A Spring Change of Pace: Effective Strategies

French Women Don’t Get Fat and a gift of non-vintage champagne are sitting on my dining table, about to be illuminated by the morning sun.

I plan to re-enter Mireille Guiliano’s food story and her world of NOURISHING leek soup, DAILY walks to the market, buying and cooking ONLY ENOUGH for today, TAKING TIME to be conscious and enjoy your food, always MOVING, walking, taking the stairs instead of the elevator – effective strategies for an inspiring change of pace as spring arrives and we all want to get outside, refresh the closet, and store or give away the heavy winter clothes.

I first saw this little gem of a book on my friend’s bedside table; I was cat- and catering company-sitting for her while she went to a family reunion. Unfamiliar with French women writers, I thought this would be light, probably superficial, reading. Not so.

There is real wisdom here as she tells her story of coming to America as a young woman to study, and then having to suffer humiliation and the consternation of her family when she returned to France, fat and unhealthy after two years of SAD, our standard American diet. What to do?

The mirror is telling me that this would be a very good time  to revisit the principles of healthy eating she shares, with a spring fast and a glass of champagne!

Ah! I like Champagne, but it doesn’t like me. I don’t do “sparkling” except in my wardrobe: Fizzy and Cold and Indu have learned to respect each other from a distance. I will always choose warm or room temperature good food and drink, but I love the spirit of her writing, and I like good wines. The author of this book, longtime spokesperson, president and CEO of Champagne Veuve Clicquot, Mme. Guiliano is very informative about how French women enjoy wine often and sparingly and always with food, looking askance at our American way of guzzling great quantities of chilled Chardonnay by itself, or before a meal.

Now that spring is here, I’m listening to my body, feeling the energy waking up: time to dial down the jars of hearty homemade soup and open up to another kind of bounty. I’ll continue to steam and saute as I don’t do well on a raw foods diet; in summer, I’ll add a little salad and those gorgeous ripe stone fruits. But for now, more glorious vegetables – perhaps no grains at all – occasional beans in a soup, very well cooked – and I am going to try Tom Franco’s super green drink.

My artist friend Tom of the Berkeley Firehouse Collective cultivates a natural flow of energy and support for his work with the practice of meditation and the right food. He made his Green Drink for us in a Vita-Mix – it was so yummy: kale, chard, spinach, mustard greens (any dark leafy greens) with a good olive oil, flaxseed oil, nuts, and fruits to make it taste good. That day he had pineapple and berries.

Tom spoke about taking his consciousness higher and having a day filled with creative energy, inspiration and joyful productivity. Now who wouldn’t want some of that?

So here we go, Effective – and Simple – Strategies for a Spring Change of Pace:

• WALK every day to my favorite whole foods market
• SELECT just the right amount of fresh organic produce and other foods for today’s meals. No “week’s worth of groceries”, so the walk back up the hill won’t be too hard, either.
• MAKE the Super Green Drink (and this may replace our regular home consumption of dark leafy greens cooked in organic chicken stock with ginger and garlic, TBD)
• ENJOY walking, I do.
• Enjoy food shopping, I do.
• Enjoy preparing your food, I do.
• Enjoy eating – I do!
• Leek Soup for 48 hours – slightly diuretc and very nourishing, full of essential vitamins and minerals, then Steamed or Sautéed Vegetables – read on to find out what else, and
• Enjoy a small glass of very nice wine

Sante, mes amis.

A Cup of Coffee

I get sentimental when I’m cooking; perhaps that’s why I like it – not just grounding, but out of the mind and into the heart. Thoughts show up like unwelcome winged creatures – and are kindly shown their way out through the window

I’m not much of a coffee drinker: My morning ritual involves tea and lighting a candle on my altar. I look at a photo of a great yogi, my teacher’s teacher, taken in village India some time in the 50s, such a simple peaceful scene – and I enjoy a moment of peace and serenity myself.

This morning I am up and at it very early in the kitchen, getting ready for the  Farmers Market in San Francisco tomorrow. And when I go to light the candle as usual, he says: How come I never get a cup of coffee?

I laugh remembering all the stories: how he drank strong black coffee and how the teashop owner who made it for him continued to make it after his death, offering it every morning to a large framed photograph that hung in his restaurant.

We used to go to there when, sometimes, it got too hot at the ashram. We would head down to the village to first visit the shrine and then take tea and uttapam or iddli sambhar under the benign gaze of that photograph before heading back to dive in, refreshed and encouraged, for another round of polishing.

When I visited the shrine last year, I had to drop in to Ramesh Bhavan, for old times sake. The altar was gone; I asked at the desk and they said the owner had died the year before. No one was offering coffee in the mornings any more.

So I boiled the kettle again: there was some nice Peet’s coffee in the fridge, but if it’s going to be like this, I am going out to buy Illy. I made a small press pot of coffee, pounded up a couple of cardamom pods and added that, selected a blue and gold demi-tasse, added a little organic cane sugar and just a touch of cream. And I presented that to him before getting back to my day of cooking.  Feeling quite happy now.

Awakening the Dreamer: Changing the Dream

Every  morning I meditate with two cups of tea, letting my mind relax and release its constant stream of inspirations, anxieties, emotions, impressions half-formed and forgotten. I let the mind sink into the heart, and it’s a recognizable transformational moment I couldn’t imagine living without – or, “without which I could not imagine living” – an experience of love.

In those times when I am sitting more formally, I invoke the process by saying: I offer the World to my Consciousness, so that I can offer my Consciousness to the World.

The Achuar people of the Amazon Rainforest are a dream culture: Every morning at 4 AM, they sit together in a circle and drink tea. They drink their tea until they vomit. Then, after purging like this – letting go of the past – they tell their dreams, and with what is shared, they plan their day and the life of the community.

Into this dream culture, came news of the approaching industrial world, a warning, and the inspiration to approach that modern world, itself, for help. And from that call for help, not just from the rainforest but from life itself, the Pachamama Alliance was created “to preserve the rainforest in the care of the indigenous people who are its natural guardians.”

Last year, Ecuador was the first country to give rights to the natural world, and to rewrite their constitution to include these protections.

The second part of the work is to “change the dream of the north,” the consumer culture of the modern world. And for that, “Awakening the Dreamer: Changing the Dream” was designed as a story and a process. I attended the Symposium with friends; my awareness of these issues was transformed – “awakened”  - and I knew that I had connected with the work I longed to be involved in after reading Tom Hartmann’s Last Hours of Ancient Sunlight.

Awakening the Dreamer, first given to 50 people in March 2005, is now being offered by over 2,000 facilitators all around the word – at Findhorn, in Calgary, San Miguel de Allende, New Zealand, Australia, to 6,000 sufis in Algeria, all over Europe and the United States.

I will host my first symposium on Sunday, March 21st, in the Bay Area, celebrating the beginning of Spring.

How To Make Cucumber Sandwiches

Great Uncle Douglas sliced the brown loaf very very carefully. In fact, he sliced it so thinly and so carefully that he had to butter the slices before cutting the bread.  Standing the loaf on its end, he spread the soft butter generously on the cut side and then scraped off the extra before passing the long serrated knife through the loaf in one clean, quick stroke. Perfect!

Great Aunt Lilian inspected the flower arrangements: one on the polished oak table and one on the piano. It was High Summer in Herefordshire and the garden yielded hollyhocks, roses, delphiniums, lupines, phlox and blue cornflowers that echoed the subtle chintz of the curtains and chair covers in the drawing room.  How lovely!

Great Uncle Douglas drained the cucumbers that had been marinating in malt vinegar, salt and black pepper since morning. Going out in the cool early light, along the path by the goldfish pond, he had been greeted by the song of the robin as he knelt to harvest the cucumbers from their dew-soaked canopy of leaves.

“Yes,” he replied to Robin. “The children are coming to tea. They’re coming all the way from Buckinghamshire. Almost from London!  That’s a long way and they’ll be very hungry.”

Rinsing the earth off the cucumbers and cleaning his shoes and his hands at the garden tap before stepping back through the French doors onto the shimmering soft colors of the Persian carpet, Great Uncle Douglas returned to the kitchen where he peeled the cucumbers and sliced them as thin as thin could be – they were transparent! – and put them to soak in the vinegar.  It made his mouth pucker!

Great Aunt Lilian studied the cake and could not find anything wrong with it. It was a beautiful large Dundee fruit cake, brought by the farm boy who came with the daily order of fresh milk, butter, eggs and cream.

“Who would live anywhere but Hereford!” she exclaimed to young Hubert, who looked a bit startled by this odd question from the Lady but politely replied, “Oh, aah!” there was no accounting for the strange behavior of townspeople. “Same tomorrow?” he said, picking up the crate of empty milk bottles, and at Great Aunt Lilian’s, “Yes, thank you so much,” he touched his cap in salute and went back to his van that was parked on Queen Street, just along from the Green Dragon where he looked forward to a pasty and a pint of bitter when he’d done his rounds for the day. Cheers!

Great Uncle Douglas laid the thin slices of brown bread and butter in two rows on the board and covered the top row with the spicy cucumbers.  Then he placed the second row on top and, very carefully, stacked the sandwiches, one on top of the other, in a high pile and cut off the crusts with his good sharp knife, wiping the blade on a damp tea towel before each cut to keep it clean. Finally, he cut diagonally across the squares and beamed at the perfect triangles he’d created. A triumph!

Now to put the kettle on – they would be here soon – and see what plates Lilian wanted to use?

In the drawing room, Great Aunt Lilian cast her eagle eye across the tea table that had been laid on her instructions before the maid left at 2 o’clock.  Crisp white damask tablecloth with impeccably folded napkins, her favorite Floradora tea service – but not the best Crown Derby!  She did hope the children wouldn’t break anything or make too much mess.

But then she thought fondly of her handsome nephew Gordon and his lovely wife Mary, and her gaze softened for a moment, remembering the two young girls, Mary and her sister Margaret, who’d been sent out of London, like so many children, to live safely there in the west country while bombs rained out of the night sky, wreaking death and destruction in the great capital.

“Well, that’s all over now!” she shook her head to clear such thoughts away. Nothing would ever be the same, and there was nothing she or anyone could do about it.  Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she tugged at a corner of the cloth to smooth out a wrinkle and made sure the silver knives and spoons were straight and correct.

And where on earth was Douglas? What had he been doing all day, pottering about in the garden, messing about in the kitchen!  She went in search of her husband as he came in search of her. And just as they met in the hall, they heard the crunch of wheels on gravel, and there was the black Rover turning into the driveway. “We’re here!”

Boys and girls and dogs bounded around the lawn and finally fell into formation behind their rather elegant and exhausted parents as they reach the front doorstep and were greeted by Aunt Lilian and Uncle Douglas.

Kisses and handshakes and “How are you, old chap?” and “Do come in, my dear!” and they all went inside: Mary with a curly-haired toddler on her hip, Gordon bearing a gift of good sherry, Michael chasing Smokey and Freckles straight into the back garden, Cynthia making a beeline for the kitchen with Great Uncle Douglas, Peter looking for the record player and Veronica – four years and five days old today – excitedly opening a big beautiful box, holding her breath as she lifted out a china doll with long eyelashes that fluttered over blue glass eyes, and a white lace gown with matching silk shoes and hair ribbon.

“Oh, Aunty! You shouldn’t have,” said Mary happily, admiring the doll. “Thank Aunt Lilian for the dolly, darling,” she said to little Veronica, who sat on the carpet rocking her new baby, speechless with wonder.

“Now,” said Great Uncle Douglas, handing his young helper a bowl. “If you fill this up with raspberries from the garden, we’ll be ready for tea.”

Cynthia went into the hot sunshine and made her way back to the raspberry canes, peering in to look at the big golden fish swimming lazily at the bottom of the pool, walking under the tall flowers with bumble bees buzzing among their colored petals in search of nectar. Peter ran down the path and caught up with her just as she found the berry patch and they began to pick the huge delicate pink clusters from the canes that towered above them.

It was hot; the sky was blue; bees buzzed to and fro and the goldfish jumped in the pond while dragonflies darted overhead. The children picked – and ate just a few berries as they knew they were ‘well brought-up’ – and soon filled the big white bowl to the brim and carried it back down the path to the kitchen.

The grown-ups were having their sherry now – clear golden liquid in tiny etched glasses – and talking about “the state of the country,” the magnificent summer, last year’s floods and the new bill in Parliament to create a National Healthcare System. Well, it was true: the War had changed everything. Winston Churchill had done his job, and been voted out, and now it was a new world, a barbarous world of social equality, nationalized industry, higher education for women, packaged foods and gadgets to minimize the drudgery of being in the kitchen!

But no one had told Great Uncle Douglas this, and he hummed a tune as he warmed the teapot on the Aga and spooned thick Jersey cream into a bowl to go with the raspberries and arranged cucumber sandwiches on one plate and the great fruit cake on another.

As the kettle started to whistle, he put seven spoonfuls of Typhoo tea into the pot – “one for each person and one for the pot” – and poured on the boiling water. “Polly put the kettle on, we’ll all have tea,” he sang to himself as he reached for the flowered cozy to keep the pot warm and loaded everything onto the trolley.

“Ah!” said Great Aunt Lilian as he pushed open the drawing room door with the trolley. “A proper tea.  Good show, Douglas!  Well done!”

And it was.

Tea Time

Standing in the kitchen eating a spoonful of the caramel I made last night – Alice Waters The Art of Simple Food - straight out of the jar, wondering when Kevin is going to teach me how to make his amazingly delicious toffee, while the gingerbread warms in the oven and a pot of good black tea brews . . .

There is nothing quite like tea time, as in the four o’clock ritual.

I rarely have tea at four these days; my caffeine hours finish now at 8 or 9 AM; it’s a surprising thing but one becomes more sensitive with age. Or is it the whole evolutionary upswing and ecologically-challenged times we live in? But on a rare occasion, like today when it’s cold and stormy out and I am getting ready for a class when really I’d like to be taking a nap . . . it’ll fix you right up. What do they say? The cup that cheers . . .

Part of the fun when I created my tea business was to go shopping in England for lovely teacups. Then, back in Manhattan, I spent an afternoon on my knees in front of the Tea Books shelf at Barnes & Noble on 82nd & Broadway. I bought the whole shelf, just to view the competition. They were all pretty useless, except an irresistibly-illustrated Book of Tea published by Flammarion, and a really and truly excellent book called A Tea Lover’s Treasury by James Norwood Pratt, who lives out here on the left coast and has a Tea Society in San Francisco. I later met him at the Fancy Food Show and he beamed when I told him I had read his book “cover-to-cover.” I hope someone says that to me one day. Amongst other things, I learned about the despicable behavior of the British who started the Opium Wars as a strategy to steal the knowledge of how to grow tea from the Chinese; other approaches having failed. “Makes yer proud . . ” as they say in Yorkshire.

Speaking of Yorkshire, Betty’s Tea Rooms in Harrogate, where they serve Yorkshire Tea, won the Tea Council’s “Best Cup of Tea in Britain” award more than once – and I always served Yorkshire Tea and other Taylor’s of Harrogate teas at my tea parties, including an excellent decaffeinated black tea, something I never thought could exist.

Struggling back to my feet, I found the two very knowledgeable women in the Cookbooks department – Zone Two – and told them what I was up to. I said, “I want one really good book of cakes and desserts. Just one.” Without hesitation, they handed me Richard Sax Classic Home Desserts: A treasury of heirloom and contemporary recipes from around the world and stood there, regarding me decisively with their arms folded. Great choice!  Thanks, Monica! Thanks, Alex!

Of course, I planned to cook my way through all the sections - a la Julie/Julia – but I got hung up on the beautiful cover where Almond Berry Shortcake looked just like a classic Devonshire Cream Tea – freshly-baked scones, split with summer ripe berries and clotted cream.

So I made that first, and made it again, making a seasonal winter adaption with an apple berry compote – it was a big hit, and I am still making those wonderful scones in various forms 12 years later.

The Shortcake turns out to be a very tender buttermilk scone dough, delicately flavored with almond and vanilla, that is very easy but needs handling quite differently from the traditional English currant scones that I also love to make.

Getting ready for the farmers market the other day, I had to make three kinds of scones and I was running out of time. There gleamed the KitchenAid mixer – my BMW – beckoning, very tempting. But I’ve made them in the mixer before, and they are just not good; it’s something about the gluten in the flour developing too much. So with a prayer to the time gods, I turned on the oven and got set up to make them by hand.

Baking is a breeze only when you have everything you need to hand. So I have dedicated part of my kitchen to that: one counter with a row of cupboards below and shelves above, where I can quickly reach for flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, sugars, essences, dried fruits, vanilla beans, chocolate, and all my bowls and spoons, cutters and brushes, measuring cups and jugs, baking trays and cake pans. I am far more likely to make a pie, a tart, a cake or scones knowing that everything is right there. And somehow it makes clean up much quicker, too.

Of course, the butter, the buttermilk and the eggs were in the fridge. I prefer the old-fashioned larder like we had at home in Herefordshire, where all these plus the milk and cream jugs, sat on a cool stone slab. We didn’t own a fridge and the milk was delivered in bottles from the farm every morning. I have a cool cupboard with a granite slab where I can keep good butter, eggs and cheese for most of the year here in Northern California – the emphasis being on “good” high quality, pastured farm eggs. Don’t try it with IFS (industrial food supply) factory-farmed eggs.

When I can get it, the sprouted spelt flour from Three Stone Hearth – made by a woman who grows the spelt (an older form of wheat that many people can tolerate better) harvests the grain, soaks and sprouts and dries and grinds it herself – is a fantastic alternative to unbleached wheat flour because you can substitute exact quantities. I have made scones with gluten-free flours – don’t bother unless you are actually celiac and dreaming of a scone – and with whole wheat and a mix of several flours, but for this recipe it’s pretty much unbleached all-purpose or sprouted spelt. You can buy spelt flour in the market, too, but I don’t find it as good and it is very expensive. The sprouted spelt is expensive but absolutely worth it.

So here goes with “Berry Shortcake with Buttermilk-Almond Biscuits” from Richard Sax Classic Home Desserts, given in my own style because, for me ice cream is NOT a substitute for cream, and I have made them with and without sugar and/or eggs, depending on the client’s preferences, and they still turn out perfect.

The standard recipe is followed by variations of my own – Savory Scones, Apple Ginger Scones and Currant Scones:

I use a heart-shaped cutter and find I can get 8 from a single recipe, about 15 from a double. And if you double the recipe, you will need a little less buttermilk.

You do not need a rolling pin, but you will use a sheet of wax paper and a baking sheet that is not black steel

SCONES:

2 1/4 cups all-purpose (or sprouted spelt) flour

1/2 cup plus 1 T. sugar (optional)

1 1/2 t. baking powder (Rumford’s is aluminum-free)

3/4 t. baking soda

1/4 t. salt

6 T. (3/4 stick) unsalted butter, cold, cut into pieces

2/3 – 1 c. buttermilk (or use equal parts yogurt and milk or water)

1 large egg yolk

1/2 t. pure vanilla extract

1/8 t. almond extract

Milk or cream for glaze

1/3 c. sliced almonds to decorate

FRUIT:

Seasonal fresh berries, picked over, hulled, sliced, with or without sugar, as you like.

Or:

Fruit Compote:  Apples (Granny Smith’s), Pears & Berries – fresh or frozen, Maple Syrup or Organic Sugar (I always use 6 apples, 6 pears and about 24 ounces of berries – per 40 people at a party)

TO MAKE APPLE BERRY COMPOTE

Get the fruit straight into the saucepan to cook, or have a container of lemon water standing by to prevent them turning brown.

Peel, core and cut the apples into chunks. Add them to a pan over low heat.

Peel core and slice the pears. Add them to the apples.

Add just a little water if necessary. Keep on low so they don’t burn.

Prepare berries and add to cooked apples and pears at the end.

Sweeten with just a little maple syrup or sugar if you like.

Jar and refrigerate if not using immediately. Serve warm or at room temperature.

TO MAKE THE SCONES:

Pre-heat the oven to 425 degrees F.

Butter a baking sheet and do not use black steel.

Place flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt in a large mixing bowl (or in a food processor) and stir or pulse briefly to combine the ingredients.

Add butter and pulse briefly or rub together with your hands until crumbly

Put 2/3 cup buttermilk in a bowl or jug; stir in the egg yolk and the vanilla and almond extracts.

Make a well in your butter flour mixture and stir in the buttermilk, or add to the processor and then turn the machine off.

Add a little more buttermilk, as needed, to form a slightly sticky but manageable dough.

Transfer the dough to a floured sheet of wax paper; do not over-handle.

Sprinkle the dough with flour.

Gently pat out the dough to an even thickness of about 3/4 inch.

Use a 3- or 3 1/3-inch round or heart-shaped cutter, dipping it into the flour, to cut the scones and transfer them to the buttered baking sheet.

Gather the scraps of dough, pat out again and make the remaining scones.

With your fingers or a pastry brush, coat the tops of the scones with a light film of milk or cream. Scatter the almonds over the tops; sprinkle with the remaining tablespoon of sugar.

(If you’re not ready to bake at this point, the scones can be covered with plastic wrap and refrigerated)

Bake the scones in a preheated 425 oven until pale golden, 11-14 minutes. I have found that to be amazingly accurate, but watch carefully as timings can vary. I usually alternate pans between the middle and top racks after 7 or 8 minutes.

HOW DO YOU KNOW THEY’RE DONE?

Tap the bottom of a scone – try not to burn yourself doing this. If it sounds hollow, they’re done.

Transfer the scones to a wire rack and cool for about 2 minutes. (I read recently that scones go on cooking in their own steam if you wrap them in clean tea towels at this stage. It seems to work well.)

Using a serrated knife and a gentle sawing motion, slice the scones horizontally in half and serve in a dessert bowl or plate with a fork. Load up the bottom half with fruit and a dollop of cream, then put the top back on.

They also freeze well.

CREAM

I’m from England; cream means just cream.

I buy the best I can find – usually Strauss – a local organic dairy farm  – and whip it until it forms stiff peaks.

I do not add sugar or vanilla as I didn’t have that growing up and I prefer the contrast of the slightly sweet scone with the beautiful slightly tart flavors of the fruit and plain whipped cream.

I enjoy Devon Double Cream, Jersey Cream and Clotted Cream when I am in England but don’t think it’s worth paying “imported gourmet specialty” food prices here for something so simple when good local cream is available.

Be sure to avoid Bakers or Confectioners Cream, which is not the real thing and has preservatives and gelling agents and other nasty stuff added.

Variations on the Scone theme:  SAVORY SCONES

Follow the recipe as above, but:

Leave out the vanilla and almond extracts and the sugar.

Add Hungarian Sweet Paprika and some herbs if you like, to the flour mixture. Add about half a red pepper, diced, and 2 or 3 green onions/scallions, diced, and grated parmesan cheese to the butter/flour mixture before adding the buttermilk.

I decorate Savory Scones with grated parmesan and eat them with butter and cheese. Also great alongside a soup or stew, or in a buffet bread basket with cheeses, meats and vegetables.

APPLE GINGER SCONES

Follow the recipe as above, but:

I definitely include some organic cane sugar in this one for a little crunchy top.

I love ginger in any form; for this you can cut up some crystallized ginger and add it to the butter/flour mixture with some small chunks of peeled apple.

Eat these with butter.

CURRANT SCONES

You can also use this recipe to make the traditional favorite – adding a handful of currants (not raisins or sultanas) to the butter/flour mixture.

Traditionally eaten with jam (good preserves) and cream – or just good butter and jam.

WHAT I LIKE ABOUT THESE SCONES is that they are easy, delicious, and freeze well. Scones are best eaten fresh, but these do well toasted or warmed up in a toaster oven the next day – or whenever they come out of the freezer.

MISTAKES I HAVE MADE – adding too much almond extract ruins them; be so careful measuring that out. And burning them is not good. It’s easy if you have a timer; mine broke so I am watching the clock.

I only want to eat them myself very occasionally – flour, butter, baking powder – but your neighbors and friends and colleagues will love you when you show up with these!

By the way, we sold out at the Farmers Market!

Feeding People with Love

Tea & Good Company was born in 1998 while I was immersed in Julia Cameron’s book The Artist’s Way and doing my Morning Pages with my early tea. I thought, if I’m going to have 14 ideas every day before breakfast, why not choose one of them and see what it would take to manifest that in the outside world? And Tea was the simplest and most obvious one, that would never have occurred to me if I hadn’t been in that creative process. I loved tea, and I loved those Sunday afternoons at home in England when the extended family gathered in the drawing room to enjoy time together with a cup of tea and a spread!

I gave two tea parties to try it out. Each time I invited 50 people, a cross-section of my friends and co-workers, and each time 23 people came. So the first thing I learned was that people don’t know what RSVP actually means – details, details. I wanted to see if they would enjoy good quality black tea made in a pot with boiling water and all the traditional English afternoon tea and high tea favorites that go with it: little sandwiches, scones with jam and cream, cakes and biscuits (cookies), cold baked salmon with brown bread and butter and savory pastries hot from the oven.

They loved it!

I looked around at one point: I had carefully set tables and chairs all through the house, from the back garden onto the deck and through the living room to the enclosed wide front porch, so there would be room to spread out and be comfortable. But everyone was squeezed up, huddled together, totally absorbed in conversation, hanging on every word. They were inseparable, and these were people who had known each other, worked together, for years, but somehow had maybe never given themselves the time to kick back, relax and enjoy a conversation. I thought, We need this; this works.

The President of our local BPW (Business & Professional Women’s Association) encouraged me to take a spot at the annual Members Expo. I had a table and five minutes to present my vision to the group, and soon I was doing Tea Parties all over the county and in New York City – for individuals and associations, celebrations, art shows, award ceremonies, women’s wellness day, the local kite festival, weddings, showers, school fundraisers, you name it.

I put on a summer season of Sunday afternoon teas in a friend’s lovely garden with actors and speakers, poetry, humor and love. My daughter and her friends signed up to help and at the first rehearsal when they were all being casual, gum-chewing and hipslung Valley Girls, I said, “We’re doing Tea: Think ‘maid in a British film’ rather than ‘waitress in an American movie’,” and they got it immediately. The next summer, Sunday Afternoon Tea was hosted by a local hotel in conjunction with a music festival. And from there The Wild Duck Cafe was created to provide a place where people could gather with artists, healers and teachers to experience their work.

My original “mission statement” was: We are deeply committed to not doing dinner.  I never aspired to be a general caterer; my interest was in making real food, introducing people to tea, and feeding people with love.  People expressed, and I felt, so much joy at being served with love. Everything was hand-made (literally) and had to be made fresh on the day of the party. I flew across the Pond and went shopping with my sisters for some beautiful English china and table linens and tea and biscuits at English prices. I was never into antiques or fancy service; I didn’t like the word ‘gourmet’. For me, it was always about everyday functional art, drinking tea in a nice cup, and the joys of family, friendship and community.

I was living near a lake in a county of over 200 lakes, working in the local hospital. It was a beautiful place with lots of parking but nowhere to go. You could go out for dinner or for eggs, get pizza or a deli sandwich or a very nasty cup of coffee in a styrofoam cup at the gas station, but there was nowhere you could go to spend a couple of hours with a friend or with your journal and enjoy a good cup of tea in a beautiful setting – so that was my inspiration.