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A table set for tea

As a family (and with a few select friends) we recently celebrated the many good things in our lives with an afternoon tea.

It was a smashing success.

The table was set with a white tablecloth, pale yellow napkins, and delicate tea things (including china cups from Britain, blush roses, and a two-tier plate of petite palmier and hand-dipped chocolate-covered strawberries).  Ben, with the assistance of many sous chefs, produced three kinds of cucumber sandwiches–mint, vinegar, and salmon mousse–as well as delightful scones and the aforementioned strawberries.  Two kinds of caviar were served.  We even indulged in two varieties of English tea and great quantities of sparkling wine.

With an all-star guest list featuring Randy and Lily, the recently returned Devi and Bethany, Lindsay, Ben, and friends Lala (a recent transplant from Seattle to Baltimore) and Adam (in D.C. for the summer before his return to New Haven), conversation was spirited.  The background music was a mix of classical, instrumental, French and eastern European, along with a few select poems.

I’ll leave it to Ben to post his favourite recipes of the day, which truly elevated the occasion–as I had planned merely to slather some cream cheese on rye with a slab of cucumber and call it elegant (which would of fooled none).  I will however leave you with a few photos of the grand affair, and highly encourage you to try such a party for yourself!  Bow ties not required…but encouraged.

Tonight, we have a mission.

Tonight, I must write a blog post…and thereby earn a bottle of Champagne.

The quote at the top comes from the excellent novel The Manual of Detection by Jedediah Berry, of which I have at this juncture read precisely 51%, according to the reading machine that Champagne-wielding husband of mine purchased me for the Christmas holiday.

I also highly recommend The Widow Clicquot, a biography of Veuve Clicquot, by Tilar J. Mazzeo.  A bit thin on evidence, but what she lacks in details of the woman herself, she makes up for in reams of delightful Champagne facts.  I read this one thanks to my local library.

Other recently enjoyed reads via reading machine:

The Year of the Flood, a novel by Margaret Atwood.  A companion to Oryx and Crake, a novel my copy of which I ironically lost in what I have dubbed the “Ben’s-truck-trunk-book-flooding-incident,” this is a fantastic post-apocalyptic tale by (in my opinion) one of the most astounding authors writing in English today.  I recommend not only these but the many others by her I have read–The Blind Assassin, The Edible Woman, The Robber Bride, The Handmaid’s Tale (don’t bother with the film), and her short story collection Good Bones are all excellent, and utterly engaging.

The Lacuna, by Barbara Kingsolver.  Orwellian in theme, but in ways both more subtle and more direct, she looks to the past to spin a novel of fiction from facts.  I must give props to KPLU 88.5, my local NPR affiliate, for alerting me to this novel.  (In fact, I owe that radio station for one book, one pre-ordered book, two cds and a single that I have purchased in the last month, all with great success and all, incidentally, via download.)

The Little Stranger, by Sarah Waters.  This one, a sort of neo-Gothic horror story set in postwar Britain, had me scared to stop reading–on more than one occasion, I simply read until I fell asleep, because I could only achieve calm through complete brain shutdown.  At one point, reading in bed with husband and dog, a sort of normal and banal rattling sound came from the general vicinity of the garage.  Winston, predictably, woofed–and I, unexpectedly, shrieked.  Just a little, but still, Ben has made fun of me for a week.

And finally, I will admit that the reading machine in question, Amazon’s Kindle, was probably the best gift I’ve ever received that I didn’t want.  My reading rate has gone from the odd book, here and there, to nearly grade-school levels again (when reading was my primary activity, I stayed up late under the covers every night, and leaving a book in progress felt like breaking an enchantment or waking from a deep sleep).  So, Ben, you win.

But now I’ve written a blog post, so I win too!  “The Devil’s in the details…”