It goes way beyond those hand-crafted treasures from the low country.

A bit of history: My basket “thing” started out simply enough as a single girl in my first apartment. Baskets were a cheap, cozy way to corral miscellaneous kitchen tools, makeup, whatever was loose and needed a home in a small space. (This was long before The Container Store had effectively organized all of us.)

However, as my space and resources grew, so did the basket collection. Eventually my taste changed. Craftsmanship topped utility. I trimmed my collection to make room for hand-crafted and antique examples. Although my current collection ranges from the utilitarian, (holding onions and potatoes in the pantry or spare soap and cold remedies in the linen closet) and includes a stack of large, handled baskets that held gifts of flowers or foodstuffs, it’s the old and/or handcrafted ones I am drawn to.

The handmade examples

In addition to my sweetgrass collection, I’m always on the look-out for hand-crafted baskets like the large, black round one, above, that I use to stash current magazines. I bought it years ago at a folk art show and am especially fond of the black paired with the yellow handle and rim. It’s the work of a modern folk artist. The taller, natural basket in the foreground is made by the same craftsman as the black one. It’s really very sturdy. I’ve been using it as a wastebasket, but is it too nice for that? Finally, the one in the back, with greenery right now, came from the same folk art vendor as the other two. I acquired all three over the course of several years at a folk art fair I used to attend. Unfortunately the fair no longer exists, but I appreciate the handmade treasures I bought there. And I’m very glad I bought them when I found them!

I’m beginning to look more closely at the basket traditions of other countries, often so different because the materials and aesthetic are distinct. Different materials mean different colors and textures.This french market basket is one of two I brought back from our last trip abroad. The squared-off shape and sturdy leather handles are designed to carry a shopper’s cheese, produce, sausage, etc. home from the weekly market.

This is a working basket. Many market baskets have a flared shape at the top, perhaps making it easier to hold flowers or baguettes, and some even have shoulder-length handles. When it’s not looking pretty styled with fresh or faux flowers and greenery, I can use it to scoop up miscellaneous books, papers, and mail if I’m trying to quickly tidy a space. No wonder French homes have a stash of market baskets in all shapes and sizes!

Metal baskets?

I’m glad you asked. Early in my basket-collecting life, a remarkably astute friend who knew how to choose the absolute perfect present, gave me this silver basket as a wedding gift. She said she saw it in a window and immediately thought of my basket habit. This definitely put a whole new spin on my collection! I’ve used it to hold crackers or cookies and, often, to hold a plant. But it’s certainly pretty enough to stand on its own.

Along the way, I have acquired a handful of woven metal examples. I think the one below holding books is vintage as opposed to antique. Some are sturdier than others. I use this one to hold some books on top of a dresser. The much finer wire basket with the handles reminds me of French egg baskets, but I just don’t know anything about its provenence. The taller metal basket with the flared rim has an industrial vibe to it. I’ve been using it for paper waste next to my desk.

Sometimes you just have to go big!

When I find pieces like these, below, I pounce! I don’t know if either one of these is especially collectible or precious, although the wheeled basket on the right is unlike any others I’ve seen. It reminds me of taller versions used in France to hold baguettes in a boulangerie. I bought these baskets to hold spare quilts and pillows.

Do you remember the laundry baskets our mothers and/or grandmothers had for carrying wet clothes “out to the line”? I still have my mother’s natural wicker one as well as a newer white version (I have no idea where it came from). We’ve been tripping over both of them in the basement for years and my husband kept trying to sneak them into the “giveaway pile.” I just couldn’t part with Mom’s basket, but I found a solution. (That long blank wall in the finished basement needed a little something. Baskets to the rescue!)

Battered, brittle, & beautiful

Finally, I have a handful of antique baskets like these. They are not in really great shape (that would have made them far too pricey for my collecting budget), but they are lovable despite their fragile condition. I’ve had pieces of fiber snap off in my hand and I recently got a nasty splinter from one of them, so they just spend a lot of time on top of cabinets or bookcases, looking pretty, but not subject to excess weight or handling.

By now you have noticed that I use most of my baskets, some decoratively and others more practically. It gives me genuine pleasure to make these pieces part of my everyday life, to anonymously honor the artisans who fashioned them. I’ve thought a lot about why we all like baskets. Sometimes they’re just cute. They’re often purposeful whether they are serving chips or holding firewood. Some — like my french market basket — are also souvenirs. Their natural material is appealing and seems to work in any decor. In many respects, I think they have been an “accidental collection.” They started as utilitarian objects, but I kept refining the choices.

What about you? Do you have a collection that started unintentionally? I’d love to hear about it!

Thanks for stopping by to read. See you next time!

Re-writing history

It’s hard to believe that a landowner/businessman would design and oversee the construction of this mansion based on pattern books, but John Drayton did exactly that.

This year as we were planning a beach trip to South Carolina, I also wanted to re-visit Drayton Hall Plantation. Although we had visited years ago, before social media and blogging, I have been following them on Instagram for some time. And in my mind, the folks behind Drayton Hall have been doing a fabulous job of teaching history.

Briefly, Drayton Hall is an 18th-century plantation on the Ashley River about 15 miles from Charleston, and its history and architecture are notable. Historically, Drayton Hall is the only plantation to survive the Revolutionary and Civil Wars intact. Additionally, it is a remarkable example of Palladian Architecture in the United States, built by John Drayton Sr. and designed without the benefit of professional architects. Instead, like many other other wealthy and well-educated planters of his time, Drayton relied on British “pattern books” that detailed classical architecture.

The first time I visited Drayton Hall I was sorely disappointed. As someone who loves historic homes and had visited the likes of Mount Vernon and Williamsburg more than once, I loved seeing these buildings restored and renovated as necessary and filled with the appropriate furnishings. In fact, for me that was a big part of their allure.

This reflects how the building was found when it was acquired from the Drayton family, on the 1970’s. The workmanship on the paneling and molding is remarkable.

Not so at Drayton Hall.

Drayton Hall is a preservation, not a restoration. So, it’s empty. What you see are the architectural details of a building that was inhabited by Draytons from the 1740’s until it was turned over to the National Trust for Historic Preservation in the 1970’s. It has never had electricity or indoor plumbing. The preservation philosophy at Drayton Hall was to stabilize the house and maintain it as it was when acquired from the family. This was radical at the time, but it has resulted in considerable technical and scientific research into the original building and the people who lived there. And the lessons learned have given me a whole new appreciation for the role of historic preservation.

For example, historians originally believed construction was begun on Drayton Hall in 1738 after John Drayton Sr. acquired the property. However In 2014, scholars examined the wood cores of the attic timbers and determined that they were cut from trees felled in the winter of 1747–48. Because the attic would have been framed well before the remainder of the house, scholars now believe Drayton Hall was not occupied by the family until the early 1750s. This is just one example of the kinds of data the building continues to reveal.

Expanding on plantation history

Today the plantation includes an Interpretive Center and Museum. The Interpretive  Center traces the history of the property, the Drayton’s, and South Carolina. This history includes that of the enslaved people who built the house, planted the crops, tended the fields and served the family, all of which made plantation life possible. This reality is nothing like Gone With the Wind.

Drayton Hall is constructed from bricks made on-site. Often enslaved children worked on brick-making. Look closely at the red brick on the right in the third row. A child’s handprint is visible.

One of the things Drayton Hall has done very well is to reveal more about the enslaved people who lived there. Plantations like Drayton Hall and its counterparts throughout the South would not have been possible without the labor provided by the enslaved community. It’s important we understand the economic impact of slavery on the South, the North and even Europe.

During our visit we attended a presentation, Port to Plantation: Slavery and the Making of the Early Lowcountry Economy. The presentation takes visitors back 400 years to the beginning of the Triangular Trade Route (from Europe to West Africa, to the Americas, and back to Europe), paying special attention to the middle passage which carried slaves from West Africa to the Americas. Slaves were traded in South America, the Caribbean and North America, but their role in the American South is now under increasing scrutiny thanks to additional historic research like that at Drayton Hall.

Portugal, Great Britain, France, Spain and the Netherlands all participated in the slave trade, sending ships to West Africa, where they loaded slaves for the Americas, then after selling the slaves, reloaded their ships with valuable cotton and rice to return to Europe. The passage itself was gruesome, with hundreds of Africans packed onto ships. Many did not survive the journey, and those who did were often crudely “warehoused” at their destination until they regained their strength for the auction block. This was, after all, business, and the factors or agents responsible for the slave sales depended on top-dollar transactions,

Drayton Hall is not alone in re-thinking how it presents slavery. The McLeod Plantation on nearby James Island, and the Aiken-Rhett House and Nathaniel Russell House, both overseen by the Charleston Historic Foundation in Charleston have also re-cast and expanded their interpretation of slavery. They have traded the term “slaves” for “enslaved people” to more clearly recognize them as people rather than property. To read more about this, including the controversy it has generated, see the recent feature in the Post & Courier by Robert Behre.

Not everyone is a fan of this revised history. Guides at these and other sites report visitors who complain that this history is “depressing” at the least. Some are more outspoken than others. (A sign of these outspoken times, perhaps?) But as hard as some of this is to see or hear or read (I find myself speechless over the child’s handprint in the brick), I think we are very fortunate to continue to learn more about this chapter in our history. This historic site visit pushed me to consider how little I know and how much more there is to learn.

It’s also a reminder that one of life’s great gifts is the opportunity to re-think, re-write, re-imagine, and grow. What if we gave similar license to other life experiences?

Thanks for stopping by. See you again soon!