Dinner in a Paris Kitchen

It recently dawned on me that it's been ages since I've written an entertaining blog post- that is, a post about entertaining.  Let's hope you've found at least some of my recent posts to be entertaining.

Who better to coax us into preparing a casual weeknight dinner than Marie-Paule Pellé, an "inventive Parisian style maker," according to this Nineties House Beautiful article.  It turns out that Pellé, a designer and stylist, was responsible for some of Henri Bendel's interiors when it reopened at 712 Fifth Avenue in the early 1990s.  As inventive as Pellé seems to be, she is also an inveterate hostess, able to whip up a delicious meal in half an hour.  (If only I could be that efficient when cooking for dinner guests.)  For the dinner party seen here, Pellé created a doable menu of store-bought brioches filled with truffle-flavored scrambled eggs, mustard-coated salmon, goat cheese rolled in ground hazelnuts, and poached peaches for dessert. 

But what I find more inspiring than the menu is the setting: Pellé's rue de Rivoli apartment.  While her home might be big on Gallic charm, its small-size makes entertaining a challenge. Nevertheless, Pellé is able to seat twelve for dinner in her pocket-sized kitchen.  The saving grace, however, has to be her miniature garden located in a light well (see photo above.)  Planted with lush greenery and a few hydrangea bushes, the garden is an airy-yet-cozy setting for champagne and biscuits, seen below, or, as I imagine, an intimate dinner for two.

Crottin de Chavignol and Hazelnut Rounds

1 16oz. log Crottin de Chavignol or other fresh goat cheese, chilled
1 cup finely chopped hazelnuts

Slice the cheese log into 16 1-ounce rounds.  Roll cheese rounds in ground hazelnuts until completely covered. Allow cheese rounds to come to room temperature before serving with a loaf of crusty French bread.  Serves 6.

All photos from House Beautiful, Elizabeth Zeschin photographer.

The Ultimate in High-Rise Living

I love the high-rise in which I live.  It's located on the most prominent street in Atlanta.  All kinds of interesting people live here.  And, important to me, it's been around since the late Sixties, meaning it reminds me of the old Atlanta in which I grew up.  But the building's one annoying deficiency is that it lacks a restaurant to provide room-service dining.  Thirty-plus years ago, there was a high-style restaurant in the lobby called "Tango", but sadly, those days are long gone.  If it were still around, I would likely never cook for guests again.  Instead, I'd simply call down and order dinner.  How great- and easy- would that be?

My fixation on having a downstairs restaurant might be why I was so taken with this 1990s House Beautiful article about designer William Hodgins' three-room apartment, which was located in the residential tower at Boston's Ritz-Carlton Hotel.  Without a doubt, Hodgins' great taste and beautiful possessions are really the reason why I clipped this article, but the photo of a waiter pushing the room-service dining table into Hodgins' apartment hooked me, too. 

You might remember Hodgins' earlier home, which I featured on my blog a few months ago.  That apartment was located in an 1887 building.   So, why would a traditionalist like Hodgins choose to live in a modern building?  For its conveniences, of course, which included room service provided by the hotel's dining room.  Rather than create an old-world backdrop for his "old things," Hodgins wisely chose instead to play up the modern aspects of his apartment, eschewing curtains on some windows, painting walls bright white, and laying faux-concrete tile on the floor.  Said Hodgins, "Trying to make a new apartment look old never works."  So true.  And Hodgins' preferred neutral color-palette meant that his antiques adapted quite nicely to their modern surroundings, making the age discrepancies between possessions and architecture seem minimal.

But back to room service.  Despite the fact that Hodgins claimed to rarely order it, he certainly knew how to personalize a room-service meal: with place settings of antique creamware.  Now I want a restaurant in my building even more.

All photos from House Beautiful, Oberto Gili photographer

Meaningful Decorating

Patina...personality...layering.  Call it what you want, but a house furbished with a lifetime accrual of bobs and bits is so much more compelling, and far more memorable, than a house whose decorations are brand-spanking new.  The compelling house is becoming a rare thing, a victim of the immediacy with which most people approach decorating their homes.  Why spend time patiently searching for an antique dining table or waiting for a custom one to be built when a new one can be rush delivered by Restoration Hardware within a few short days?

I was reminded of the rewards of meaningful decorating while studying these mid-Nineties photos of the late Ronald Grimaldi's Southampton house.  Grimaldi, a designer and one-time president of Rose Cumming, had renovated and sold a number of houses in the area before purchasing this one, which had once served as the "hobby house" on a Stanford White-designed estate.  But instead of sinking a lot of time and money into a costly renovation, Grimaldi chose the economical route of refreshing it.  A few of the rooms were updated with fresh coats of paint, while others were treated to wallpaper.  And other than purchasing a few pieces of furniture for the house, Grimaldi furbished it with pieces he had amassed over time.  Nineteenth-century chinoiserie wallpaper, a 1940s-era mirrored table, and Chippendale chairs were just some of the diverse decorations that the designer chose to accompany him to his new home.  As unexpected as these furnishings might seem for a coastal house, so, too, are Grimaldi's choice of silk taffetas and damasks, whose inclusion seems only natural considering the designer's association with Rose Cumming.  The result is a house that is refreshingly not beach-y nor sporty nor casual but rather comfortably genteel and dignified.

(To read my blog post about Grimaldi's Manhattan apartment, please click here.)

All photos from House Beautiful, Robert Starkoff photographer

A Continental Take on Christmas Decor

It might seem strange to post a cache of Christmas photos when the holidays are well behind us and Spring is right around the corner.  But when said Christmas photos involve lots of blue and white ceramics and alluring fabrics, then no time seems the wrong time to post them.

The photos seen here, which show the home of Madrid-based designer Lorenzo Castillo, appeared in the December issue of Vogue Espana- which, by the way, only just landed at my local newsstand a few weeks ago.  Castillo's work, a curious blend of styles that seem to reflect the designer's catholic tastes, has earned him fans not just in Europe but on these shores as well.  Castillo's eclectic sensibility is on full display in his own home, an enticing mix of Chinese porcelains, Asian-motif fabrics, flamestitch velvet, and glimmers of gilt.  Looking at this somewhat baroque and rather maximalist decor, I am reminded of Duarte Pinto Coelho and Hutton Wilkinson, both designers whose work has more than a soupçon of flair.

While my American sensibility requires a Christmas celebrated in more traditional fashion- think Fraser Firs, red ribbon, and even the token Nutcracker- I like way in which Castillo marked his Christmas in high style.  The effect is as rich as a Christmas confection- and every bit as delicious.

All photos from Vogue Espana, December 2015, Aaron Serrano photographer.

Tom Parr in France

A few years ago, I read a Country Life article on Tom Parr and his partner Klaus Scheinert's garden in the South of France. The article was published in 2013, two years after the death of Parr, who, as many of you know, was the former director of the venerable London design firm, Colefax and Fowler. While the Country Life article was a keeper (meaning I clipped it for my tear-sheet library), I was left wishing that I could see photos of the home's interior.

Thankfully, someone gave me a 1997 issue of House Beautiful that happened to feature Parr and Scheinert's house, interiors and all.  Located near Grasse, the house, named "La Casella", had been built in the 1960s and was patterned after an 18th-century pavilion built for Madame de Pompadour.  By the time Parr and Scheinert purchased the house in the Eighties, the house was in sorry shape, a "rather unloved, rather down-market place," according to Parr.  Equally as unloved were the adjoining gardens, which once supplied jasmine to the perfume industry.  But after Parr's overhaul of the interiors and Scheinert's revamp of the gardens, La Casella was eventually transformed into a haven of comfortable good taste.

Fans of the English Country House style should be pleased by the home's interiors, which were lavished with Colefax and Fowler fabrics, including old favorites such as Old Rose (seen above in the yellow salon, the room which perhaps best reflects Parr's inimitable style,) Bailey Rose, and Floral Toile.  Others will likely be enthused by La Casella's enchanting gardens.  (If you'd like to learn more about the gardens, you should read Robin Lane Fox's article for FT.)  But what impresses me is the confidence with which Parr decorated his house, choosing fabrics and furnishings of which he was certain he would never tire.  "I might do fresh new slipcovers, but I'm certainly not changing any of the patterns," said Parr.  "They will all be the same forever.  They work.  I love them.  And if they weren't exactly right, I wouldn't have chosen them in the first place, would I?"

A handsome Parr on the terrace of La Casella.

White jasmine and wisteria on the terrace of a guest cottage.

A view to the garden.

The walls of the library were covered in Colefax and Fowler's Longford Pink fabric, while the sofa sports Bailey Rose.

The walls of the hall and kitchen were treated to classic ticking.  The Capo di Monte plates formerly belonged to Cole Porter.

Red and cream Floral Toile envelops Scheinert's bedroom.

Yet another terrace, punctuated by blue and white.

A terrace table set for dining.


All photos from House Beautiful, August 1997, Alexandre Bailhache photographer

A Day at Château de Fontainebleau

Earlier this month, Flammarion introduced the newest addition to its well-received series of French landmark-focused books, A Day at Château de Fontainebleau, which joins the previously published A Day at Château de Vaux-le-Vicomte, A Day at Versailles, and A Day with Marie Antoinette.

While the "A Day at..." series' slip-cased format and bijou-size make these books enticing to collect, it is their concise yet nonetheless engaging text, not to mention their gorgeous photos, that make this series a worthwhile read.  Akin to a private tour, A Day at Château de Fontainebleau, written by Guillaume Picon with photography by Eric Sander, gives readers an up-close view of this former royal residence, once home to the likes of François I, Louis XIV, and Napoléon.  With its many photos of the palace's sumptuous details and its sometimes intimate though often sweeping architecture, the book makes it crystal clear why this château has earned its reputation as one of France's architectural gems.

And if you do as I did and devote a cozy afternoon to reading the book in its entirety, you'll not only find yourself the wiser for having read it, but you'll feel as though you spent a few grand hours within the confines of a most magnificent palace.

Begun under François I, the loggia was converted into a ballroom by Henri II. The frescoes were painted between 1550 and 1558 by Niccolo dell'Abate and his team, after drawings by Primaticcio.

Bedchamber in the apartments of Madame de Maintenon. The bed was supplied for Madame Élisabeth, daughter of Louis XV.

The Emperor's Bedchamber, with his giltwood state bed covered in plum-covered velvet with a pattern of flowers and laurel leaves, rewoven in Lyon in the late twentieth century to match the original fabric.

In 2014, the Imperial Theater, inaugurated by Napoleon III and Eugénie and closed for the last 150 years, was opened to the public once more.

The Pond Pavilion, built by Louis XIV and restored under Napoléon Bonaparte.


All images ©Eric Sander, from A Day at Château de Fontainebleau (Flammarion, 2015).

Chez Patou

With Paris Fashion Week quickly approaching, it seemed fitting to take a step back in time- specifically, the late 1920s- to see how the late couturier, Jean Patou, lived. Although perhaps not as well-remembered today as his rival, Coco Chanel, Patou was one of the leading couturiers of the Twenties.  An early advocate of sportswear, Patou gained a following that included some of that decade's most stylish women, including tennis great Suzanne Lenglen and Lady Diana Cooper.  A savvy businessman with a nose for marketing, Patou cut quite a dashing figure throughout Paris, earning a reputation as a stylish man-about-town.  It was to be expected that the couturier would choose to live in surroundings that were just as chic as the image he projected.

It was during World War I, when serving as a captain in the French army, that Patou met two fellow officers who, according to design historian Stephen Calloway, had a profound influence on the young couturier's burgeoning style. One soldier was Bernard Boutet de Monvel, the artist and aesthete, while the other was architect and decorator Louis Süe, who, after the war, formed a design partnership with André Mare. In post-World-War-I France, Süe et Mare were two of France's most fashionable interior decorators, assembling a coterie of sophisticated clients seeking their sumptuous brand of chic. One of those prominent clients was Patou, who enlisted Süe et Mare to decorate his 16th arrondissement hôtel particulier, which can be seen in these late-1920s photos.

What strikes me about these interiors is the designers' meticulous attention to detail- specifically, the way in which the decorative details worked together to form a seamless, stylish whole.  Patou's house was not a random, careless assemblage of fashionable furnishings.  Rather, each carefully-considered finish, fabric, and piece of furniture played an important role in creating what was ultimately a smooth-as-silk backdrop for living.  And for all of the home's high-style, Art Deco-inspired décor, these interiors strike a cultured note, too.  These are civilized rooms, most especially the bar.  (Yes, bars can be civilized, something which, unfortunately, few of today's homeowners with at-home bars seem to understand.)

Scattered among these archival photos are images of some of Patou's fashions, further proof that Patou's house was just as modish as the House of Patou.

Image at top: Jean Patou in his study.

Patou's Süe et Mare-decorated living room.

One area of the living room was designated for music. Like most of the home's furnishings, the piano was designed by Süe et Mare.

The dining room, which had yellow walls topped by brown stucco molding.

The bar, which opened onto a garden.  The chairs were designed by Süe et Mare.

The mahogany-paneled study.  Mare was responsible for the alcove, which was lined in damask.

The staircase that led up to the second floor.  The intricate metal banister was designed by Richard Desvallières.

Patou's bath. The walls and tub were faced in marble, while the patterned floor was blue, gold, and white.