Wednesday, July 01, 2015

Hello, new adventure!


I've spent nearly twenty years in the design world, from museums to magazines, so I'm thrilled to announce a brand new venture that brings everything together: a ** web shop ** of some of my favorite finds discovered on fun days out antiquing. I'm all about easy, pretty and functional items... candlesticks, dishes... things that have been used and treasured for so many years and that bring a very real sense of history to a room. Well-made and well-loved objects have an innate charm and hopefulness, and that's precisely the kind of feeling I want in my home. Now, you can imbue your home with it too. The first round of antiques and vintage items is up, with many more to come! 

Find out more at mailepingel.com


xo,

m



Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Feasting at the Getty

Last month I took my second historical cooking class with Nancy DeLucia Real at the Getty Museum. I'd done Gothic Desserts several years ago and had a blast, so was happy to find another that worked with my schedule. (And for which there were tickets, as these daytime classes sell out as soon as they're posted!) This time around it was A Renaissance in Dining: Culture and Cuisine of the Northern Italian Courts. We began with a lecture, had a gallery tour of Italian manuscripts... and then we got cooking.



Somehow I found myself at the marzipan station, so I got off rather easily in terms of effort as some of the recipes required a bit more work, like stewed artichokes, Venetian fritters, and tagliatelle with cinnamon and sage. All in all, though, things were surprisingly simple to create. Banquets of the era would have been more elaborate (stuffed peacocks and the like) but these dishes were really very easy. And it's fun to think you're making something with such a long history.



The tagliatelle dish was my favorite, and it now has me putting saffron in my pasta water to intensify yellow color of the noodles. According to a Bolognese legend, tagliatelle was invented in 1487, inspired by the long blonde hair of Lucrezia Borgia, daughter of Pope Alexander VI. Holliday Grainger was good casting in Showtime's The Borgias! But I digress. To make the recipe at home, just get your salted pasta water boiling, add a few saffron threads, and cook according to the directions. (We made fresh pasta in class but I use ready-made at home.) In the mean time, heat a few tablespoons of olive oil in a pan and add in a handful of sage leaves, letting them sizzle and cook for just a few minutes. When the pasta is ready, drain (reserving a cup of the cooking water) and sprinkle with about 1/8 of a teaspoon of cinnamon and the fried sage. Toss, adding a little saffron water and/or extra virgin olive oil to thin, as needed. You can then top each serving with a little parmesan. It was so simple, and so flavorful.


And because the marzipan was so easy (and because I want to document it here, so I don't lose it), I'm posting the recipe below. I spent a Christmas in England years ago and one of the holiday confections we made were marzipan-stuffed dates, decorated with a little slice of red cherry. We used ready-made marzipan but how delicious would they be with homemade, which is softer! In my book, it's never too early to start thinking about the holidays.

Ingredients
2 cups slivered almonds
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1/4 rose water
extra-fine sugar for coating
12-14 slivered almonds for garnish (in class we also had strawberries for garnish)

Method
Grind together the almonds, sugar and rose water in a food processor. Process until the mixture is smooth. If the marzipan is too crumbly, add 1 teaspoon of water the mixture. With slightly wet hands, shape a small about of the marzipan into a 3/4-inch ball, roll it in the fine sugar and place it in a candy-size paper cup. Decorate with an almond slice. It will yield 25 to 30 balls.

See? Easy! And if you wanted to coat them in chocolate, I certainly wouldn't stop you.


To learn more about the Getty's culinary classes, click here.


Thursday, May 28, 2015

On my enduring love for David Hicks...

Sometimes the best quotes aren't from the designers but from the clients: 
"David walked in, asked for a glass of port and the plans of the houseand, after only a brief tour, made all the right decisions in half an hour."   
James Hamilton, the 5th Duke of Abercorn, on designer David Hicks, whom he'd hired to redo the interiors of his family estate, Barons Court, in County Tyrone, in Northern Ireland. From Architectural Digest's 1979 book Traditional Interiors, with photographs by Derry Moore (for whom I also have an enduring love).



Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Paintings that comfort: the work of Japanese artist Fumi Komatsu





We spent the better part of the last few months in Phoenix, where my husband's family lives and where my mother-in-law passed away, a month ago today. The final weeks of her life were spent at Hospice of the Valley's Sherman Home on the Mayo Clinic campus, a place we all felt so lucky to have found. It's a wonderful facility--not only does it have an amazing staff but it has generous places (both indoors and out) for families to gather and process their grief. The purpose-built building puts the emphasis on nature (every patient room has a private patio and an always-filled bird feeder) but what I most fell in love with were the many naturalist paintings by Japanese artist Fumi Komatsu. I'd never heard of her, and still don't know much, but I loved her brushwork, palette and subject matter.



I don't know why Sherman House has so many of her works... perhaps they belonged to the Shermans, who funded the facility, or perhaps they were donated by another local collector. No one I asked seemed to know. The little detail I've gleaned on Komatsu is that she was born in 1930 and traveled to New York in the 1950s, after winning a Rockefeller Foundation for International Young Artists award and a one-year fellowship. After completing the fellowship, she entered a New York University competition for foreign artists, which she also won, and for which she received another fellowship. This seems to have been the pattern for a number of years, during which time her work was shown at the Museum of Modern Art, Jenson Gallery and Gallery 75, among others. Patrons included William and Babe Paley, George and Virginia Ullman (with whom she stayed in Arizona during the 1960s) and foreign dignitaries. In a 1961 article in the Arizona Republic, Komatsu explained that she felt “more Japanese in America,” an idea that intrigues me. “You cannot be very Japanese in Japan—at least not in your style of painting," she continued. "In Japan, I feel very tight, very restricted. Here, I feel very free to explain and interpret myself through oils, watercolors, tempera, wood cuttings.”

Maybe it's that uninhibited freedom, a joyful expression, that I'm responding to in her paintings... they provided such an uplifting respite in a time of such sorrow. So why has Komatsu's name all but disappeared? Where have other paintings gone? If anyone knows more about her, or how to find her work, please leave a comment. Until then, I'll just keep watching for one to appear... I'd love to have one.













Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Sweetly made: Bonbonnières



When Italian designer Luca Nichetto's new Bonbon side tables (above) appeared in my inbox last week, it was pretty much love at first sight... but they also got me thinking about the term bonbon, in general. It is February, after all, the month of all things sweet and gooey, so I'm indulging in a little history. The word bonbon, which (for the most part) means a small chocolate candy with a soft center, is of French origin and translates simply to "good good" or "doubly good." Its first known use is, according to Webster's, 1770, although various sources point to later 18th-century dates and suggest it was actually a nursery word. Some, however, take it back even early, tracing the introduction of chocolate to France by Louis XIV's bride, the Spanish princess Maria Teresa, in the 1660s. She loved her daily sip of hot chocolate and someone in the palace kitchen had the brilliant idea to create a pretty little morsel from the cooled cocoa. (You can read more about that here.) So while sweets have long been a part of the human diet and have been served in a variety of ways (some, like syllabubs and possets, even requiring specially designed vessels), the advent and popularity of small candies created an entirely new need: where to store your bonbons! Not to fear, manufacturers responded by creating pretty dishes for tabletops, as well as hinged containers that could slip easily into pockets and purses. And with that, the bonbonnière was born. Here now, a little visual history of their development:


Bonbon dish, Doccia manufactory (Florence, Italy), 1750-55, hard-paste porcelain, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City


Bonbonnière in the form of a pug’s head (Continental, possibly German), c. 1755, enamel on copper with hand-painted decoration; gilded-metal mount, The Philadelphia Museum of Art


Bonbon dish, Meissen Porcelain Manufactory (Germany), 1760, porcelain, Cooper–Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum, New York City


Box and cover, Spode (Stoke, England), c. 1820, porcelain, Victoria & Albert Museum, London


Bonbonnière and scent bottle in the form of a female bust, Made by Samson porcelain factory (Paris, France), late-18th or early-19th century, enamel on copper with hand-painted decoration and brass mounts, The
Philadelphia Museum of Art


Ambassador bonbonnière and cover, designed by Oswald Haerdtl for J. & L. Lobmeyr (Vienna, Austria),  1926, mold-blown glass, Cooper–Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum, New York City


Bonbon dish, designed by Robert H. Ramp for Reed & Barton (Taunton, Massachusetts), silver, 1950, Dallas Museum of Art


Prototype candy dish by Richard Meier, 1983, silver plate, The Modern Archive


Alligator candy dish (Amsterdam, The Netherlands), c. 2012, porcelain, Piselli Projects