Archive for My Life – Page 5

Dragons are Definitely In

by Beverley
January 29th, 2012

The kingfisher feather lantern was a great hit with so many followers who have emailed me about the dragons I live with. I featured the black dragon holding the lantern up but I failed to mention that on four corners there are dragon heads on the lantern. Here is a close up of one of the dragon heads.

Chinese New Year is still with us and has grown in popularity throughout the USA so remarkably the past few years. I’m celebrating heavily this year because as I’ve mentioned before I was born in the Year of the Dragon. This is my year. But I’m breathing happiness not fire!

While I’d like to be in a major city in China to see the fireworks displays, or in San Francisco Chinatown for their great annual parade, the New York Times this morning made me wish I’d been there to attend the Chinese New Year gala performance of the New York Philharmonic at Avery Fisher Hall. They did it right starting things off with a traditional Chinese dragon dance, the lengthy active dragon performing all over the stage. Not surprisingly Lang Lang, the marvelous Chinese pianist, was guest performer. This is a hard act to follow but conductor Long Yu tried his best conducting the New York Philharmonic in a program that included Li Huanzhi’s Spring Festival Overture. But what I would particularly have enjoyed seeing was the troupe of Mongolian children, the Quintessenseo Mongolian Children’s Choir, performing Mongolian folk songs dressed in traditional costumes. Jennifer Taylor took the following adorable shot for the New York Times:

The children concluded their part of the program with America the Beautiful learned in English with Mongolian accent. This would have been a harder act to follow than the dragon dance!

My last post about dragons I live with brought an amazing response of emails, snail mail and phone calls. And presents! A good friend in Northern California Roberta Quan sent me two treasures with dragons:

My good friend Roberta Quan in northern California is always sending interesting articles and sometimes wonderful little surprise gifts through snail mail. She so enjoyed the Dragons Around My House blog that she contributed to the participants with this wonderful snuff bottle with a perfectly lovely dragon to join my crowd.

Roberta Quan also sent me this lovely antique silver comb with a dragon wiggling its way across the top.

And my friend Joan Selwyn brought me a copy of an enchanting children’s book she wrote using dragons to teach the A,B,C’s:

Joan Selwyn got into the dragon act with a wonderful contribution. A copy of a children’s book “ABC Dragons” she wrote and illustrated. I’ve had more fun with the book than any child could have, it’s so delightfully imaginative.

Then having thought I’d found all the dragons in my house I started looking around and I missed quite a few. How can a person miss a bunch of dragons in the house? Well I did and here they are:

How could I have forgotten my beloved TinTin statue from The Blue Lotus? TinTin has his dragons, a blue one on the vase he’s hiding in. It delights me to see the recognition TinTin is finally achieving in the United States thanks to the new film about him. It has always surprised me most American guests in my home didn’t know who he was. When someone exclaimed happily upon spotting my TinTin “Ah TinTin!” it was always said with a French, Belgian, Italian, Swiss or German accent.

And TinTin has a red dragon with him on the notebook I carry in my tote. You can see TinTin is almost as much a part of my life as my dragons are!

And TinTin has a black dragon on the cover of his book. He’s well covered with dragons too.

Yang Du is a marvelously creative young Chinese designer in London I discovered and sort of adopted. She does the most imaginative giant knitted sweaters, hats, gloves and scarves. Here’s her dragon hat for Chinese New Year of the Dragon.

By The Way
This blog was started to sell my new book and I keep going off on other topics. Please do check out The Beautiful Lady Was A Palace Eunuch at Amazon.com
Acknowledgement:
Kathleen Fetner, Technical Advisor and Friend
Categories My Life
Comments (3)

There Are A Lot Of Dragons Around My House

by Beverley
January 20th, 2012

I found this 1920’s lamp in a funny little antique store in Edinburgh, Scotland in early 1980’s. Without thinking I pulled the old dangerously frayed electric cord out and left it in the Caldonia Hotel waste basket. Once home I took it to the lamp repair shop for a new cord. A week later they called me admitting defeat. “There is no way to get a cord back through there Mrs Jackson.”

So I took it to the best electrical shop in Santa Barbara. They kept working with it a month before giving up. “We’ve tried everything. It is impossible,” they announced.

That evening my close friends Anita and the fine painter Yasu Eguchi were over for dinner. I showed them the lamp and told them the disappointing results. Yasu who loves great challenges asked if he could take it home and try. I said it was hopeless. The experts in town gave up on it.

But the lamp went home with the Eguchis. Two days later Yasu was at the front door smiling broadly holding the lamp which sported a nice new electric cord going through it.

“Yasu how did you do it?” I asked in total amazement.

Laughing all the while he explained. “I caught a live beetle and carefully tied a piece of silk thread to it. Then I pushed it through the hole in the wooden base of the lamp. Meanwhile I had Anita holding a flashlight aimed in the dragons mouth. As the beetle moved up through the curving passage in the wood following the light I attached a thicker piece of string to end of silk thread. Once the beetle crawled out through the dragon’s mouth I took the silk thread off the beetle then laid it carefully in the grass totally unharmed. Next I attached the electric cord to the end of the string and pulled that through.”

Now I have safely wired dragon lamp. And somewhere a heroic beetle is living out it’s life in healthy peace.

Chinese lantern made of blue Cambodian kingfisher feathers

A favorite dragon holds court in the entrance to my living room holding up a very large Chinese lantern made of blue Cambodian kingfisher feathers. Marie and the late Bob Carty found the very special old lantern for me in a Los Angeles antique store over 30 years ago. How to hang my lantern was a problem. A temporary plant hanging “arm” from the nursery was starting to prove not so temporary when Bob called one day to say he was on the way over with a proper black cast iron dragon lantern holder. It was perfect! “Where did you ever find it?” I asked. “I was waiting in Mike’s (Mike Haskell a mutual friend who deals in rare Native American antiques) for him to get off the phone. While I was waiting I was helping him unwrap a shipment of very old Navajo baskets and your Chinese dragon was nestled in one of them.”. We were never able to find the real provenance. Ancient Chinese palace to Navajo reservation in New Mexico to me in Santa Barbara, California. Not a usual route for sure!

Dragon from empress robe with four corner constellation

This dragon embroidered basically with silver foil covered silk thread in a technique called “couching” was one of many dragons on a very rare yellow robe of an empress from my collection. What made this robe so special was: An empress was entitled to wear five of her husband’s 12 symbols on her robes for festivals or religious ceremonies. Those symbols were sun, moon, power, good luck and a three corner constellation. This robe had a sixth symbol, a four corner constellation in addition to the three. Only six other robes with four corner constellations are known in the world. My robe is now in the collection of a Chinese collector and has been on display in the Hong Kong Museum.

Theatrical dragon robe

This is a dragon from a theatrical robe in my collection. We know it’s a theatrical garment because it has exaggerated eyes and also if it showed the sides would be closed by ties instead of buttons, easier for quick changes.

An early 20th century flag of China

Chinese flag

There are four rather harmless looking carved wooden dragons on the pair of standing lanterns in my dining room.

Dragons on the dining room table

Here is the dragon’s head from the satin table cloth in my dining room.

The bronze bowl holding apples on my dining room table weighs a ton! The handles are frightening dragons with very sharp scales. The table cloth it sits on has two dragons whose heads are more or less hidden by the bowl.

1920’s Chinese cut velvet chair cover

The four dragons seen here are playing around on a lovely pair of 1920’s Chinese cut velvet chair covers. These chair covers found popularity in early 20th century movie star mansions in Hollywood where every Steinway piano was draped with a heavily fringed “Spanish” shawl which were all made in China. Think Norma Desmond/Gloria Swanson’s home in “Sunset Boulevard”!

The Chinese cut velvet chair covers showing the phoenix

Since they hang in a narrow hallway it is difficult to photograph full length. But here you can see the very grand Phoenix bird they frolic with. And adding to delight with these dragons they are coral color, a great favorite of mine.

Rank badge for imperial prince, son of the emperor of China

This is a delightful small embroidered picture of children with a giant dragon doing the dragon dance for some celebration

This is a carved wood fragment, probably late 18th century of the head of a dragon. The inserted eye is a very fine example of Peking glass done in several colors. Some of early red paint remains in the mouth and nostril area. It most likely was originally attached to a long carved dragon.

By The Way
This blog was started to sell my new book and I keep going off on other topics. Please do check out The Beautiful Lady Was A Palace Eunuch at Amazon.com
Acknowledgement:
Kathleen Fetner, Technical Advisor and Friend
Categories My Life
Comments (6)

Leisurely Shipboard Cruises Aren’t Always

by Beverley
January 17th, 2012

As the news of the Costa Concordia tragedy in Giglio, Italy keeps coming in it overshadows all those longings for a wonderful cruise ship holiday for me. And it brings back memories. I’ve had some wonderful cruises — the Greek Isles on a small Greek ship, many cross-Atlantic adventures, Crystal Symphony and Crystal Harmony cruises in the China Seas, through the Panama Canal, in the Mediterranean. On three of the China Sea cruises I was a guest lecturer and that was great fun!

But since tragedy is overshadowing leisurely pleasure currently it is a sailing in 1969 that comes to mind. I’d been spending a great deal of time in Spain and suddenly I came to the decision it was time to change course and head home. But not a straight flight. I called my mother in Los Angeles from Barcelona and told her of my decision and asked that she book me passage on the S. S. Michaelangelo sailing for New York from Cannes in two days. And to please book me for one night in the Carlton Hotel in Cannes. I called to arrange for all the mail accumulating in London be sent special delivery to Cannes and booked my Barcelona/Nice flight. Then I packed and said my goodbyes.

I should mention that unlike most of the world I’ve never been ecstatic about the South of France. Charming Menton is fine but I prefer the Italian Riviera. Ah Rapallo and Portofino! Heaven!!! Arriving in Cannes I was shown a room in the Carlton hotel, where I’d been a previous guest, a perfectly miserable tiny room way in back with the bathroom down the hall, by an extremely rude bellman. In those days a woman traveling alone wasn’t always treated with great respect. I remember checking into the brand new Ritz Hotel in Lisbon once. The assistant manager took me to a lovely small suite and then informed me he would send a waiter up with the menu for my dinner in my room since women alone were not allowed in the dining room! Needless to say I dined elsewhere, angry as anything!

Well back to Cannes. I was finally given a decent room and bath. After requesting my mail I was told there was none. I calmed down and went out for a stroll and a light supper in a waterfront cafe. The reception there for a single woman dining alone wasn’t much better than Lisbon. The waiter couldn’t have been more rude. One sweet bus boy commented I wasn’t eating my dinner. Maybe I should get something else. I thanked him and said it wasn’t the food that had taken my appetite. And when I left it was the busboy who got a tremendous tip and I left one U.S. dollar next to my plate for the waiter. I didn’t want him to think I just forgot. I wanted him to know I remembered quite well!!!

Can’t say I had the best night’s sleep but I rose happily because I was leaving Cannes. A very nice bellman helped me this time and as we were going down in the elevator he said, “Mrs. Jackson we must pick up all your forwarded mail. A very large pile of it came from London yesterday morning.” He got a major tip too and I hope he bragged about it to the other bellmen!

The Michelangelo was a beautiful sight. Boarding was very pleasant. All the handsome Italian crew helped make the process pleasurable. My mother had booked me a lovely stateroom and even arranged floral bouquets since she was only one who knew about my departure. Even my Spanish friend didn’t know where I’d disappeared to. I dropped my purse on a chair, we didn’t have to carry our own bags then, and headed up to the top deck. It was beautiful and sunny and just enough breeze to keep the flags moving and make my hair swirl round my head. I was standing up there all alone looking at Cannes, quite pretty in those days from the sea before all the cheap apartment buildings took over. And I was thinking, “Goodbye Cannes. I had a rotten time with you. I’m going home!”

“Do you like our ship?” a very handsome Italian in white uniform with a couple of gold stripes on the sleeve asked as he joined me at the railing.

“It’s the first time I’ve sailed her but so far I certainly like what I’ve seen.” And I rather liked what I was looking at right then!

“Do you like your stateroom? What stateroom do you have?” he asked pleasantly.

My first thought was this wasn’t information I should be sharing with a stranger. But I told him. He turned white! “It’s alright Signorina. It’s alright. Everything was made good. You are safe there.”

And before he could explain his reaction newspaper headlines from the past flashed through my mind. Three years before — April 1966 — Rogue Wave hits Italian superliner Michelangelo while crossing the Atlantic to New York. The wave crashed into one stateroom so violently the stateroom was destroyed and the couple in it were killed instantly. It couldn’t be my stateroom. It was. He calmed down and explained that I was very safe now. That stateroom had been totally rebuilt and reinforced and it was the safest stateroom on the ship. And would I have dinner with him.

Well now, you don’t expect me to tell all of you everything do you! I will say as the trip progressed I was happy to have such a sturdy stateroom because we hit some very rough weather mid-Atlantic. Designer Lily Pulitzer and a couple of her children were on board and when the weather got really bad the Pulitzer family, a few hardy British types and I had the dining room and the movie theatre to ourselves. We were about the only good sailors on board except for all that good looking Italian crew.

Here safely at home I have just Googled a bit on rogue or freak waves and the Michelangelo incident. The first one recorded was off the West cost of Ireland on March 11, 1861. Preceding the Michelangelo being hit in 1966 the Captain Giuseppe Soletti had given instructions the morning of the accident to all passengers to stay in their cabins as the ship had encountered some very bad weather. He had switched to a more southerly route than usual to try to avoid the worst of it. One ship’s officer has reported: “The waves got ever more high and violent. And just at the end of one grand pitch THAT wave came up in front of us very suddenly. The ship that until that moment could ascend the waves threaded the prow into a frightening wall of water.”

The giant, freak, rogue wave was estimated to be about 18 meters high, tearing into the forward superstructure of the ship more than 70 meters away from the head of the prow. It was so forceful that extra thick windows on the bridge 25 meters above sea level were smashed. Soon after the accident the ship was able to rendezvous with a U.S. military vessel that had been in the area and American military doctors aboard were able to help the doctors on the Michelangelo. The very capable captain Soletti brought his ship safely, though limping, into New York where temporary repairs were made and ultimately she went back to Italy where the aluminum alloy sheeting that was destroyed by the wave was replaced with steel sheets. That’s why that handsome Italian officer said I was safer than anyone!

By The Way
This blog was started to sell my new book and I keep going off on other topics. Please do check out The Beautiful Lady Was A Palace Eunuch at Amazon.com
Acknowledgement:
Kathleen Fetner, Technical Advisor and Friend
Categories My Life
Comments (2)

An Italian King

by Beverley
January 12th, 2012

Today I’m going to tell you about something that I really meant to tell you about in late autumn but the holidays interfered. Well a bit late but……………

The king in my title won’t be found on any throne with a crown on his head and beautiful courtesans at his feet. He will be found in deciduous and coniferous forests and tree plantations. I speak of that treasure The Porcini which translates from Italian to English as Piglet. Not a very noble title for a king really is it! His royal relatives in France are called Cepes and they are found in the same environment. There are all those technical names like Boletus edulis and family of Boletaceae and Class Agaricomycetes — well you know those complicated names. At least his Kingdom is simple Fungi – that I understand.

The Porcini is actually found in many other countries including the United States but its just not the same. The Italian king of mushrooms reigns. Only in France with the Cepes do you get that other worldly fragrance and flavor the Italian Porcini offers. It’s an earthy flavor which is understandable since it is found hidden beneath chestnut trees in woods, or nestled into dead pine needles beneath the trees in aged pine forests. Foragers in the autumn seek these treasures in secret places known only to them. Finding the big fleshy cap atop its short round stalk is the prize reward for day long adventures in the forests. That cap can grow as large as 14 inches in diameter, but that’s a rare king indeed.

Cepes near Toulouse, France. November 1982

I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to handle a large batch of this giants which I describe in my forthcoming book Living Like A Rothschild. “It took several visit to Chateau Mouton in Pauillac near Bordeaux before I won the semi-respect of baroness Pauline de Rothschild‘s renowned chef Mesma, considered the finest private chef in France, for my culinary knowledge. Mesma wasn’t the least bit impressed with all my culinary studies from the Oriental Hotel Bangkok to Robert Carrier in London to La Varenne in Paris and many other famed chefs of the past in between. However by my third stay at Mouton Mesma finally at least appreciated my tremendous enthusiasm for the gigantic fresh cepes brought to him by peasants who foraged the forests and brought their finest to Mouton for the baron’s table. I was paid the honor of being allowed to watch Mesma’s assistants prepare the cepes, then saute sections of the stems in oil. He even let me take some photographs of the delicious mushrooms in their uncooked splendor. It wasn’t until the following autumn however that I was actually allowed to help prepare the gigantic cepes with my own hands.

As I said domestic porcini/cepes just aren’t the same. Nor are the dried versions brought from Europe. They do have their own distinct flavors and I actually prefer to use the dried Italian porcini in making mushroom soup. But oh the rare beautiful real thing!

Well this had to be leading somewhere and here it is. One day late autumn I dropped into a small very fine Italian restaurant in Santa Barbara called Via Maestra 42 for a late lunch of salad made from fresh baby calamari flown in twice weekly from Italy, Waiting in line, there’s always a line even at three in the afternoon when I usually get around to lunch, I was trying to avoid looking longingly at their incredible pastry display or the refrigerated case of gelato also brought from Italy. And what caught my eye but a display of The King. Big beautiful real fresh Porcini. The other people in line looked at me suspiciously as I went into total raptures over what they perceived as nothing but big mushrooms. I let people go ahead of me in line as I studied each specimen carefully through the glass that protected them. At $19.95 a pound I wasn’t rushing into a purchase without thorough scrutiny. I finally chose one perfect specimen about six inches in diameter, just the right color. My Porcini weighed in at just under half a pound. The young Italian woman who waited on me handled it beautifully, with true respect. Not the worship I displayed but good honest respect. She packed it carefully for its journey to my kitchen. And as I started to leave I remembered I hadn’t had lunch yet, so I returned for my calamari salad after placing the king on a chair of his own.

My half pound porcini from Via Maestra 42

And what did the future hold for my king? For dinner I wiped him gently, sliced him skillfully, sauteed him in lovely white Meyenberg goat milk butter supplied to me by Carol and Bob Jackson who keep my refrigerator stocked with this, as well as chive goat milk cream cheese, and chevre cheddar cheese (a very interesting new product). The king was joined by a salad of super crispy Sierra lettuce and heirloom tomatoes, and a glass of vintage Pol Roger champagne. It wasn’t Joel Robuchon’s or Grand Vefour or Guy Savoy restaurants in Paris or the best of dining spots in Italy — but it could have been. It was that good!

By The Way
This blog was started to sell my new book and I keep going off on other topics. Please do check out The Beautiful Lady Was A Palace Eunuch at Amazon.com
Acknowledgement:
Kathleen Fetner, Technical Advisor and Friend
Categories My Life
Comments (0)

The Saga Of The Countess Of Jersey’s Handbag

by Beverley
January 6th, 2012

A young friend who only knows the modern young Parisians emailed me about my New Year blog on Paris in the 1950’s “Why did you say they can be infuriating?”

Since I have a talent for answering a simple question with a half hour discourse I explained the following….

I’ll give you an example. Some years ago I was lunching with a wonderful friend, the late Virginia Martini, in Santa Barbara the day before I left for a month and half in France. Virginia was a very worldly woman. Her first husband was Cary Grant. Her second husband was the Earl of Jersey. Her last husband was a Polish flier in WWII who escaped to England and flew with the RAF. Santa Barbara friends had the opportunity to meet many of Virgina’s friends from her past when they came to visit her in Santa Barbara. One of her house-guests who was widely entertained during her visit with Virginia & Florian was the duchess with a most colorful past, Margaret, duchess of Argyll. Virginia was an intimate friend of David Niven and Jai, the Maharaja of Jaipur, the great grandfather of the very young current Maharaja of Jaipur, was in love with her.

Virginia Martini with my guests for a Noche de Gala Fiesta party in 1970’s, Bubbles the maharaja of Jaipur, his brother Joey, Ayesha, the rajmata (queen mother) of Jaipur, widow of Bubbles’ father Jai.

Virginia Martini with her houseguest Margaret, duchess of Argyll at a party in Santa Barbara in their honor.

A simple question from Virginia “Are you set to go?” brought the explanation that I was except I’d just discovered that morning the clasp on my black leather handbag I always carry when traveling was broken and it was too late to have it repaired.

“After lunch come back to the house and chose a couple of mine,” wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order from Virginia. She always had very definite theories or answers. I remember she once didn’t approve of a young man a certain 17 year old was dating. I was instructed to tell her “Aunt Virginia doesn’t approve of ……….. and to get rid of him.” I did convey the message and was told “ There’s no way I’m taking any advice about men from a woman who was crazy enough to divorce Cary Grant!”

But back to the handbag. Virginia had a vast array of the very finest leather bags, several with interior fittings for travel items. She insisted I take two and not as a loan but gift so I wouldn’t worry about damaging them. Virginia was at an age where home with Florian Martini and all her dogs and her friends was her life. No more fabulous travels.

Virginia Martini with one of the many stray dogs and cats who shared her bedroom and bed in her last years.

The bags were simple but superb quality.The detailing perfection. They weren’t covered with today’s LV’s, CC’s, GG’s etc. There was just a small gold monogram, a combination of VJ, her Countess of Jersey’s initials, topped by the coronet of an English countess, wife of an English earl.

Here’s what this blog is all about, Virginia Martini’s initials and coronet on bag she had when she was the countess of Jersey that I took to Paris.

Soooo I’m in Paris and I go to a marvelous stationery store where I have shopped for years. Where I have spent a great deal of money for years! And where I had always been treated exceedingly rudely by the woman who always waits on me. If they hadn’t carried such desirable merchandise I’d have walked out the first time and never returned. So there I am once again being treated most haughtily while I pick out an assortment of enchanting and excessively expensive place cards molded like rose petals. Something I would never buy today! And Virginia’s purse is casually sitting on the counter.

I just happened to glance up at the very moment my tormentor spotted that tiny gold coronet. “C’est vous Madame?” she asked in the most surprised voice a whole octave higher than she had previously always used on me. I just smiled sweetly and enjoyed from that moment on being treated like a queen. Well at least a British countess! That was infuriating but with a mixture of supreme pleasure. And Virginia enjoyed it more than I when she heard the story upon my return.

By The Way
This blog was started to sell my new book and I keep going off on other topics. Please do check out The Beautiful Lady Was A Palace Eunuch at Amazon.com
Acknowledgement:
Kathleen Fetner, Technical Advisor and Friend
Categories My Life
Comments (5)

Let’s Talk Paris Instead of New Year’s

by Beverley
December 28th, 2011

Mother wanted drama for her new Rolleiflex camera. Paris 1953.

Well it’s just about upon us and I imagine most of you have big party plans. I have to confess New Year’s Eve is not a favorite holiday of mine. I gave up accepting ALL New Year’s eve parties some years ago. I prefer to stay in comfort of my own home with my dog planning for the coming year and having a glass of vintage Pol Roger at 9:00 as we watch the ball descend in Time Square. And I go back so far it was Guy Lombardo I heard play Auld lang Syne as I sipped my champagne. Sometimes when I’m cozy in bed with Rennie my wire hair daschund snuggling close in the dark I play my IPod and do a bit of looking back as it plays I Left My Heart in San Francisco, Spanish Eyes, Autumn in New York, April in Paris and At the Balalika, Then to sleep to start a new year filled with enthusiasm for the future.

So what can I blog about New Year’s? Well since a trip to Paris is on the books for the coming year, let’s talk Paris past that comes alive as I play the music of Aznavour, Trenet, Montand, Gainsbourg, Piaf, Chevalier. I’ll just turn on my IPod to them and tell you a story or two.

Charles Aznavour the night I was taken back stage to meet him after his marvelous performance at the Arlington Theatre in Santa Barbara

Paris has actually been very much on my mind having just seen Midnight in Paris for the second time. When I first saw the film I thought of writing to Air France and suggesting they put a kiosk for booking flights to Paris in the lobby of every theatre playing the film.

The people may sometimes infuriate me but I, like so many others, have a love affair with the beautiful city. My first trip to Paris was in 1953 with my parents. Taxis were old broken down Citroen with drivers who wore black beret and all had a burning Gauloise cigarette hanging out of the corner of their mouths. And frequently a dog sitting in the passenger seat up front. They never understood my French directions, or if they did they pretended they didn’t. Oh yes and they all tooted their horns loudly and constantly.

Paris 1953. One of my favorite photographs in any of the albums.

There were public bathrooms for men on every other corner called pissoir and if you left your date to go to the ladies room in a bistro you’d probably run into him coming through another door into the area you were entering for women because they were one and the same. And the bathroom facilities in some places were really only a couple of steps ahead of the kind I find in remote areas of China.

Look at the 1953 souvenir pissoir I brought back from Paris I’ve just located hidden away on a top shelf in a back closet. American customs agents didn’t know what to make of it when I came back into the country. I remember just the shop on the Rue de Rivoli where I bought it. They sell mainly tee shirts now! But in 1953 a ceramic pissoir that held cigarettes was a big deal.

Mother was carried away with her new Rolliflex camera and insisted daddy pose at a pissoir.

There were great cabarets. That first trip in 1953 my friend David Morgan flew to Paris to show me the Paris he knew when he’d lived there. That meant magical night clubs like L’Elephant Blanc or Les Ambassadeurs where 20 violinists would serenade at your table, Russian cabarets with gypsy violinists and Cossack clad waiters rushed around with flaming shish kebob on swords. The influence of old Russian was there. Then late at night we’d go to some of the popular Black Jazz places for great music. And as night eased into day it would be hot onion soup in the bustling market Les Halles where Paris was preparing another day. It was all very romantic. Yes, I’ve been madly in love with Paris and in Paris. The latter once in my youth and once in middle age. Now I’m only in love with Paris.

So many memories come back to me as I sit here in Santa Barbara at my computer. One thing the film has done is send me to the bookshelves to find the late Art Buchwald‘s I’ll Always Have Paris and when I finish that I’ll find Janet Flanner. Art came to Santa Barbara once to lecture and I decided to call the Santa Barbara Biltmore where I knew he was staying and leave a message asking for an interview for my column By The Way. Margaret, the switchboard operator whom I knew well put me on hold and next thing I knew I heard a gruff voice, male, saying “Hello!” I stammered “Is this Mr. Buchwald?” “Well that’s who you called isn’t it?” “Well I didn’t want to talk to you,” I mumbled. “Then why the hell did you call me?” “I meant to just leave a message.” “Well you got me!”

At that point I pulled myself together and asked if I could interview him. “Yeah, come right over to the Biltmore and have dinner with me. I don’t like eating alone!” he ordered. “Well I have a young daughter here I can’t leave and it’s too short notice to get a sitter.” “I’ve got a young daughter too. Bring her along.” And he hung up. So we got out of our blue jeans as we called them then, dressed up and went off to a wonderful evening with Art Buchwald!

Rereading I’ll Always Have Paris after many years I was amused with what Buchwald wrote about a visit to Baron Philippe de Rothschild’s chateau in Pauillac where I have spent so much time in years past. Speaking of Alix Lichine, wine writer and vintner, Art writes:

“Lichine briefed me on wine-tasting in his own cellars. ‘Always swish the wine around in your mouth clockwise for Bordeaux, counter-clockwise for Burgundy. Never swallow it; spit it out.

“We went to the Chateau Margaux and the Chateau Latour, and I spat. Lichine was pleased with his pupil. Our last stop was Chateau Mouton-Rothschild, owned by Baron Philippe de Rothschild. Baron Rothschild, a charming host, showed us through his caves and then invited us to an elegantly furnished glass salon overlooking all his vineyards. One of many priceless items in the room was an 18th century rug. A servant came by and handed me a glass of champagne. I swirled it around in my mouth. Lichine looked at me in horror, and screamed, ‘NO!’ It was too late. I spat it on the carpet.”

Now instead of words let’s look at pictures of Paris 1953, more than 50 years ago:

David Morgan hosted a party in an Arab cabaret. Can’t remember the couple in the middle but that is my mother on the left with a sort of “yes I’m the chaperon” look on her face.

Mother and I went to Longchamps Race Track for the important Arc d’Triomphe

Mother, Dad and me by the Seine 1953

There were many trips back to Paris after 1953. Here is photo from one in 1965 when I took “a certain seven year old” to Paris for the first time. This Christmas Eve Jamie Constance and Robbie Woodward reminded me that is how I referred to my daughter (on the right) through the 22 years I wrote my column for the Santa Barbara News-Press. Of course it changed after each birthday and the years passed quickly by…

Paris 1965

Artists Danya and Bruce Bomberger, interior designer Bill Cornfield and I were all in Paris one trip and we took a driving trip together through Normandy and Britanny. Danya and Bill wanted to stop at every Brocante (a low quality antique store) we passed and we passed a lot of them! Bruce would get out his sketch pad while they shopped and I’d take off to investigate markets and food stores. And once Bill reminds me they couldn’t find me. I’d followed a wonderful fragrance and found it beyond an open window of a kitchen. The Breton responsible for that heavenly fragrance, a delicious veal stew, laughed at me sticking my head through the window to his kitchen inhaling deeply and smiling a blissful smile and invited me in to try some. Bill says they located me by my laughter and there I was sitting at the kitchen table eating and laughing and having a lovely time. 1977

That’s enough looking back for now even though I only look back to happy occasions. I’ve got to get ready for the New Year and so it’s time to start planning for the next trip to Paris! Happy New Year wishes to all of you. Look up, look ahead, don’t look back to old sadness but glory in happy memories and move on searching for what is good is my wish for everyone.

By The Way
This blog was started to sell my new book and I keep going off on other topics. Please do check out The Beautiful Lady Was A Palace Eunuch at Amazon.com
Acknowledgement:
Kathleen Fetner, Technical Advisor and Friend
Categories My Life
Comments (4)

Embroidering The Wings Of Angels With Silver Beads

by Beverley
December 27th, 2011

L’Eglise Saint-Roch was filled with floral tributes from all the important names connected with Paris haute couture. The priest, Rev. Christian Lancrey-Javel said, as he helped lay a black lace shroud on the coffin, “The indefatigable Francois Lesage might be up there now busily embroidering the wings of angels.

I would never turn down an invitation to lunch with a very attractive Frenchman so when Francois Lesage invited me to lunch with him at Bistro Gardens in Beverly Hills in 1989 I accepted with great pleasure. And lunch naturally turned into a Santa Barbara News-Press column for me.

Francois Lesage & Beverley Jackson at I. Magnins

Following luncheon I went with him to the I. Magnin‘s department store, now also departed, in Beverly Hills to see the new House of Lesage collection of jewelry being sold there. Well it turned into quite an expensive luncheon because I could not resist a lovely coral and pearl bracelet I spotted.

Lesage coral bracelet

Now sadly I read in London obituaries that Francois Lesage has died at the age of 82 after a long illness. He was a truly charming gentleman with fine sense of humor and he was in a business that absolutely and totally fascinated me. In 1924 Albert and Marie Louise Lesage, his parents, purchased an embroidery firm Michonet which had once been embroiderers to Napoleon III. In 1925 they changed the name and it became the House of Lesage, an embroidery business specializing in a technique that enables a greater range of shades in beads or thread within one color and a wider range of different colors. Their technique was first put to use by the famous designer of the period Madeleine Vionnet.

At the age of 18 Marie Louise and Albert’s son Francoise left Paris and went to Hollywood to learn contemporary costume decoration from the famous studio designers including Edith Head, Irene, Adrian and especially my adored friend the late Jean Louis. One of the most famous dresses in the 20th century was the great gown Jean designed for Marlene Dietrich to wear in one of her Los Vegas performances and that gown was beaded by Lesage in Paris. To see the great Dietrich in this incredible gown, covered on entrance by the most glamorous luxurious white fox coat with train ever made, was a never to be forgotten experience. The beading was done on transparent silk and there was great debate about whether you could really see through it or not. I couldn’t tell when I sat up close for a performance in Las Vegas and Jean never confided the truth to me! He could be a real pixie!

Before Albert Lesage died in 1949 Francoise Lesage did well in Hollywood. He had ultimately opened his own boutique on the Sunset Strip where all the big stars were his customers. But it was goodbye Hollywood and all its glamour when Albert died. Back to Paris to take over the family firm.

However he went back to other stars, Yves Saint Laurent, Balenciaga, Schiaparelli, Balmain, Dior, Givency… The beading that Lesage created for the great haute couture gowns can probably never be accomplished again in the future. The artisans who executed the designs are dying out, although looking ahead Francois set up am embroidery school in 1992 connected with his workshops for young people to learn the great techniques of embroidery and beading past. Chanel who bought the House of Lesage in 2002, following his example, have I understand recently purchased a famous Parisan feathermaker Andre Lemarie so that another ancient art can be passed on to future generations.

The two items I have ever most coveted in western design (we’re not counting imperial Chinese robes here!) were beaded by Lesage. One was a jacket for Saint Laurent solidly beaded on a design of Van Gogh sunflowers. The beading was done in layers to display the thick areas of paint in Van Gogh’s work. And the price of the jacket was in a range with a small Van Gogh painting of the time. And worth it. More than 600 hours of work went into each jacket. Speaking of value of work, the wedding dress Lesage beaded for King Khaled of Saudi Arabia’s daughter is said to have cost 60 million French francs, approximately 11 million U.S. dollars at the time. That’s a lot of beads, sequins and pearls! Or maybe real gems?

Luckily for me one of new things Francois ultimately did was go into a line of jewelry and beaded accessories created by Gerard Tremolet for Lesage in 1987. Lucky for me because I could finally afford Lesage — the bracelet and a pair of earrings!

The other piece I coveted was a Christian Dior ball gown from the collection of 1949. I won’t try to describe it but here is a picture. It was perfection! Several of them were sold. I saw one close up in an exhibition of Dior in New York at the Metropolitan Museum years ago. That gown had been made for Mrs. Byron Foy who had donated it to the museum. The other time I saw it was at the marvelous “Hommage a Christian Dior 1947-1957” exhibition in Paris in 1988. This exhibition also displayed framed “samples” of the great beading used on the gowns which were prepared for designers to chose from. For every collection, spring, fall, winter, summer from 250 to 300 samples were made by Lesage for their customers to chose from. One sample represents 40 to 60 hours of work and about 100,000 stitches. Each year Lesage uses 750 pounds of pearls keeping a lot of oysters busy! And 100 million sequins are used.

page from the book “The Master Touch of Lesage”

Brown Jacket with Lesage beading

Lesage beading does indeed deserve to be framed. Or preserved somehow. A very old Galanos dress that could never fit again but had great Lesage beading found a second life as part of a brown velvet jacket my clever dressmaker and friend Quy created. Quy was fascinated working on it as there was some cutting and piecing needed and the Lesage work was so finely done not one single bead came loose in the process. I found an original design for beaded work in “The Master Touch of  Lesage” by Palmer White that was created originally for Karl Lagerfeld in 1986. Comparing it with my embroidery, Jimmy Galanos might have been influenced by that design for Lagerfeld, eliminating a very elaborate border of a supposed ruby and diamond Cartier necklace and going heavy on tiny yellow, orange, red and white sequins. If  I’d found this earlier in life I could have tried to verified it. Galanos was a close friend of the late Maggie and Jean Louis and we were together at their New Year’s eve parties in Montecito most years. This comes to mind as New Year’s eve is upon us now.

Francois Lesage, working with his skilled beaders and embroiderers, produced great beauty during his lifetime. In my opinion he deserves to be considered a great artist. And as I said originally, a very charming man.

By The Way
This blog was started to sell my new book and I keep going off on other topics. Please do check out The Beautiful Lady Was A Palace Eunuch at Amazon.com
Acknowledgement:
Kathleen Fetner, Technical Advisor and Friend
Categories Editorial, My Life
Comments (2)

A Christmas Story Unlike Others

by Beverley
December 18th, 2011

Paper the cookies were wrapped in…

It seems to me there is nothing more to write about Christmas but everyone is trying. Well I can’t just let it pass so I’ll tell you a story. I always have one of those!

Two years ago I got an email from someone with DE at end of their email address which I thought to be Denmark but it wasn’t it was Germany. It was a very polite note from a man named Georg Gebhard who it turned out lived in Cologne with his wife Christel.

Dr. Gebhard explained they had my book Kingfisher Blue and they collected kingfisher feather jewelry and they were going to Tuscon, Arizona (I assumed for some warm weather in March). He said if I would allow them to come and see my collection they would travel via Los Angeles instead of New York.

I discussed it with friends at dinner that night. “How do you know they aren’t burglars?” one friend said. “Or serial murderers,” someone else interjected. “You can’t do that, invite total strangers from internet in!” another cautioned.

Well, I didn’t listen and the end of February Christel and Georg arrived to see me. We had the most wonderful visit. I found out they weren’t serial murders or international jewel thieves, they were famous mineralogists. And they weren’t going to Tuscon for the weather but as featured lecturers at the great Tuscon International Gem Fair. And they were taking some of their famous collection of rare minerals to display at the Fair. Not only that, I discovered the mineral Christelite was discovered by Christel and is named for her.

And most amazingly they had brought my book to be signed and informed me they had paid $400 for the out of print copy. I nearly fainted. This was a $50 book I made $4.70 a copy on. Georg then urged me to go to my computer and look up the book on Amazon. That’s when I really nearly fainted. There were two used copies for $1,350 each and those two soon sold as I followed them closely. I immediately called my publisher and asked if I was dead and didn’t know it! Incidentally the book can now be found for about $300 as seeing that amazing $1,350 price people started parting with their own used copies.

But back to my visitors. A lovely friendship grew out of my gamble on a polite note from Germany. The Gebhards have urged me two years in a row to go to Tuscon for the gem fair with them and oh I wanted to. But lingering Shingles horror prevented it. I’ve been to the event once but just saw the tourist things really. Going with them I’d be in the inner circle seeing the great gems and minerals. And they are such fun to be with. I’ve mentioned their name to people like my old friends Carol and Mike Ridding who have internationally famous Silverhorn Jewelers headquartered in Santa Barbara and they looked at me with new respect! I was a friend of the Gebhards.

Gebhard Christmas card

The enchanting Christmas card from Christel and Georg Gebhard that accompanied the cookies. And there are the most delightful sparkles on the tree lights, kitchen utensils and angel wings.

Alright, you asking what does all this have to do with Christmas. Well it has to do with a wonderful package that arrived today, filled with Minerals? NO! Filled with marvelous Christel-made Christmas cookies just like I’ve had at Christmas fairs in Baden Baden and Munich at Christmas time long ago. I could actually smell the heavenly aroma through the thick box. The aroma that takes me once again to some of those enchanting Christmas street fairs in Germany. I’m writing this well enough ahead so I don’t have to share the cookies because they’ll all be gone by the time Kathleen Fetner gets this post up. Well, I guess I’ll have to share some with Kathleen because she does such wonderful things with my blog, finding the incredible videos and all the techie stuff I can’t do for myself. And I should add the card accompanying the cookies was the dearest card ever. Kathleen will be posting it so you can see for yourselves.

So I’ll just end with merry Christmas and happy holidays whatever it is you celebrate.

And now I’ll pack some cookies for Kathleen and eat some more myself! I think I’ll start with the hazel nut ones. I REALLY like those!

By The Way
This blog was started to sell my new book and I keep going off on other topics. Please do check out The Beautiful Lady Was A Palace Eunuch at Amazon.com
Acknowledgement:
Kathleen Fetner, Technical Advisor and Friend
Categories My Life
Comments (3)

A Colorful But Rather Self Indulgent Life

by Beverley
December 14th, 2011

It was bigger news in Paris and London than in Santa Barbara, California but I read with interest the obits in the European papers about the recent death of la Baronne de Cabrol. Born Marguerite d’Harcourt the daughter

of Etienne, Marquis d’Harcourt, she was known throughout her life as Daisy. Reading these obits la Baronne emerges as one of the very last of an era of French aristocratic society who swirled in a seemingly glamorous whirl in living their lives. I met her only once, casually, when a group of us shared a chartered plane to fly from Paris to Bordeaux for a Rothschild wedding in the 1980’s. She was part of a very colorful group of fellow passengers including the wife of the President of France, Mme. Jacques Chirac, designer Pierre Cardin, the glamorous Vicomtesse de Ribe among others. But I’ve read quite a bit about Daisy Cabrol through the years.

It appears her years of marriage to Baron Fred de Cabrol de Moute were happy years, colorful years. Her late husband was a talented amateur artist and interior designer who not only did work for homes and chateaux for many of their group but also for such places as the Hotel George V in Paris. He was particularly known for intriguing scrapbooks he kept of photographs, newspaper clippings and his own delightful water colors that visually documented their world.

Daisy loved parties and society columns were filled with pictures of her during the era of great balls in Paris, during the 1950’s in particular. She especially liked costume balls and hosted many herself. It should be explained that these extravaganza galas were not the parties we call balls in this country which are generally glorified dinner dances. They were great events with the most famous haute couture designers in Paris doing the costumes, entertainment produced by famous name entertainers or the entire troop of the Ballet Russe or the Cuevas Ballet performing, and on occasion complete dramatic temporary buildings were built to stage the galas.

As the obits go the London Telegraph gets into the sexier part of Daisy Cabrol’s life more than the parties. British papers are prone to do that! They bring up the story that in 1945 the British Ambassador to France, Duff Cooper, (the paper calls him the Lothario Ambassador to Paris!) took an interest in Daisy which upset his then mistress Louise de Vilmorin to the point that his wife Lady Diana Cooper had to console de Vilmirin and assure her that Duff really loved her. The British and French are inclined to be more understanding in such situations than Americans. Cooper, in writing about the incident in his fascinating letters now out in book form edited by his son the Viscount Norwich. described her as “sweet but not very clever girl. She is very proud of being the only one in Paris who is faithful to her husband and says she intends to remain so. I really don’t mind.” Fred de Cabrol died in 1997 and I haven’t been able to verify if she kept her word on this!

I have found one incidence of her not being very clever. That is when she attended a 1951 ball with theme of costumes of 1900, hosted by Vicomtesse Marie-Laure de Noailles, dressed as an armless and legless woman! This in my mind brought the theatrical self indulgent way of life for many in her group to a new low. La Baronne’s life wasn’t really a life that contributed much to her fellow man but it has given those of us who are ancient enough to remember and/or read books about the European world following WWII some amusing reading. Speaking of which I’m deep into a new British book West End Front by Matthew Sweet on what went on during World War II in London’s grand Hotels such as the Ritz, Dorchester, and Claridge’s where many of the famous and infamous took refuge during the Nazi bombings of London. Fascinating to read of leading political figures, movie stars, courtesans, Nazi spies, sharing limited space in underground shelters beneath the hotels during bombing raids and living down the halls from each other on a full time basis. And most interesting to me I’m reading incidents involving people I actually knew, in a few cases quite well. So there is bound to be a blog forthcoming on this book eventually!

By The Way
This blog was started to sell my new book and I keep going off on other topics. Please do check out The Beautiful Lady Was A Palace Eunuch at Amazon.com
Acknowledgement:
Kathleen Fetner, Technical Advisor and Friend
Categories Editorial, My Life
Comments (5)

Thank Heavens for Julia Child and Trader Joe’s

by Beverley
December 8th, 2011

Bamboo steamersHave you ever had that experience of walking into the kitchen one sunny morning and it’s suddenly very obvious that it has been 20 years since you’d repainted and it shows?  Well maybe you haven’t, your home is probably newer than mine. But it can happen. Yes, it has happened to me. “Okay ” I said to myself and Rennie (my spoiled miniature wirehair daschund). “We get it painted.” I called a perfectionist friend and secured the name of marvelous painters and I’m going going to have a clean neat kitchen. “We’ll be there at 8:00 promptly,” they said happily. Not my best time of day but I didn’t say a word. “And please have everything cleared out.”

Cleared out started with seven different bottles of assorted soy sauces, four kinds of vinegars, three olive oils, bottles of sherry, Madeira, Marsala wine, and all the “use them all the time spices” taking up the whole right side of the stove top.  I cook basically salt free now but out in case salt is needed there is regular salt, Lawry’s seasoning salt, salt in a cute grinder, Himilayan and Dead Sea rock salt with a miniature grater as well as grinder jars of plain black pepper, five color pepper, lemon pepper and white pepper. Hanging above to be removed is my collection of antique copper pots and in the other corner waiting to be carted to card tables in the dining room my blender, Cuisinart, toaster oven, electric tea pot, coffee grinder for golden flax, big bag of dog food, bowls of lemons, limes, and bananas. Potassium you know, bananas that is. And tucked in very back a brown paper bag with avocados ripening in it. On the shelf over the sink there is the cute wooden mushroom shaped thing and round of wood I use for crushing garlic, a bunch of lemons ripening, pomegranites my neighbors brought from their ranch and a 10 year old jar of honey in case of burns. The fire extinguisher is on the floor but leaning against a wall to be painted so that has to be schlepped into the dining room as well. And can’t forget the items on top of the refrigerator — Chinese bamboo steamers and lids of every size from 4″ diameter to 14″ with one lid you wouldn’t believe.  Customs insisted it was a hat as I came through on one trip en route home from remote parts of China. “It’s a lid for my bamboo steamer!” I’d argued. They listed it as a taxable hat.

But this was just the beginning. The book shelves of cook books lay waiting. Two shelves of Chinese, one shelf each for Italian, French, and “assorted countries” — not sure Charlie Trotter would like his five very good cook books thrown into other assorted countries but then Charlie isn’t French, Italian or Chinese now is he. But its the very top shelf that got to me — first with an allergy attack because dust had been gathering up there for at least 30 years. The other way it got to me was what was there, mainly sort of ancient pamphlets and booklets given out by various companies with recipes. You know, Jello Company on how to make 20 kinds of fruit jello molds. I realized that pre-Julia Child we actually used those things.

Before my EBay seller gets them I’ll go into a bit of detail for you:

True Grits Cookbook

True Grits by Rosa Tusa and Sam C. Rawls is a book for “Yankees who don’t know a ‘Limping Susan’ from a ‘Hopping John’, and for Southerners too, who always wanted to know but were afraid to ask.” I wanted to know how to make a Hopping John? I can’t believe it. Even at my youngest most unsophisticated I could never have wanted to make a Hopping John.  But he’s been up there waiting for me. One pound dried black-eyed peas, 1/2 pound salt pork sliced, 1 teaspoon Tabasco….No I don’t think so.

The Best of Kahlua has some stains on it and I can see why. Kahlua Chocolate Pralines, Black Russian Brownies, Kahlua Eggnog Pie. Yes, this one might have a second life with me. Rennie of course being a little dog can’t have chocolate — not that she hasn’t tried.

"Well if I can't have chocolate a girl's got to have some fun!"

"Well if I can't have chocolate a girl's got to have some fun!"

The James River Plantations Cookbook: A Glimpse Into the Homes and Kitchens of Old Virginia. Berkeley Pecan Pie served with Shirley Sauce: 1/2 pound butter, 10 tablespoons brown sugar, yolks of 2 eggs, 10 wineglasses of wine, 1 glass brandy. I think not. I like my guests able to carry on some sort of conversation with dessert not pass out from the sauce. Aunt Lucy’s Fat Pie is even worse for you than Shirley’s sauce. But the riverside homes are lovely.

James River Plantation Cookbook

Shirley Plantation color photo: On the mahogany sideboard in the dining room of Shirley rests the silver saucepan in which the Wine Sauce always was made.

James River Plantations Cookbook

James River Plantations Cookbook

Crepes and Other Flaming Desserts: Reminds me of night long ago when my best friend, the late Consuelo Courtright La Cava’s father Hernando Courtright was opening a very fancy new dining room at the Beverly Hills Hotel he called the Persian Room. I think he was influenced by the cabaret of the same name in the old Plaza Hotel where a singer named Hildegard offered dramatic love songs nightly while she peeled off her opera length gloves and waved a huge silk handkerchief. We had been through course after course of flaming soup, flaming shish kebab, cherries jubilee made at our tables, when I looked up and saw a waiter rushing by with a dish we hadn’t been served. I stopped the waiter and said, “We haven’t had one of those!” He called back over his shoulder as he dashed on, “You don’t want it. The bread tray caught fire!”

A dusty little book The Big Spread – an Encylopedia of Hors d’oeuvres and Canapes by Ruth Chier Rosen. First page I turned to was Chopped Liver Pineapple. No I think I’ll pass.  Thousand Island Dip? No. Bacon wrapped around Watermelon pickles.

Next booklet…

The Seven day Milk Diet for Women doesn’t even specify non-fat? Next…

The Zodiac Diet Cook Book 1970. Okay I’m Scorpio. Scorpio – You are the most passionate of any othe zodiacal sign… Alright but what should I eat on my diet? Tomato Aspic. I thought that went out with dinosaurs. But in fairness looking back it was kind of good.

Wick and Lick – A Gazette of Chafing Dish Specialties; This was probably a necessity considering when I got married in 1956 Sterling silver chafing dishes were a gift of choice. I got nine of them and two copper. Well there’s a recipe for Cherries Jubilee. I do have three of the chafing dishes packed away somewhere. Maybe worth a try. Oh but last chapter is Menu for Safety and that cautions more than 1/3 of injuries from home accidents occur in the kitchen. One more thing good about Trader Joe’s pop ’em in the oven and heat as opposed to flaming in a chafing dish.

Here’s one Cointreau – The Slow Glow: Well not so slow if they use Shirley’s Sauce proportions.

A collection of Choice Recipes by St. Jude Hospital Guild 1963-1964; Even a children’s hospital guild can’t get off the alcohol kick. Grasshoppers for Eight takes 1 quart vanilla ice cream, 1 cup green Creme de Menthe, 2 cups milk, 1 cup Vodka. But I have to admit I used to drink things like that long ago. Oh those late late nights when the night clubs on the Sunset Strip closed and we gathered at a small place on lower La Cienega to hear a wonderful young Afro-American pianist and singer name Bobby Short. We’d sit at the piano bar enraptured drinking things like Pink Squirrels. I get nauseaus even writing the name now.

Here’s an old yellowed booklet A Cook’s Tour – Plantation Recipes from the Bayou. The drawings of homes are enchanting. Oreilles de Cochon or Pigs Ears that starts with a heaping teaspoon of lard not so appealing. Rabbit Sauce Piquant which calls for 3 wild rabbits cut in serving pieces could be easily supplied in Santa Barbara the last couple of years. We’ve had rabbit epidemic but oh those tiny bunnies munching on our lawns and leaves are so adorable who could possibly…

Now here’s one I’ll hang on to because there is a blog brewing about a trip I took long before Castro to Cuba with my parents.

Cuna Del Daiquiri Cocktail – La Habana Cuba. You have to wait for that one. So does Ebay.

How to Dress, Ship and Cook Wild Game 1945 Remington Arms Company Inc. Didn’t expect to find them in the cookbook business! It covers everything from opossum, raccoon, woodchuck to mountain sheep, caribou, moose and elk. EBay gets that one.

The Hawaiian Homemaker’s Favorite Island Recipes 1956. But what’s an Hawaiian recipe booklet without a recipe for Poi. They have a Poi Cocktail that calls for 4 cups milk, sugar, salt, nutmeg, vanilla, rum and 2/3 cup poi. But how do you make poi? I never liked it really but Hawaii without poi? Ebay.

Well this gives you an idea. There are at least 50 more. In conclusion I’ll say one thing “Thank heavens for Julia Child… and Trader Joe’s!”

Beverley Jackson and Julia Child

One of nights I was a participant in Julia's TV show that was filmed in a Hope Ranch home in Santa Barbara

By The Way
This blog was started to sell my new book and I keep going off on other topics. Please do check out The Beautiful Lady Was A Palace Eunuch at Amazon.com
Acknowledgement:
Kathleen Fetner, Technical Advisor and Friend
Categories My Life
Comments (0)
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