The French call it the cinq et sept. The lost hours of the afternoon where people sneak off for a quick aperitif and a liaison with a lover.
My French actress friend Julie tells me that the tradition came about because these are the hours when women back in some unspecified olden days changed for dinner. They were half way undressed anyway, so it was a handy moment for a lover to drop by. Continue reading
Today is my wedding anniversary.
I got married to Jonathan 2 years ago on a Saturday, and we moved to New York the following Saturday. In between, we spent our honeymoon in Paris, city of romance.
I had some previous experience of Parisian romance as it happens.
When I was 15 my best friend Melanie and I managed, quite remarkably, to persuade our parents that we should be allowed to spend some of the summer holidays “perfecting our spoken French for GCSE†staying in a dodgy studio apartment in what turned out to be the red light district near the Pompidou Centre. Even more remarkably, Melanie was actually taking German GCSE. Continue reading
Hot on the quest to change her romantic fate and prove wrong a nay-saying tealeaf reader, Sara attended a speed dating event at a bar on the Upper West Side. Upon returning home she realized that her new dress had been lower cut in real life than it had looked on the hanger, and that she had been showing most of her bra for most of the night.
Possibly as a consequence of this, she received 4 requests for further information. Continue reading
In slight resistance to the New Year feeling that’s been in the air all week I’ve been regressing, clinging onto the last of the summer; turning on the chili fairy lights, cranking up the Buena Vista Social Club.
It’s not fall yet people.
Which is good news for you, the meandering couple that I got stuck behind on Bleecker Street. You know who you are. You fretted for three blocks about which color rain boots would be the best choice to buy for your dog. Continue reading
“The best thing I can think about going back to school is …†said the child on the 6 train with a dramatic pause, “nothing.â€
Whether you like it or not, there’s a distinct New Year feeling in the air, a slight chill to the breeze that whispers to our secret desire to buy a new pencil case, and start a fresh note book. In my case, the back to school spirit most usually manifests in an urge to buy slightly preppy and not very practical clothing; plum-colored tweed capes, for example, or cream suede peep toe platform Oxford booties. Continue reading
When it comes to matters pastry-related, who better to turn to for advice than a grandma, and I have, in my opinion, the very best grandma to give it.
She’s been making scones for church coffee mornings, for jumble sales and for her friends for over 70 years. A consummate stealth cook, a visitor dropping in sometime between lunch and dinner will rarely leave un-fed. Continue reading
Concerned by the empirical evidence in her date planner that she had not had sex for 177 days, and feeling rather bleak about the prospects of getting any, any time soon, Sara did something rather out of character; she agreed to see a friend of a friend who was a tea leaf reader.
They met in the restaurant at Sacks and ordered their tea. Continue reading
I first drank a gin fizz in Calcutta , where, more English than the English, the local officers club would serve them on the veranda overlooking the polo field at sunset. They were, and probably still are, served in highball glasses, but I like to serve them in tea cups that I’ve been collecting whenever I find pretty ones in second hand shops. I find them beautiful in a kitsch-y Alice in Wonderland fashion. And, since afternoon tea is somewhat fantastical anyway, replacing the actual tea with gin doesn’t seem too unlikely a stretch. Continue reading
After the Americana fest of Labor Day, and with the weather taking a turn away from the brutal to the more civilized, I’m left feeling ever so slightly homesick for an imagined England of afternoon teas on chamomile lawns, of ladies in white dresses and gloves, of PG Wodehouse, and Alice in Wonderland, summer weddings, and tea dances at the Savoy.
Strawberry Cream Tea, by Louise Leech (my friend Gwyneth's mum), Watercolour and Ink, 1967
I say an imagined England because I don’t know anybody who regularly sits down to afternoon tea. I suspect that for most of us it is an aesthetic and culinary fantasy, and is in that spirit that I interpret it and bring it into my life.
In order to even think about afternoon tea the question of tea needs to be addressed. Continue reading
My Labor Day cooking tends towards the simple – basically burgers as often as I think I can get away with them, and for dessert I want to stay in a relaxed holiday mood, to expend as little effort as possible to get the biggest reward. I want my desserts to look spectacular, to taste summery and delicious, and in honor of the occasion, I want as much red white and blue as I can muster.
