View allAll Photos Tagged servingdish
11th September 2019:
What a delicious surprise. Graham came home from doing the shopping with a *very* large pack of fresh prawns, that needed cooking today.
I'm quite certain that we won't get through them all, but at least we can freeze them for another day.
Served up in one of the best Limoges serving bowls - the biggest one we have and photographed outside in the drizzle for the best light!
Here's a link to the "2020 one photo each day" Group if you want to sign up for the first time, or for another year:
www.flickr.com/groups/2020_one_photo_each_day/
Better viewed large and thank you for your favourites. :O)
The design on one of our Limoges dinner service serving dishes.
It measures approx: 2.54 x 1.27 cm.
Better viewed large and thank you for your favourites.
This time we have been given, away from real human contact (the FaceTime is a consolation prize), has let my mind wander to decades ago when I first met my paternal grandmother in the USA. I was a newly minted 21 year old and my grandmother gave me this soup tureen and serving bowl as a gift. It has managed to remain unbroken all these decades and are treasured items.
Maybe I will write about this so that my 7 grandchildren can know their roots. Stay tuned ..,,,
Izzy has recently discovered that she can get onto the top of the kitchen cupboard. The oven dish was what Rufus came with, he apparently had his food served in it.....??
As it's far too nice for a dog bowl we use it as a serving dish when we need a big one.
I've also waited a long time to catch her actually curled up in there!
Thank you for your favourites. :O)
10th February 2020:
When I was looking for something to take for the Macro Mondays theme, I decided on the Limoges china, so went into the sideboard to get one of the serving dishes out.
Zut and or a lot of very rude words, one of them has broken, but we have no idea when or how it happened.
Now we need someone with a very steady hand to stick it back together. No chance of finding a replacement. :0(
It's also World Plimsoll Day.
Better viewed large and thank you for your favourites.
l© All Rights Reserved Please don't use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit permission
see on my fluidr stream: www.fluidr.com/photos/msdonnalee or click to view on flickr black
de young musuem
san francisco, california
Prepared by Graham me. Yes I found the kitchen and prepared our treat. Now, now, don't faint anyone.
Not the best photo I've taken of something we've had to eat, but the stress of preparing it was obviously just too much!! Plenty left for tomorrow evening and Tuesday.
All related to this photo, which was going to be my photo for today before I decided to make us a pudding:
www.flickr.com/photos/44506883@N04/29653168302
Maybe better viewed large, not sure.
www.flickr.com/groups/2016_one_photo_each_day/
Thank you for your favourites. :O)
Two dishes from our dinner serves, which was a house warming present from a friend.
Better viewed large and thank you for your favourites.
The World Renowned Frazier Studio
Elgin, Illinois - Near 42.0109, -88.3477
February 14, 2022
COPYRIGHT 2022 by JimFrazier All Rights Reserved. This may NOT be used for ANY reason without written consent from Jim Frazier.
220214cz7-70351366x768
Prepared by Graham me. Yes I found the kitchen and prepared our treat. Now, now, don't faint anyone!!
Two layers of sponge cake slices (another 'gift' from our friends) with the pears sliced up over the top of them and then on with the custard.
Maybe better viewed large, not sure.
Thank you for your favourites. :O)
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however, we have followed Lettice from her home to just a short distance away. Still in Mayfair, she is visiting Asprey* in Bond Street: jewellers to the royal family, silversmiths and goldsmiths and suppliers of luxury goods. With Dickie Channon and Margot de Virre’s engagement announced, Lettice is charged with finding a wedding gift not only of her own, but for her parents to send to the home of Margot’s parents. Leaving the busy shopping strip populated by suited men on their way to their offices and clubs and smartly dressed ladies enjoying a day of shopping, Lettice slips in through the beautiful full length glass doors of Asprey’s into the cossetted comfort of the light filled luxury shop. Leaving the bustle of London behind her with the quiet click of the doors closing, she breathes in the gentle waft of expensive perfume and leather.
“Ah! Miss Chetwynd!” a mature frock coated shop walker greets Lettice with a broad smile. “How do you do.”
Lettice greets the stout, smartly dressed man with the familiarity of the regular client that she is. “How do you do, Crosbie,” she addresses him as she does her family butler.
“And to what do we owe this great pleasure of your visit, Miss Chetwynd?” Mr. Crosbie asks obsequiously, clasping his glove clad hands together behind his back. “A finishing touch for one of your latest interiors, perhaps? I have some lovely silver tea services just in from our silversmiths.”
Lettice looks distractedly around the beautiful mahogany display cabinets filled with leather dressing cases and travel de necessaires, candelabras, coffee and tea services.
“Not today, Crosbie,” she flashes him one of her winning smiles, not fooled for a moment by the portly floor walker’s flattery and toady behaviour.
Lettice knows that when she walks into Asprey’s that she is a valued customer because of how much money she spends there and how much influence she has on others who also patronise the shop. Her mind slips back to her first visit to Asprey as a teenager before the war, when she accompanied her mother who was looking to buy some new jewellery for a court levee. The frock coated staff fawned over Viscountess Wrexham and her daughter noticed for the first time the deference paid not only to her mother, but to her as well as a member of a family held in such high esteem and a future patron of the shop.
“A new travel de necessaire for your next country house soirée, perhaps?” Mr. Crosbie asks attentively. “Or maybe some new pearls for the Season?”
“No, nothing like that today, Crosbie,” Lettice replies.
“Please,” Mr. Crosbie indicates with a sweeping gesture to a small mahogany Queen Anne style table decorated with a white vase filled with fragrant rose blooms, flanked by two dainty velvet seated salon chairs. “Some tea perhaps, Miss Chetwynd?”
“Oh Crosbie,” she sighs, sinking into one of the chairs, crossing her legs elegantly and propping her black handled green parasol against her thigh. “You are a brick!”
The older manager looks over and catches the eye of a junior member of staff to whom he nods almost imperceptibly. The younger man quietly slips away from behind a counter of silver salvers and trays and disappears into the back of the showroom.
“Then,” Mr. Crosbie asks, taking his place adjunct to Lettice. “What is your pleasure today, Miss Chetwynd?”
Lettice’s eyes the glittering shelves again. Champagne buckets, strawberry dishes, biscuit barrels, lidded chafing dishes, trophies and meat covers all polished to a gleaming sheen wink and glow against their mahogany housings or in glass display cases, under the morning light from the street outside and diffused light from crystal chandeliers overhead.
“Well, you would no doubt have read in The Times that my friends Margot de Virre and Richard Channon have recently become engaged.”
Crosbie’s gleaming brown eyes lift towards the ceiling and his mouth falls open ever so slightly as he considers the names of all the newly engaged couples of note announced in the London newspapers. “The Marquess of Taunton’s son and Lord de Virre’s daughter,” he remarks thoughtfully. “Yes, I did see that. Ah!”
The younger shop walker arrives with a silver tray laden with a sleek teapot, sugar bowl, milk jug, a cup and saucer and a selection of biscuits on a plate. He carefully places the tray on the table, next to Lettice’s crocodile skin handbag. Mr. Crosbie nods ever so slightly at the younger man and he retreats, walking quietly back across the carpeted floor.
“So, you see my dilemma Crosbie,” Lettice says. “I need a wedding gift.”
“Well, Miss Chetwynd,” the older man says in an assuring tone. “You aren’t the first person to visit Asprey to purchase a wedding gift for them.” He pauses. “However we have so many lovely things to choose from, that I feel sure we shall find the perfect gift from you.”
“Oh it isn’t just for me, Crosbie,” Lettice replies apologetically. “I also need a wedding gift for my parents.”
“Ah! How is his Lordship?” Mr. Crosbie asks. “And her Ladyship?”
“Quite well thank you, Crosbie,” Lettice states. “However, they are too ensconced in Wiltshire to come to London to select their own gift.”
“Well, I’m sure we can find a suitable gift for them too, Miss Chetwynd.” He smiles politely. “Shall I pour?”
“Oh, you are a brick, Crosbie!” Lettice says. “Yes please.”
As he pours, Mr. Crosbie artfully makes sure that the sleek body of the teapot and its elegant spout catches the light and the attention of his customer.
“That’s a lovely teapot, Crosbie,” Lettice remarks thoughtfully.
“It’s one of the new tea services we have just received from our silversmiths.” He adds hopefully, “It is Georgian Revival Moderne: very fashionable Miss Chetwynd. Will you take milk and sugar?”
“Yes, thank you, Crosbie. Oh, and the crockery?”
“Also in a new and very fashionable line, Miss Chetwynd.” Mr. Crosbie adds with delight that Lettice has noticed it. “Do have a chocolate or a vanilla Bourbon biscuit.”
“Thank you, Crosbie.” She picks up a chocolate cream Huntley and Palmer’s biscuit and munches daintily on it. After finishing her mouthful and taking a sip of tea she continues, “Now. I want something different. Something special for two of my closest friends: not just a tea set.” Crosbie’s face falls slightly at her words. “Anyone can give a tea set.”
“Indeed, Miss Chetwynd.” Mr. Crosbie acquiesces with a slight lilt of disappointment.
“No!” Lettice continues. “I want something, different. The Marquess is giving the newlyweds a house near Penzance as a country retreat. I am told it is a Regency house. I’d like to give them something suitable for there. What can you show me, Crosbie?”
The older man’s eyes light up again. “Ah! Well, Asprey’s do have a few rather lovely pieces that might suit. If I could beg your indulgence, Miss Chetwynd.”
Lettice nods in agreement as the man moves purposefully across the red carpeted floor to the mahogany display shelves where he fetches several pieces. She continues to enjoy the Bourbon biscuits and her tea whilst he searches for potential presents. Returning, he places two lidded boxes and a tray on the table before her.
“A Regency Revival letter tray, and two Georgian Revival tea caddies, Miss Chetwynd.” Mr. Crosbie says soothingly with a flourish of his hands worthy of a magician having produced a rabbit from a hat.
Lettice scrutinises each, carefully picking them up and considering them as gifts. Across the table from her, Mr. Crosbie quietly holds his breath as he watches, clutching his glove glad hands together beneath the table’s surface.
“Yes,” Lettice says at length. “Yes, I think the larger of the tea caddies, Crosbie.”
“Very good, Miss Chetwynd.” Mr. Crosbie enthuses. “And for your parents?”
“Oh, the tea service, definitely.” she replies with a wry smile. “They are very good at giving tea sets.”
“Very good, Miss Chetwynd. I’ll have the accounts drawn out. Shall I have the tea service and the tea caddy sent directly to Lord and Lady de Virre with a small note of compliments from you and the Viscount?"
“The tea set, yes,” Lettice says. “But the tea caddy, no. Please have that sent to me.”
“Certainly Miss Chetwynd. I can have it delivered to you this afternoon, if that suits.”
“Splendid Crosbie,” Lettice smiles and sighs, relieved that she has the perfect wedding gift for her friends. Finishing her tea, she grasps her parasol and handbag and prepares to leave. Then, as an after thought she adds, “Oh, and have another of those tea services sent to me as well.” She looks again at the sleek teapot glinting on the tray. “I quite like the way the pot pours.”
“Yes, Miss Chetwynd!” Mr. Crosbie says with undisguised pleasure.
*Founded in 1781 as a silk printing business by William Asprey, Asprey soon became a luxury emporium. In 1847 the business moved to their present premises at 167 Bond Street, where they advertised 'articles of exclusive design and high quality, whether for personal adornment or personal accompaniment and to endow with richness and beauty the table and homes of people of refinement and discernment’. In 1862 Asprey received a Royal Warrant from Queen Victoria. They received a second Royal Warrant from the Future Edward VII in 1889. Asprey has a tradition of producing jewellery inspired by the blooms found in English gardens and Woodland Flora. Over the decades jewelled interpretations of flowers have evolved to include Daisy, Woodland and sunflower collections. They have their own special cut of diamond and produce leather goods, silver and gold pieces, trophies and leatherbound books, both old and new. They also produce accessories for playing polo. In 1997, Asprey produced the Heart of the Ocean necklace worn in the motion picture blockbuster, ‘Titanic’.
This luxury goods shop floor with all its silver may appear real to you, however it is fashioned entirely of 1:12 miniatures from my collection. Some of the items in this tableaux are amongst the very first pieces I ever received as a young child.
Fun things to look for in this tableaux include:
The panoply of silver items that full the shelves and cabinets were once commonplace items in both upper and middle-class households. These items include candelabras, candlesticks, a biscuit barrel, an egg cruet set, a lidded muffin dish, a punch bowl, a toast rack, vases, trophies, coffee sets, tea sets, a strawberry dish, lidded chafing and serving dishes, meat covers, gravy boats, a water jug, an ice bucket, a sweetmeat dish, silver trays and salvers, and tea caddies. Almost all of the silver pieces in this scene are exclusively made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The only pieces not made by them are the square tray and tea service in the foreground, and the three prong Arts and Crafts style candelabra which sits atop a stand in front of the mahogany cases. The square tray and tea service in the foreground, which come from Smallskale Miniatures in the United Kingdom. The three prong candelabra is an artisan piece of sterling silver made in Berlin and is actually only 3 centimetres in height and 3 centimetres in width.
The Queen Anne table and two chairs in the foreground were amongst the first miniatures I was ever given as a child. They were birthday presents given to me when I was seven years old.
Lettice’s snakeskin handbag with its gold clasp and chain comes from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniature Shop in the United Kingdom. Lettice’s umbrella also comes from Smallskale Miniatures in the United Kingdom.
The Art Deco style teacup, saucer and plate come from an EBay stockist of miniatures, whilst the tiny chocolate and vanilla Bourbon biscuits from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering in the United Kingdom. They specialise in miniature foods, and the array of items they have along with the fine and realistic detail of their hand made pieces is quite amazing!
The vase of roses on the Queen Anne table is beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium.
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today we are in Lettice’s chic, dining room, which stands adjunct to her equally stylish drawing room. She has decorated it in a restrained Art Deco style with a smattering of antique pieces including a rather fine Chippendale cabinet.
Lettice is hosting a luncheon for her future sister-in-law Arabella Tyrwhitt who will soon marry her eldest brother, Leslie. As Arabella has no sisters, and her mother is too unwell at present to travel up to London from Wiltshire, Lettice has taken it upon herself to help Arabella shop and select a suitable trousseau. So, she has brought her to London to stay in Cavendish Mews, rather than opening up the Tyrwhitt’s Georgian townhouse in Curzon Street for a week, so from there she can take Arabella shopping in all the best shops in the West End, and take her to her old childhood chum and best friend Gerald Bruton’s couturier in Grosvenor Street for her wedding dress. Lettice has invited a few of her friends from her Embassy Club coterie whom Arabella met there the other night. Lettice has asked her best girlfriend, the recently married Margot Channon and one of her other dear friends Minnie Palmerston. As both ladies are married, Lettice is hoping they may be able to shed some light on what life is like as a married woman with Arabella whilst also sharing in an afternoon of delicious food and delightful gossip.
Now luncheon is over, and the ladies have adjourned to Lettice’s drawing room where they carry on their high spirited conversations over digestives, and raucous laughter echoes across into the dining room where Edith, Lettice’s maid, is putting some of the glassware and fine china used at luncheon back into the Chippendale cabinet where they belong after having washed them. A consummate maid, Edith is very discreet and unlike other domestics she isn’t particularly interested in gossip, so she doesn’t pay attention to the conversations being had in the drawing room as she quietly stacks the gilded Art Deco patterned dinner plates onto the second shelf of the cabinet. She hums ‘Toot Toot Tootsie’* to herself as she does so. She smiles as she does, thinking of how she and her beau Frank Leadbetter danced cheek to cheek at the Hammersmith Palais** to the tune on her day off last Sunday, so she doesn’t notice the approach of a pair of footsteps.
“Excuse me, Edith,” Margot begins.
Edith releases a startled gasp as she leaps into the air in fright, almost dropping the silver gravy boat in her hands as she does. “Oh Miss de Virre, err, I mean, Mrs. Channon.” Edith is still adjusting, like most everyone else, to Margot’s newly married status. She grasps at her chest as she breathes heavily. “You didn’t half scare me!”
“Oh, I’m sorry Edith. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Margot says kindly, stepping back slightly on her gold louis heel.
Edith looks at her mistress’ best lady friend. She is very beautiful with dark eyes and dark hair framing her pale face. Her hair is swept into a smart chignon at the nape of her neck where it is held in place by an ornate tortoiseshell comb. She is dressed in an afternoon frock of burnt orange silk de chiné with a boat neckline and a handkerchief hemline that swishes softly around her figure when she moves. Edith wonders if it was made by their friend Gerald Bruton the couturier. Edith remembers he made Margot’s wedding dress and several other pieces of her trousseau. The colour of the gown is enhanced by her dark hair and by a long bright green bugle bead necklace that cascades down the front of it and her matching chandelier earrings that swing and tremble from her dainty lobes.
“Can I help you, Mrs. Channon?” Edith asks. “Was everything at luncheon to your satisfaction?”
“Oh quite! Quite, Edith. Your roast was delicious, as were the tarts for dessert.” Margot falls silent but doesn’t turn or attempt to walk away.
“Is there something you need?” Edith queries.
“Actually, there is, Edith.” Margot says after a moment. She turns and looks over her left shoulder, down the length of the dining room into the drawing room where Lettice and Minnie are entertaining Bella with an amusing story about their escapades as they sip their digestives. She turns back to the maid. “May I ask for your discretion?”
“Of course, Mrs. Channon.”
“Good. Because I don’t want Minnie to hear us, so I’ll be quick.” Margot pronounces lowering her voice.
“Very good Mrs. Channon.” She moves the right-hand door of the Chippendale cabinet so that it obscures the view of Lettice, Minnie and Bella, and affords the two ladies a modicum of privacy behind it. “That’s better.” she says. “Now, how can I help?”
“You know how Dickie… err, Mr. Channon and I have moved around the corner from here and taken a flat in Hill Street.”
“Yes Mrs. Channon.”
“Well, you see, I need a competent maid to come and manage my household. It’s all in a bit of a muddle. I’ve borrowed one of Mummy’s maids, Pegeen, but she really isn’t suitable.” Margot shakes her head sadly as she toys with the rings on her fingers abstractedly.
Edith’s eyes grow wide, and her mouth starts to gape with incredulity as she takes a sharp intake of breath after hearing Margot’s words.
“Oh no! No, Edith!” Margot hisses. “You misunderstand me.” She shakes her head, making the chandelier earrings swing about, catching and reflecting the light from the pendant light overhead prettily. “I’d never try and poach you from Lettice.” She raises her elegantly manicured hands in defence. “Lettice is one of my oldest and dearest friends. I’d never be so beastly as to steal you away from her.”
Edith lets out a sigh of relief as she cradles the silver gravy boat in her arms.
“No,” Margot continues in an assuring tone. “I just thought, well, that you might know of someone looking for a position. Lettice told me that you weren’t very happy in your last position, and I wondered whether perhaps there might have been others you’ve worked with who might be dissatisfied with their current employer.”
Edith turns away from Margot and places the gleaming gravy boat on the second shelf of the Chippendale cabinet next to a salt shaker. She runs her finger along its foot thoughtfully and smiles to herself before turning back around again to see Margot’s expectant face.
“As it happens, I do know of someone, Mrs. Channon.” the maid replies confidently. “Who is currently looking for a new position in these parts.”
“Oh hoorah!” Margot clasps her hands. “Well, I don’t really know how this is done, Edith. Can you give me her details? Or perhaps if I give you mine? You could pass them on for me?”
“Now just wait a moment, Mrs. Channon.” Edith cautions her, holding up her careworn palms. “Not quite so fast, if you please. This is my very good friend, Hilda. I’ll not recommend anything to her until you’ve given me a few more specifics.”
“Of course, Edith.” Margot sighs. “What would you like to know?”
“Firstly, this is a live-in position, isn’t it?”
“Oh yes Edith. The flat has a lovely little maid’s bedroom off the kitchen, just like here.”
“And your flat is how big?” Edith asks.
“Well, it’s a trifle bigger than here, as there are two of us.”
“Yes?”
“There is a drawing room and dining room, obviously. It has two bedrooms like here, but the second one is a guest bedroom so she wouldn’t have to clean it every week, just air and clean it before we have house guests.”
“And how often is that?”
“Well, I don’t really know.” Margot considers. “We haven’t been there all that long, but I don’t suppose it will all that often. There are two dressing rooms, oh, and there’s Mr. Channon’s study as well.”
“And would my friend be required to cook for you, like I do for Miss Lettice?”
“Well, Mr. Channon and I dine out quite a lot. We’re barely home really. We also have our little house in Cornwall where we will spend some time once Lettice has finished redecorating, so breakfasts for both of us when we are home, the occasional luncheon and dinner.”
“What about sewing?”
“Sewing, Edith?” Margot gazes at Edith, a look of confusion on her face. “I need a maid, not a lady’s maid.”
“Will my friend be required to do any mending of linens, embroidery or the like.” Edith clarifies.
Margot looks perplexed. “I shouldn’t think so, Edith. If anything like that needs doing, I’ll get one of Dickie… er, Mr. Cannon’s parent’s maids to do it.”
“That’s good because Hilda doesn’t sew. Her mother didn’t like sewing, so she never learnt like I did. I tried to teach her a few basic skills, but she’s got no real aptitude for it.”
“I have the laundry sent out, like you do here, and I’ve engaged Mrs. Boothby to come twice a week to do the harder jobs.”
“Very good Mrs. Channon.” Edith acknowledges coolly, not giving away her thrill that this might be the perfect job for her friend Hilda to get her away from the mean Mrs. Plaistow.
“And I’ll happily pay a wage commensurate to your own, Edith.”
“Miss Lettice doesn’t pay me board wages*** when she goes away for weekends in the country, only at Christmas time.”
“Oh, I don’t even know what board wages are, Edith.” Margot assures the maid with a shrug of her shoulders.
Edith ruminates for a moment, her gaze drifting around the dining room: anywhere but Margot’s anxious face.
“If you don’t mind me asking, Mrs. Channon, if this is such a splendid position, and if you’re such a good mistress, why isn’t this Pegeen you’ve got working for you currently, suitable?” Edith glances at the inside of the black japanned door of the Chippendale cabinet, as if she can see Lettice, Minnie and Bella through it. She lowers her voice to even more of a whisper. “And why don’t you want Mrs. Palmerston knowing you’re looking for a new maid?”
“Well, you saw Minnie at luncheon today.” Margot replies. “She is rather,” She chews the inside of her cheek as she considers what adjective to use to describe Minnie Palmerston. “Highly strung shall we say.”
“Yes, I did notice that, Mrs. Channon.” Edith replies with a quick nod of acknowledgement.
“Well, her histrionics mean that she has some difficulty keeping maids for any length of time. I don’t want her to pilfer and squander any potential candidates you might send my way. After all, you really are such a brick, Edith.” Margot reaches out and places a hand on Edith’s forearm, which the maid finds overfamiliar and rather discomforting. “I’m sure anyone whom you recommend to me would be a brick too.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Channon.” Edith smiles proudly, blushing at the compliment and lowering her gaze demurely. “And why is Pegeen not a suitable candidate?”
“Well, for a start she is my mother’s maid, and I only have Pegeen under a grace-and-favour arrangement for a short time.” She pauses.
“And?” Edith presses her for her unfinished thoughts.
“And I caught her going through Mr. Channon’s desk drawers.’ Margot sighs. “I don’t want a prying maid. I also found her trying on my dresses twice and I caught a definite note of my La Jacinthe**** scent on her yesterday. I want a maid I can trust, like Lettice trusts you. Pegeen is definitely not to be trusted.”
Edith takes only a moment to decide whether this opportunity is good enough to pass on to Hilda.
“If you’d please supply me with your details, Mrs. Channon, I’ll be sure to pass them on to my friend Hilda. She can then choose if she wishes to pursue your offer of employment. That’s how it’s done.”
“Oh Edith!” Margot exclaims. “Lettice is right! You really are such a brick!”
“I don’t know what you mean, Mrs. Channon.” Edith demurs. “Now, hadn’t you best go back to the rest of the company before you are missed?”
“Oh yes, you’re right Edith.” Margot agrees, and so saying, she turns on her heel and walks away.
Edith carefully closes the beautifully decorated Chippendale cabinet with its ornate hinges and walks towards the green baize doors that lead back into the service area of the flat, barely able to contain her excitement. Only last week as they stood in Mrs. Minkin’s haberdashery shop, Hilda was complaining about how awful it was working under Mrs. Plaistow and how she was looking for a new position. Pushing open the doors and slipping through it she is thrilled that she may have the solution to her dear friend’s problems.
*Toot Toot Tootsie (Goobye) was one of the most popular songs of 1922, written by Gus Kahn, Ernie Erdman and Dan Russo, made popular by Al Jolson.
**The Hammersmith Palais de Danse, in its last years simply named Hammersmith Palais, was a dance hall and entertainment venue in Hammersmith, London, England that operated from 1919 until 2007. It was the first palais de danse to be built in Britain.
***Board wages were monies paid in lieu of meals and were paid in addition to a servant’s normal salary. Often servants were paid board wages when their employer went on holiday, or to London for the season, leaving them behind with no cook t prepare their meals. Some employers paid their servants fair board wages, however most didn’t, and servants often found themselves out of pocket fending for themselves, rather than having meals provided within the household.
****La Jacinthe is a scent created by French perfumier François Coty that was launched in 1914. With a fragrance of hyacinth as the name suggests, it was promoted as being "A tribute to stately radiant beauty that recalls the goddesses of Ancient Greece - the scent of classic hyacinths." It ceased production around 1933
This elegant domestic scene may not be all you consider it to be, for it is made up entirely with pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection, including pieces from my teenage years.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
Made by high-end miniature manufacturer, J.B.M. the black japanned Chippendale cabinet has been decorated with chinoiserie designs. It also features very ornate metalwork hinges and locks. The Chippendale black japanned chairs are also made by J. B. M.
The top shelf features white wine glasses all of which are artisan pieces, spun from real glass, that I acquired as a teenager from a high street shop that specialised in dolls and doll house miniatures. The red wine glasses on the right are also hand spun glass pieces from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The Georgian water jug between the glasses comes from Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces.
The middle shelf contains pieces of Lettice’s gilt edged dinner set featuring highly stylised blue Art Deco patterns. The gravy boat in the middle, like the water jug above, comes from Warwick Miniatures in Ireland.
The linen on the bottom shelf has been trimmed by hand with some dainty pieces of lace and was made for me by a miniature artisan sewer in Sydney.
The paintings on the walls are 1:12 artisan pieces made by Amber’s Miniatures in the United States. The geometric Art Deco wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.
10th October 2018:
Graham found these chocolate eggs at the supermarket this morning. As they were almost being given away he bought a packet.
What we couldn't work out was whether they were leftovers from last Easter, or a very early supply for next year!
Served up in one of our posh serving dishes with the background painted out.
*Also a reminder that October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Get checked girls, oh and you guys out there, men can get it too.*
Better viewed large and thank you for your favourites. :O)
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Two of Lettice’s Embassy Club coterie of bright young things are getting married: Dickie Channon, eldest surviving son of the Marquess of Taunton, and Margot de Virre, only daughter of Lord Charles and Lady Lucie de Virre. Lettice is hosting an exclusive buffet supper party in their honour this evening, which is turning out to be one of the events of the 1921 London Season. Over the last few days, Lettice’s flat has been in upheaval as Edith. Lettice’s maid, and Lettice’s charwoman* Mrs. Boothby have been cleaning the flat thoroughly in preparation for the occasion. Earlier today with the help of a few hired men they moved some of the furnishings in Lettice’s drawing room into the spare bedroom to make space for the hired dance band and for the guests to dance and mingle. Edith’s preserve of the kitchen has been overrun by delivery men, florists and caterers. Yet it has finally all fallen into place perfectly just as a red and white striped marquee is erected by Gunter and Company** over the entrance and the pavement outside.
Now we find ourselves in Lettice’s dining room, which has become the focal point for half the party guests as her dining table is given over to a magnificent buffet created by Harrods catering, whilst Dickie stands at one corner, thoroughly enjoying playing the part of barman as he makes cocktails for all his friends.
Lettice sighs with satisfaction as she looks around the drawing room and dining room of her flat. Both rooms have a golden glow about them created by a mixture of electric light and candlelight and the fug of cigarette smoke. The rooms are populated with London society’s glittering young people, nicknamed “bright young things” by the newspapers. Men in white tie and tails with a smattering of daring souls wearing dinner jackets chatter animatedly and dance with ladies in beautifully coloured evening gowns with loose bodices, sashes and irregular and handkerchief hems. Jewels wink at throats, on fingers, dangling from ears and in carefully coiffed and finger waved hair, illuminated by the brilliant lighting. Bugle beads glitter as gowns gently wash about the figures of their wearers as they move. Everywhere gay chatter about the Season and the upcoming wedding of Margot and Dickie fills the air, the joyous sound mixing with the lively jazz quartet who play syncopated tunes lustily in a corner of Lettice’s drawing room.
“Dubonnet and gin?” Dickie asks Lettice as she stands by the buffet and picks up a biscuit lightly smeared with salmon mousse.
“Oh you are a brick, Dickie!” Lettice enthuses, popping the dainty morsel into her mouth. Accepting the reddish gold cocktail from him she adds, “But really, this is your party. You should be out there, socialising with Margot, not standing here making cocktails for everyone.”
“Why should I bother going out there to socialise,” he waves his hand across the crowded room to the edge of the makeshift dancefloor where his fiancée stands in a beautiful ankle length silver georgette gown studded in silver sequins, surrounded by a small clutch of equally elegant young guests. “When they all have to come to me for drinks.”
“Ahhh,” Lettice titters as she sips her cocktail. “So there is method in your madness, Dickie.”
“Isn’t there always, Lettice?” he laughs. “Now, you are technically hostess of this bash. Go out there and dazzle everyone.” Then he stops and adds, “Well, not quite everyone.” And he blows a kiss to his fiancée whose eye he has caught from across the crowded room.
“Alright Dickie,” Lettice laughs and she saunters off into the crowd, pausing to smile and say hullo and accept the compliments of her many guests.
Suddenly she spots a beautiful woman in a pale pink beaded gown with dark finger waved hair framing her peaches and cream complexion standing docilely by the dancefloor watching the stream of passing couples dancing past in each other’s arms. She seems distant and remote, even a little sad, and far removed from the frenetic energy and jolly bonhomie about her. Excusing herself from the couple who are addressing her, Lettice slips over to her.
“Hullo Elizabeth***!” Lettice embraces her warmly. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to come along tonight considering everything that’s happened.”
“I wasn’t sure myself, Lettice.” Elizabeth replies, a warm smile revealing a slightly crooked set of teeth. “But I couldn’t let Dickie and Margot down.” Then she adds quickly as an afterthought, “Or you, darling Lettice.”
“Well, I’m glad you’ve come. How are you feeling?”
“A little battered and bruised emotionally.” Elizabeth admits with a lilt of sadness. “But one mustn’t complain.”
“I still don’t understand why you said no to his marriage proposal. I thought you loved Bertie****.”
“I did.” Elizabeth remarks before correcting herself. “I do! But I’m afraid that if I said yes to him, I’d never, never again be able to be free to think, speak and act as I feel I really ought to. Besides,” she adds conspiratorially, glancing about her before continuing. “His mother terrifies me.”
“She terrifies all of us,” Lettice laughs lighty as she waves her hand gaily about the room. “Now, what you need to pick you up and forget your heartache is one of these.” She points to the glass in her hand.
“What is it?” Elizabeth asks, eyeing Lettice’s glass and sniffing its contents with suspicion.
“A Dubonnet and gin. Dickie will make you one. Go and ask him.” Lettice grasps Elizabeth by the shoulder and sends her toddling across to Dickie as he stands behind a line of bottles and a beautiful arrangement of roses.
“Lettice!” Margot suddenly calls from across the room, beckoning her over enthusiastically. “Lettice, darling!”
Squeezing between small clusters of well-dressed guests drinking and eating or leaving the dance floor, Lettice makes her way over to her friend.
“Hullo Margot, darling! Are you having a fabulous time?”
“Fabulous isn’t enough of a word to describe it, darling!” she replies with eyes shimmering with excitement and joy. “Such a thrilling bash! I can’t thank you enough!”
“Yes Lettice,” a deep male voice adds from behind her. “You certainly do know how to throw a party!”
“Lord de Virre!” Lettice exclaims, spinning around. “Oh! I didn’t know you’d arrived. Now, who can I introduce you to?”
“No-one my dear. My beautiful daughter has been doing an ample job of introducing me to so many people that already this old man cannot remember who is whom.”
“Never old!” Lettice scolds, hitting his arm playfully as she curls her own through the crook in his. “Then if I can’t introduce to anyone, perhaps I can entreat you into eating something.”
“Now that I won’t refuse, Lettice.”
Lettice and Margot guide Lord de Virre across the crowded dining room to the buffet table weighed down with delicious savoury petit fours, vol-au-vents, caviar, dips, cheese and pâte and pasties. Glasses full, partially drained and empty are scattered amidst the silver trays and china plates.
“Champagne, Sir?” Dickie calls out.
“Good show Dickie!” laughs Lord de Virre over the noise of the party. “Playing barman tonight, are we?”
“It’s the best role to play at a party, Sir.” He passes Lord de Virre a flute of sparkling champagne poured from the bottle wedged into a silver ice bucket.
Behind him Lettice spies Elizabeth with a Dubonnet and gin in her glove clad hand. Lettice catches her eye and discreetly raises her glass, which Elizabeth returns with a gentle smile.
“Now Lettice, darling,” Margot enthuses as she selects a dainty petit four. “Daddy has just reminded me of an idea we had a few weeks ago, which I meant to ask you about, but between all Gerald’s dress fittings and other arrangements for the wedding,” She flaps her hand about, the diamonds in her engagement ring sparkling in the light. “Well, I completely forgot.”
Lettice tries not to smile as she feels the gentlest of squeezes from Lord de Virre’s arm and remembers the conversation that she and he had some weeks ago in his study. “What is it?” She glances between Margot and her father, pretending not to know what is coming.
“Well, Daddy suggested… I mean… I was wondering…”
“Yes, Margot darling?”
“Well, you know how the Marquess is giving us that house in Cornwall?”
“Yes! Chi an… an…?”
“Chi an Treth!” Dickie calls out helpfully.
“Yes!” Margot concurs. “Beach House! Well, it hasn’t been lived in for ever such a long time, and it’s a bit old fashioned. Daddy is kindly organising for it to be electrified, re-plumbed and have it connected to the Penzance telephone exchange for us.” Margot pauses. “And… well he and… we… that is to say that I thought…”
“Yes?” Lettice coaxes with lowered lids as she takes a gentle sip of her Dubonnet and gin.
“Well, we… Dickie and I that is… well we rather hoped that you might consider fixing up a couple of rooms for us. Would you? I would just so dearly love a room or two decorated by you! Dickie even thinks that his father can pull some strings and get you an article in Country Life if you do?”
“Oh Margot!” Lettice exclaims, releasing her grip on Lord de Virre and depositing her glass on the table she flings her arms about her friend’s neck. “I’d love to!”
Lettice suddenly feels a gentle poking of fingers into the small of her back. Letting go of Margot, she stands back and looks at her, remembering the lines Lord de Virre asked her to come up with and rehearse upon agreeing to Margot’s request.
“Of course, I can’t do it straight away, you understand. You know I’m currently mid-way through Miss Ward’s flat in Pimlico.”
“Oh that’s alright,” Margot beams. “The modernisation isn’t finished yet, so we won’t even be going down there to inspect the place until after our honeymoon.”
Lettice feels Lord de Virre’s prodding in her back again.
“And I won’t do it for free, Margot. I have already given you a wedding gift. I’m a businesswoman now.”
“Oh, well that’s just the thing,” Margot exclaims, clasping her hands in delight. “Daddy has kindly agreed to pay for it all.”
Lettice looks up at Lord de Virre. He looks back at her seriously, but she can see a smile tweaking the edges of his mouth, trying to create a cheeky smile. She tries to keep up the pretence that she didn’t already know that Margot was going to ask her to redecorate for her and Dickie as she says, “Really Lord de Virre? All of it? That’s very generous of you.”
“Not a bit of it, Lettice. This is a good, sound business transaction. You may send your quotes to me for consideration,” He ennunciates the last word carefully to stress its importance, more for Margot’s sake than Lettice’s. “Once you have seen the rooms as they are now.”
“Thank you Lord de Virre,” Lettice replies. “Well Margot, I suppose that settles it then!”
“Oh Dickie!” Margot exclaims, scuttling over to her fiancée. “She said yes!”
“Who did, darling?” Dickie asks as he adds crème de menthe to colour his Fallen Angel cocktail a pale green.
“What do you mean, who?” Margot hits his arm jokingly as she sways excitedly from side to side. “Lettice of course!” She looks back over to her friend standing alongside her father. “She’s agreed to decorate for us.”
“Oh, jolly good show!” Dickie smiles. “Thanks awfully Lettice, darling! Now you’re the brick!”
“Always Dickie!” Lettice laughs back.
“Listen Dickie!” Margot gasps. “The band is playing ‘Dancing Time’*****! Come away from the bar and dance with me.”
“You’d best not refuse her, my boy!” teases Lord de Virre. “It’s madness if you try. I never could!”
The happily engaged couple hurry across the room, hand in hand, slipping between clusters of guests before disappearing into the crowd on the dancefloor as the music from the band soars above the burble of the crowd and the clink of glasses.
“So, we finally have an official arrangement, Miss Chetwynd?” Lord de Virre says discreetly as he raises his glass towards Lettice.
“I think we do, Lord de Virre.” Lettice smiles and clinks her glass with his as they toast their arrangement formally. “Your offer is simply too good to refuse.”
*A charwoman, chargirl, or char, jokingly charlady, is an old-fashioned occupational term, referring to a paid part-time worker who comes into a house or other building to clean it for a few hours of a day or week, as opposed to a maid, who usually lives as part of the household within the structure of domestic service. In the 1920s, chars usually did all the hard graft work that paid live-in domestics would no longer do as they looked for excuses to leave domestic service for better paying work in offices and factories.
**Gunter and Company were London caterers and ball furnishers with shops in Berkley Square, Sloane Street, Lowndes Street and New Bond Street. They began as Gunter’s Tea Shop at 7 and 8 Berley Square 1757 where it remained until 1956 as the business grew and opened different premises. In the nineteenth and twentieth centuries Gunter's became a fashionable light eatery in Mayfair, notable for its ices and sorbets. Gunter's was considered to be the wedding cake makers du jour and in 1889, made the bride cake for the marriage of Queen Victoria’s granddaughter, Princess Louise of Wales. Even after the tea shop finally closed, the catering business carried on until the mid 1970s.
***Elizabeth Bowes Lyon as she was known in 1921 went on to become Queen of the United Kingdom and the Dominions from 1936 to 1952 as the wife of King George VI. Whilst still Duke of York, Prince Albert initially proposed to Elizabeth in 1921, but she turned him down, being "afraid never, never again to be free to think, speak and act as I feel I really ought to"
****Prince Albert, Duke of York, known by the diminutive “Bertie” to the family and close friends, was the second son of George V. Not only did Bertie propose to Elizabeth in 1921, but also in March 1922 after she was a bridesmaid at the wedding of Albert’s sister, Princess Mary to Viscount Lascelles. Elizabeth refused him a second time, yet undaunted Bertie pursued the girl who had stolen his heart. Finally, in January 1923 she agreed to marry him in spite of her misgivings about royal life.
*****’Dancing Time’ was a popular song in Britain in 1921 with words by George Grossmith Jr. and music by Jerome Kern.
This rather splendid buffet of delicious savoury treats might look real to you, but in fact the whole scene is made up on 1:12 scale miniatures from my miniatures collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
On Lettice’s black japanned dining table delicious canapés are ready to be consumed by party guests. The plate of sandwiches, the silver tray of biscuits and the bowls of dips, most of the savoury petite fours on the silver tray furthest from the camera and the silver tray of Cornish pasties were made in England by hand from clay by former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Her work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination. The cheese selection on the tray closest to the camera were made by hand by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering, as are the empty champagne glasses all of which are made of hand blown glass. The bowl of caviar was made by Karen Lady Bug Miniatures in England.
The tray that the caviar is sitting on and the champagne bucket are made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The bottle of Deutz and Geldermann champagne. It is an artisan miniatures and made of glass and has real foil wrapped around its neck. It was made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. Several of the other bottles of mixers in the foreground are also made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The bottle of Gordon’s Dry Gin, the bottle of Crème de Menthe, Cinzano, Campari and Martini are also 1:12 artisan miniatures, made of real glass, and came from a specialist stockist in Sydney. Gordon's London Dry Gin was developed by Alexander Gordon, a Londoner of Scots descent. He opened a distillery in the Southwark area in 1769, later moving in 1786 to Clerkenwell. The Special London Dry Gin he developed proved successful, and its recipe remains unchanged to this day. The top markets for Gordon's are (in descending order) the United Kingdom, the United States and Greece. Gordon's has been the United Kingdom’s number one gin since the late Nineteenth century. It is the world's best-selling London dry gin. Crème de menthe (French for "mint cream") is a sweet, mint-flavored alcoholic beverage. Crème de menthe is an ingredient in several cocktails popular in the 1920s, such as the Grasshopper and the Stinger. It is also served as a digestif. Cinzano vermouths date back to 1757 and the Turin herbal shop of two brothers, Giovanni Giacomo and Carlo Stefano Cinzano, who created a new "vermouth rosso" (red vermouth) using "aromatic plants from the Italian Alps in a recipe which is still secret to this day. Campari is an Italian alcoholic liqueur, considered an apéritif. It is obtained from the infusion of herbs and fruit (including chinotto and cascarilla) in alcohol and water. It is a bitters, characterised by its dark red colour.
The vase of red roses on the dining table and the vase of yellow lilies on the Art Deco console are beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium. Also on the console table stand some of Lettice’s precious artisan purchases from the Portland Gallery in Soho. The pair of candelabra at either end of the sideboard are sterling silver artisan miniatures from Karen Ladybug Miniatures in England. The silver drinks set, made by artisan Clare Bell at the Clare Bell Brass Works in Maine, in the United States. Each goblet is only one centimetre in height and the decanter at the far end is two- and three-quarter centimetres with the stopper inserted. Lettice’s Art Deco ‘Modern Woman’ figure is actually called ‘Christianne’ and was made and hand painted by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland. ‘Christianne’ is based on several Art Deco statues and is typical of bronze and marble statues created at that time for the luxury market in the buoyant 1920s.
Lettice’s dining room is furnished with Town Hall Miniatures furniture, which is renown for their quality. The only exceptions to the room is the Chippendale chinoiserie carver chair and the Art Deco cocktail cabinet (the edge of which just visible on the far right-hand side of the photo) which were made by J.B.M. Miniatures.
The paintings on the walls are 1:12 artisan pieces made by Amber’s Miniatures in the United States. The geometric Art Deco wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today we are in Lettice’s chic, dining room, which stands adjunct to her equally stylish drawing room. She has decorated it in a restrained Art Deco style with a smattering of antique pieces. It is also a place where she has showcased some prized pieces from the Portman Gallery in Soho including paintings, her silver drinks set and her beloved statue of the ‘Modern Woman’ who presides over the proceedings from the sideboard.
“Luncheon is served, Miss.” Edith, Lettice’s maid, announces in a brave voice, disguising her nerves cooking for Lettice’s father the Sixth Viscount of Wrexham as she drops a respectful curtsey on the threshold between the dining room and the drawing room.
“What’s that?” Viscount Wrexham pipes as he sits up in the Art Deco tub chair by the fire that he has been comfortably installed in for the last hour and a half.
“Luncheon, Pappa.” Lettice replies. “Thank you, Edith.”
“Yes Miss.” Edith replies. She bobs another quick curtsey and wastes no time scurrying back through the green baize door into the relative safety of the kitchen.
“Shall we go through, Pappa?” Lettice asks with a happy smile and an indicating gesture.
The Viscount and his daughter stand up and stroll into the dining room, leaving their empty aperitif glasses on the low coffee table. Lettice takes her place as hostess at the head of the table, whilst her father takes his place to her left.
“What’s this?” the Viscount burbles discontentedly as he looks across the black japanned Art Deco table.
“It looks like luncheon to me, Pappa.” Lettice replies sweetly, aware that her answer will irritate her father. “Edith’s roast chicken. How delicious.”
“I can see that Lettice.” Viscount Wrexham growls. “Don’t be obtuse!”
“Then be more specific, Pappa.”
“To be more specific. Why did that lazy girl just leave it in the middle of the table. Girl! Girl!” he bellows towards the door. “Come here, girl!”
“Pappa!” Lettice exclaims.
Edith hurries back through the door with a harried look on her face. “Yes, Your Lordship?” She makes a quick bob curtsey and gazes down at her fingers folded neatly in front of her.
The Viscount glares firstly at her, then turns silently to glare at the food causing offence on the table.
“Thank you Edith,” Lettice says apologetically in a soothing tone. “His Lordship was mistaken. You may return to your duties.”
“What? I…” the older man splutters, turning his offended gaze to his daughter.
“Pappa.” Lettice places her elegant hand with its manicured nails over her father’s bigger hand and waits until Edith has slipped back through the green baize door like a shadow. “Papa. You’re in London now, not in Wiltshire: in my flat, not in Glynes*. This is luncheon, à la London. And in London, in my flat, we serve ourselves luncheon on informal occasions. Would you carve?” She proffers the carving cutlery to her disgruntled father.
“Well, I suppose someone must, since you see fit to deprive us of a butler,” he mutters.
“Pappa, look around you. I live in a flat, not a mansion. I don’t need a butler. Edith does very well as a cook and maid-of-all-work. And I’d like to keep her, so please stop terrorising her by bellowing at her.”
“What about for a dinner party! Don’t tell me you insult your guests as you do your poor Father by forcing them to serve themselves. You’ll never have a single client if you do.”
“No Pappa,” Lettice sighs in an exasperated fashion. “Edith can wait table as good as any butler.”
“Ptah! What nonsense! A girl waiting table. It’s like the war all over again.”
“Or,” Lettice speaks over her father forcefully to prevent a tirade coming from his lips. “If needs be, I hire extra staff from a domestic agency in Westminster Mamma put me in touch with. It’s the same agency she uses when you both come up to London from Glynes.” She spoons some boiled vegetables onto her plate next to the piece of roast chicken her father placed on it. “Thinking of which, it was lovely of Mamma to send up some orange roses from Glynes.”
“Yes, your Mother has done particularly well with the roses in the greenhouses at Glynes this year. They have protected the blooms from the Wiltshire cold and provided a profusion of flowers.”
“They are beautiful.” Lettice smiles as she looks at the fiery orange blooms in the tall cut crystal vase on the table before her.
“Well, your Mother and I both agree that this London flat of yours, like so much of London, lacks colour. It’s all black and white, just like those Bioscopes** you young people so adore.”
“Nonsense Pappa! My flat has lots of colour. Just look at the art on my walls.”
“Finger paintings!” he snorts derisively as he takes a bite of his chicken. “Your Mother and I agree about that too. Not to mention,” the Viscount pauses, deposits his cutlery onto his plate and turns in his seat to look behind him at the statue of the bronze woman reclining, yet gazing straight at him with a steely gaze. “Ahem.”
“It’s called modern art, Pappa. And she is divine: the embodiment of the New Woman in bronze. Anyway, thankfully my clients happen to like my choice of ‘finger paintings’ and modern sculpture from the Portland Gallery.”
“Aah, yes well,” the Viscount clears his throat and dabs the edges of his mouth with his blue linen napkin. “Thinking of clients. That brings me to the purpose of my visit.”
“Of course. There has to be a reason beyond visiting your beloved youngest daughter just to see to her welfare.”
“Now, don’t be like that Lettice.” He wags a finger admonishingly at her. “Many is the time I’ve come up to town just to have the pleasure of your company over luncheon at Claridge’s. No. No, your Mother, heard from… a friend, ahem.” The older man clears his throat awkwardly. “That you designed some interiors for the wife of that banker, Hatchett: the chorus girl.”
Lettice purposefully lowers her fork. Picking up her glass of red wine she replies, “I did Pappa. What of it?”
“Oh Lettice! Your poor mother and I were hoping that it was just a rumour.”
“Well why shouldn’t I design interiors for her? I’m an interior designer and she needed some rooms redesigning.”
“Lettice! You know perfectly well why. I shouldn’t have to spell it out for you. You aren’t a child anymore. You know your position in society. Be an interior designer by all means, but at least stick to your own class and be a society interior designer, my dear.”
“That doesn’t pay the bills, Pappa.”
The Viscount looks askance at his daughter. “For shame, Lettice!”
“Pappa, I’m a businesswoman now. I must talk about money. At least the Hatchett’s paid for my services.”
“You’re of age now Lettice, and I pay you a damn good allowance that should more than cover your expenses, and maybe even extend to getting a decent butler rather than a maid. Frocks, even the ones you like, can’t be that costly, surely.”
“Pappa, it’s not so much about the money. It’s about the success of my business. I want to do something with my life. I can’t be a successful interior designer if I provide my services at no fee. I’d be a sham!”
“Well what about that cousin of your Mother’s in Fitzroy Square? Cousin Gwendolyn wasn’t it?”
“Pappa, the Duchess of Whitby still hasn’t paid me a third of what she owes for the redesign of her small reception room. I’ve sent her two reminders which she has politely ignored. She is never at home when I visit, and she is evasive to say the least over the telephone.”
“Oh.” the Viscount looks down at his plate. “Well… well, I’ll talk to your Mother about talking to Gwendolyn about that.”
“It would be even better if you did Pappa.” Lettice raises her glass of claret. “She is more inclined to listen to you, as head of the Chetwynd household.”
“Oh, very well Lettice.” he sighs and clinks glasses with his daughter.
“Thank you Pappa!” She leans over and pecks her father on the cheek, sending a flush of colour across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “You are a brick!”
The two continue to eat their luncheon from Lettice’s gilt blue and white Royal Doulton dinner set in an avant garde Art Deco pattern. For a short while the companionable silence is only broken by the sound of cutlery against crockery.
“Your Mother is right. I never could say no to you, Lettice.”
“You have to have a favourite Pappa.” Lettice smiles happily. “Why shouldn’t it be me?”
“It should be Leslie, as my son and heir.”
“Oh, he’s Mamma’s favourite.” Lettice flaps the remark away with a flick of her left hand. “We all know that. We’ve always known that.”
“Well Lettice, as I said before. Just remember your position in society. Your Mother and I, we’re prepared to tolerate your wish to dabble in this business folly of yours before you settle down and get married, but please be a society interior designer and design for your own class. Be discerning with your choice of clients. Hmmm?” He smiles hopefully at his daughter.
“We’ll see Pappa.” Lettice replies, a smile dancing on her lips as she sips her glass of claret.
*Glynes is the home of the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham, the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire.
** The Bioscope is an early term for what became by the mid 1920s a motion-picture theatre or cinema. The Bioscope was a hand-driven projector with a low-watt bulb placed behind the reel. Originally a Bioscope show was a music hall and fairground attraction. Mary Pickford was the original Bioscope Girl, so named because of the Bioscope films she starred in during the Great War and early 1920s.
Lettice’s fashionable Mayfair flat dining room is perhaps a little different to what you might think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures I have collected over time.
Fun things to look for in this tableaux include:
The roast chicken, tureens of vegetables and the gravy boat of gravy on the table all came from an English stockist of 1:12 artisan miniatures whom I found on E-Bay. They all look almost good enough to eat. The 1:12 artisan bottle of Pinot Noir is made from glass and the winery on the label is a real winery in France. The bottle was made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The wine and water glasses, carafe of water and the vase are all 1:12 artisan miniatures too, made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering in England. The vase is especially fine. If you look closely you will see that it is decorated with lattices of fine threads of glass to give it a faceted Art Deco look. The orange roses in the vase were also hand made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures. The Art Deco dinner set is part of a much larger set I acquired from a dollhouse suppliers in Shanghai.
In the background on the console table stand some of Lettice’s precious artisan purchases from the Portland Gallery in Soho. The pair of candelabra at either end of the sideboard are sterling silver artisan miniatures from Karen Ladybug Miniatures in England. The silver drinks set, made by artisan Clare Bell at the Clare Bell Brass Works in Maine, in the United States. Each goblet is only one centimetre in height and the decanter at the far end is two- and three-quarter centimetres with the stopper inserted. Lettice’s Art Deco ‘Modern Woman’ figure is actually called ‘Christianne’ and was made and hand painted by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. ‘Christianne’ is based on several Art Deco statues and is typical of bronze and marble statues created at that time for the luxury market in the buoyant 1920s.
Lettice’s dining room is furnished with Town Hall Miniatures furniture, which is renown for their quality. The only exceptions to the room is the Chippendale chinoiserie carver chair and the Art Deco cocktail cabinet (the edge of which just visible on the far right-hand side of the photo) which were made by J.B.M. Miniatures.
The carpet beneath the furniture is a copy of a popular 1920s style Chinese silk rug hand made by Mackay and Gerrish in Sydney, Australia. The paintings on the walls are 1:12 artisan pieces made by Amber’s Miniatures in the United States. The geometric Art Deco wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today it is Tuesday, and we are in the very modern and up-to-date 1920s kitchen of Lettice’s flat: Edith her maid’s preserve, which is usually a place of calm and organisation. However today, Edith is in a flap, rushing about the room between the stove and the deal kitchen table in the centre of the room, banging copper pots and porcelain serving dishes alike as she starts to serve the day’s luncheon of a roast chicken with boiled vegetables and gravy.
“Goodness dearie! What’s to do?*” Mrs. Boothby, Lettice’s charwoman** who comes on Tuesdays and every third Thursday to do the hard jobs, gasps as she slips into the kitchen via the door that leads from the flat’s entrance hall.
“Oh nothing!” Edith spits anxiously as she slams a heavy bottomed copper saucepan on the table’s surface and starts spooning some boiled vegetables into a pretty blue and white serving dish. “It’s just that Miss Lettice’s father is here.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Boothby’s eyebrows arch with curiosity over her sparking eyes. “Is that ooh that pompous old windbag is in the parlour?”
“Ssshhh!” Edith shushes the older Cockney woman. “He’ll hear you!” She indicates with her slotted ladle to the green baize door that leads from the kitchen to the flat’s dining room and the drawing room beyond it.
“I very much doubt that, dearie. “’E seems more than occupied wiv jabberin’ away to Miss Lettice.”
Edith’s face suddenly drains of the high colour her anxiety and the hot kitchen has given it. “He didn’t see you, did he Mrs. Boothby?”
The wiry thin Cockney woman bursts out laughing, which turns into one of her bouts of fruity coughing. “Goodness no, dearie!” she gasps. “I was just finishin’ polishin’ the bedroom floor and I glimpsed ‘im from a distance sittin’ in the parlour as I was comin’ across the entrance hall wiv me bucket.” She drops her aluminium bucket onto the black and white linoleum floor. “Nah! I knows better than ta show my face there when Miss Lettice ‘as guests.”
“Well,“ Edith mutters distractedly as she continues spooning greens from the pot into the tureen. “That’s a relief anyway.”
“Now, what’s all this then?” Mrs. Boothby asks with genuine concern. “It ain’t like you ta be upset by one of Miss Lettice’s visitors, dearie. It’s only ‘er old dad come ta pay a call.”
“Exactly!” Edith says, dropping the ladle back into the pot. She turns around and withdraws a roast chicken from the oven, golden brown and juicy, which she places on the wooden serving tray in the middle of the table. “Miss Lettice came in here at eleven, bold as brass. She knows I don’t like it when she fails to ring the call bell and comes in here.”
“And what did she want?”
“Well, she asked me what was for luncheon. I told her I was going to marinade her a nice bit of chicken with some vegetables. She then asked if it could be extended to a whole chicken with a few extra vegetables, as she had an unexpected visitor dropping in from Wiltshire.”
“Well, that’s where she comes from, so of course ‘er old dad is gonna come from there too.” Mrs. Boothby observes.
“Precisely!” Edith starts mixing some juices from the pan with some gravy salt and some herbs in a smaller copper pot. “When I asked her who was expected, she said breezily as you please, ‘oh just my father’.”
“Well,” Mrs. Boothby says, looking at the chicken on the serving dish, inhaling the wafts of delicious steam coming from it appreciatively. “Looks and smells alright ta me.”
“Alright! Alright!” Edith splutters as she stirs up the gravy. “I’ve never cooked for a viscount before!”
“Ooh’s a viscount?” Mrs. Boothby asks.
“He is!” Edith hisses back. “Miss Lettice’s father! He’s the Sixth Viscount Wrexham.”
“I thought you said your last position was in Pimlico.” Mrs. Boothby says, looking doubtfully at the maid.
“It was, but what has that to do with Lord Chetwynd being a viscount?” Edith pours the rich, thick steaming gravy into a blue and white porcelain gravy boat which matches the tureen and serving dishes.
“Well, they’s plenty of fancy titled folk in Pimlico. Didn’t ya serve some there?”
“I worked for a steel manufacturer and his wife, not a member of the aristocracy, Mrs. Boothby. I served other manufacturers, businessmen and MPs, but not a viscount.”
“Well, I shouldn’t worry too much ‘bout it, dearie. ‘E’ll eat ‘is tea just like manufacturers, businessmen, MPs and everyone else does; wiv ‘is mouth.”
“I’m not so sure about that Mrs. Boothby. He’s already asked Miss Lettice several times where the butler is when he wants a drink or anything else.”
“Nah! ‘E’s just potificatin’, like all them old lawds and laydees do, cos they got their own butlers and maids and what-not in they’s big ‘ouses at ‘ome.” The older woman comes around and wraps her careworn bony fingers around Edith’s shoulders, squeezing them in a comforting fashion. “Yer listen ta me, dearie. Yer cooked a fine tea ‘ere, just as good as any ‘Is Lawdship what would get back in Wiltshire from ‘is ‘oity-toity cook. ‘E should be grateful ta be getting’ such good food ta eat.”
Edith sighs and slumps a little.
“Nah! None of that my girl!” Mrs. Boothby continues, frowning at Edith. “Come on! Shoulders back! Show ‘Is Lawdship that youse as good as any servant. Do Miss Lettice proud. Eh?”
Edith looks up to Mrs. Boothby gratefully. “Thank you, Mrs. Boothby. You’re right.”
“Course I am, dearie. Nah, you go serve and I’ll start the washin’ up. Hhhmm?”
As Edith place the dishes and carving cutlery on her serving tray, ready to take into the dining room, she says, “I wonder why he’s come here for luncheon.”
“Ooh, dearie?”
“The Viscount Wrexham, of course Mrs. Boothby!”
“Oh ‘im. Well, I imagine ‘e’ll get a better meal ‘ere than at one of them clubs ‘e goes to in St. James.”
“But usually, when he visits London, he and Miss Lettice lunch at Claridge’s, or the Savoy. They’ll get a much finer lunch there than here.”
“Well, they’s no point in worryin’ yerself into more of a state ‘bout it, nah is there?”
“I suppose not.”
“What’s ‘appenin’ is appenin’, and there ain’t nuffin’ yer can do ‘bout it. Nah go serve them their tea before it gets cold.”
*The phrase “what’s to do?” in the 1920s and 1930s meant “what’s the matter?” or “what’s wrong?”.
**A charwoman, chargirl, or char, jokingly charlady, is an old-fashioned occupational term, referring to a paid part-time worker who comes into a house or other building to clean it for a few hours of a day or week, as opposed to a maid, who usually lives as part of the household within the structure of domestic service. In the 1920s, chars usually did all the hard graft work that paid live-in domestics would no longer do as they looked for excuses to leave domestic service for better paying work in offices and factories.
This busy domestic kitchen scene is a little different to what you might think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures from my miniatures collection, some of which come from my own childhood.
Fun things to look for in this tableaux include:
On Edith’s deal table is a panoply of things as she readies luncheon for Lettice and her British peerage father. The mahogany stained serving tray, the roast chicken, tureen of vegetables and gravy boat of gravy all came from an English stockist of 1:12 artisan miniatures whom I found on E-Bay. They look almost good enough to eat. The carving cutlery, which is made with great attention to detail, comes from Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces.
To the right of the tray is a box of Queen’s Gravy Salt. Queen’s Gravy Salt is a British brand, and this box is an Edwardian design. Gravy Salt is a simple product it is solid gravy browning and is used to add colour and flavour to soups stews and gravy - and has been used by generations of cooks and caterers. It and the Oxo stock cubes are artisan miniatures from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering in England. Oxo is a brand of food products, including stock cubes, herbs and spices, dried gravy, and yeast extract. The original product was the beef stock cube, and the company now also markets chicken and other flavour cubes, including versions with Chinese and Indian spices. The cubes are broken up and used as flavouring in meals or gravy or dissolved into boiling water to produce a bouillon. Oxo produced their first cubes in 1910 and further increased Oxo's popularity.
The glass jar of herbs with its wooden stopper of cork is also a 1:12 size miniature, as are the blue porcelain mixing bowl, wooden spoon and the copper pots on the table. The smaller of the two on the right I have had since I was a teenager, and it is remarkably heavy for its size!
Edith’s Windsor chair is a hand-turned 1:12 artisan miniature which came from America. Unfortunately, the artist did not carve their name under the seat, but it is definitely an unmarked artisan piece.
In the background you can see a very modern and up-to-date 1920s gas stove. It would have been expensive to instal at the time, and it would have been the cook’s or maid’s pleasure to cook on and in. It would have included a thermostat for perfect cooking and without the need of coal, it was much cleaner to feed, use and easier to clean. It is not unlike those made by the Roper Stove Company in the 1920s. The Roper Stove Company previously named the Florence-Wehrle Company among other names, was founded in 1883. Located in Newark, Ohio, the company was once the largest stove producer in the world. Today, the Roper Stove Company is a brand of Whirlpool.
On the bench in the background is a toaster: a very modern convenience for a household even in the early 1920s, but essential when there was no longer a kitchen range on which to toast the bread. Although toasters had been readily available since the turn of the century, they were not commonplace in British kitchens until well after the Great War in the late 1930s. Next to the toaster is a biscuit barrel painted in the style of English ceramic artist Clarice Cliff which is a hand painted 1:12 miniature made by Karen Ladybug Miniatures in England. It contains its own selection of miniature hand-made chocolate biscuits! Next to that stands a bread crock and various jars and preserves for toast.
An incredible soup that I made for dinner tonight. I made sure I sent my wife photos to show her what she was missing this evening.
Here is the recipe for this amazing soup!!
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
12 to 16 ounces andouille sausage (halved lengthwise then thinly sliced)
16 ounces mushrooms (sliced)
4 tablespoons butter
4 green onions (thinly sliced)
1 clove garlic (mashed and finely minced)
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
3 cups chicken broth or vegetable broth (unsalted or low sodium) - I used 4 cups
1 cup heavy cream
8 ounces (about 2 cups) mild cheddar cheese (shredded)
Dash of ground nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon ground black pepper
Dash of salt (to taste)
Garnish: chives, parsley, or additional sliced green onion tops
In a large pot or Dutch oven, saute the sliced sausage in the oil over medium heat.
Transfer sausage to a plate and add mushrooms to the drippings left in the pot. If needed, add a little more oil.
Cook, stirring, until mushrooms are tender and lightly browned.
Add the green onions and garlic to the mushrooms; saute for 1 minute longer.
Pour mushroom mixture, with any liquids, into a bowl and set aside.
Melt the butter in the same pot.
Stir in flour until blended and bubbly and continue cooking, stirring, for 1 minute.
Stir in the broth and cook, stirring, until thickened.
Add the cream and cheese to the broth mixture, stirring until melted.
Add the sausage and mushroom mixture back to the pot. Stir and add nutmeg and pepper.
Taste and add salt, as needed. Heat through.
Serve with more green onion, snipped chives, or chopped parsley for garnish.
My Notes: I ended up using another cup of broth in this recipe. I also had another 1/4 pound of sausage left over so I ended up frying it crisp and used that as garnish also
Andouille Sausage purchased from Greg's Meats
Hampton Minnesota
Red Pepper Quiche (Red bell pepper, zucchini, egg, cottage cheese, cheddar cheese).
Strawberry yogurt topped with granola, strawberries and blueberries.
Chocolate chip muffin and peach-mango juice
Served at Cliff Cottage Inn Bed and Breakfast
Eureka Springs Arkansas
Monday May 16th, 2022
The handle depicts the triumphal return of Dionysus from India, an important aspect of the mystery cult, symbolizing triumph over death. The scene occurs frequently on contemporary Roman sarcophagi, but here the procession is shown in the context of Roman trophies, captives, and weapons.
Roman, early 3rd century CE.
Met Museum (54.11.8)
... recién salida del horno de mi taller de cerámica.
Me vendrá perfecta para poner los turrones y los dulces de Navidad
Lying in an old silver serving dish from the Kurhotel Petersberg near Bonn Germany, now residing in East London South Africa. The hotel this comes from on the other side of the Rhine was the hotel Chamberlain stayed in on September 22/23, 1938 when he met Hitler during the Sudetencrisis. On the 30. September he made the famous "Peace for our time speech" (" I believe it is peace for our time. We thank you from the bottom of our hearts, And now I recommend you to go home and sleep quietly in your beds") from Downing Street. The next day the Sudetenland was occupied. A bit of history at the other end of the world.
color bake-serve-store ware: color bowl set, multi color bowl set, cinderella bowl sets, cinderella casseroles sets, cinderella bake, serve and store set & oven refrigerator and freezer sets.
for coffee and beverage serving: pyrex juice server bottle, pyrex little gold jug, pyrex magic cradle, pyrex carafes, cinderella carafe and deluxe carafe with electric warming tray and cord.
A large 1960s round glass plate or platter that features a Georges Briard design of a stylized flowers and leaves.
My wife and I visited Maryland for a family get together. On some of the tables were glass dishes with an assortment of nuts.
The decoration on this silver handle depicts the triumphal return of Dionysus from India, an important aspect of the mystery cult, symbolizing triumph over death. The scene occurs frequently on contemporary Roman sarcophagi, but here, the procession is shown in the context of Roman trophies, captives, and weapons.
Roman, Mid-Imperial, Severan, early 3rd c. CE
Metropolitan Museum, New York (54.11.8)