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So, What's This About Coffee "Cans," Reggie?

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Not too long ago, Dear Reader, I published a post about an early-nineteenth century gilt-decorated porcelain saucer that I described as being part of a coffee service.  In it, I said that we drink our coffee at Darlington House from what are correctly-termed "cans" and not "cups."  A number of my readers wrote to me and asked me to explain what I meant by that.  One or two even wondered, incredulously, did I mean we drink our coffee from the metal cans that coffee is sold in?

No, not at all, Dear Reader.  We do not drink our coffee from metal cans.  The "cans" I am referring to from which we drink our coffee are can-shaped cups, as shown in the following photograph:

The early-nineteenth century gilt-decorated
coffee service that started it all . . .

Can-shaped cups were the preferred form used in Western Europe for drinking coffee in the late-eighteenth and early-nineteenth centuries, at least among elegant people who could afford such things.

. . . this is a coffee can and not a coffee cup!

As many of us know (or at least those of us who have spent time looking into such matters know), the consumption of coffee as a beverage originated in Ethiopia in around 800 A.D., spread to Arabia around 1000 A.D., and then into Venice via Turkey in the early 1600s.  Once it arrived in Europe, the consumption of coffee quickly spread like wildfire into Holland, France, England, and ultimately America.  

A 1668 illustration showing a contemporary London coffee house
Photograph: Lordprice Collection/Alamy
Image courtesy of the Telegraph UK

By the 1700s coffee production had begun in the New World, first by the French on the island of Martinique and then in Brazil.  It was in Brazil that favorable growing conditions and industriousness soon began to produce the mammoth harvests that transformed coffee drinking from an indulgence of the privileged elite into the everyday drink of the average man.

An early-nineteenth century  depiction of a South American coffee harvest
Image courtesy of Coffee General

Not surprisingly, a complicated and (initially) codified system for drinking coffee emerged as the beverage gained popularity, and then ultimately eclipsed tea as the preferred drink of stimulation.  Craftsmen produced pots and cups that were designed expressly for holding coffee, and which are (and remain) readily distinguishable from those designed to hold tea.

An English mid-eighteenth century tea bowl and saucer

The first European-made tea cups were modeled on those produced in and imported from China, as seen in the bowl and saucer shown in the preceding photograph.  Such cups are correctly termed tea "bowls," because that is what they are—diminutive bowls.  Soon, though, tea bowls began to sprout handles to protect the fingers of the person(s) consuming tea from them from being scalded.

An early-nineteenth century English tea cup and saucer

When coffee entered upon the scene in Western Europe and the Americas it was initially drunk from the same bowls and cups as was tea.  Soon thereafter, however, a new form of cup was invented for the consumption of coffee.

The service comes with both tea cups and coffee cans!

It was shaped like a small canister, or a miniature version of the mugs used at the time to consume water and beer, and it is the form that is correctly known as a coffee can.  Over time such coffee cans lost their associated saucers and have since evolved into what is today known as a coffee mug, the popular vessel used for drinking coffee that can be found in nearly every kitchen cabinet today the world over, including ours at Darlington House.

A trio of English Spode coffee mugs from the 1980s
These are our "every day" coffee mugs at Darlington House

And with that, Dear Reader, I both conclude my little history lesson of the vessels used in the consumption of coffee and initiate a new series here on Reggie Darling—the Coffee Can of the Week!

I hope you like it . . .

All photographs (except where noted) are of cans, cups, bowls, and mugs in our collection at Darlington House, and were taken by Boy Fenwick


Reggie Out & About: Carey Maloney Book Signing

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Several weekends ago Boy and I attended a book signing party for Mr. Carey Maloney's just-published book "Stuff."  As many readers of this blog will know, Mr. Maloney is one of the principals of the celebrated M (Group), one of the top decorating firms based in Manhattan.  We had a lovely time.

Mr. Carey Maloney's Stuff
photograph by Boy Fenwick

The book signing party was held at Stair Galleries in Hudson, New York.  It was well attended by friends of Mr. Maloney and his partner in business and life, Hermes Mallea, and all the other usual suspects that one comes across at such events—socially engaged people from the worlds of the arts, design, and decoration, many of whom own weekend houses in the area.  Such description would include Reggie and Boy—well, at least Boy, who is decorator.  Not so much poor Reggie, who is one of those (supposedly awful) people who (still) works in the (apparently despicable) investment banking industry (at least what's left of it) that remains in the city.

The book signing party was held in the
principal exhibition space at Stair Galleries

But I digress . . .

Reggie rather enjoys attending book signing parties.  He appreciates the festivity of celebrating an author's output and all the hard work that has gone into creating a book, and he has fun speaking with friends and acquaintances at such events, and meeting new people, too.  Having one's copy of the book inscribed by the author at said event is an added bonus.  Book parties are both literary and fun!

Mr. Carey Maloney, hard at work signing copies of his book Stuff

That such parties often feature liberal pourings of wine and an abundancy of finger food is always appreciated, and usually means that those who attend (well, at least Reggie) tend to overstay to the very end, convivially yakking with friends and buying more copies of the book than they had intended to.

Well, I suppose that is the idea of such parties, now that I think of it . . .

The Jan Cowles Collection of (mostly) naughty boy photographs
was an added bonus to the festivities for many

Stair's galleries were filled with works scheduled for sale in upcoming auctions.  The main part of the exhibition spaces, where the party was held, was given over to contemporary art and furniture.  An adjoining space was devoted to vintage and contemporary photographs from the collection of Jan Cowles, mostly of handsome young men in varying states of undress and sporting come-hither poses.  Needless to say, the photographs were very popular among the party's attendees—and that applied not only to the men who would be expected to fancy such things, but to the women who do as well.

Ms. Cynthia Lambert and Ms. Jenny Baldwin
admiring the, um, prowess of a young matador
in Tina Barney's "The Dresser"
Estimated at $1,500-$2,500 it sold for $5,500

Now, on to Mr. Maloney's book.  It's marvelous!  "Stuff" is a visual delight, highly entertaining, and jam-packed with interesting information.  It stands in stark contrast to many of the amateurish decorating books being published these days, which, in Reggie's view, are little more than pretty pictures, breathless (and often ungrammatical) copy, and nincompoopish, informationless captions.

The well attended book signing party at full throttle

Since attending the party Reggie has spent numerous hours poring over Mr. Maloney's "Stuff," and enjoying its witty, well-written, information-filled prose, luxuriating in its gorgeous photographs, and happily studying its illuminating illustrations.  Not only that, but he laughed out loud several times at Mr. Maloney's somewhat zany, clever sense of humor.  "Stuff" is a book, Reggie believes, that others who are considering publishing a decorating book would be well-served to study and take lessons from.  

Mr. Hermes Mallea and Ms. Erika Clark
Reggie wrote a piece about attending
Mr. Mallea's own book signing party in November 2011

For "Stuff" is more than a collection of handsome pictures and thoughtful, well-informed prose, Dear Reader.  Its full title is "Stuff: The M (Group) Interactive Guide to Collecting, Decorating With, and Learning About Wonderful and Unusual Things."  And by "interactive" it means that one is able to download a free related app and (according to the author) "open up a wide world of information about each of the 40 Topic/Title folder pages" in the book, including links to "the greatest museum collections, the finest dealers, and the most illuminating research tools available online—Stuff to broaden your horizons."  But you'll need to buy the book in order to gain access to that app, Dear Reader, for Reggie isn't in the business of giving such things away for free here.

Our copy of Mr. Maloney's Stuff, as inscribed by the author

Reggie highly recommends that you acquire a copy of "Stuff" for your own library, as he has for his own.  He is confident that you will thank him when you do!

More information about "Stuff" can be found on the M (Group) website and also that of its publisher, Pointed Leaf Press.

Please note: Reggie has received nothing in return for publishing this essay (well, except for a couple glasses of plonk and some cheese and crackers), nor does he expect to.  He has written this piece for the sole purpose of entertaining his readers, which is why he writes this blog in the first place.

Except where noted, all photographs by Reggie Darling

Dinner at Donohue's Steak House

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I realized recently that it has been a long time since I've done a restaurant review here on Reggie Darling.  It's not that I haven't been going out to eat, Dear Reader, but rather I haven't felt all that compelled to write about the restaurants I've found myself in lately.  Don't get me wrong—they have (in most cases) been good restaurants, and in some cases they have been very good restaurants.  But each has lacked a certain, well, something to inspire me to take pen to paper (so to speak) and write about it.

Donohue's Steak House on busy stretch of Lexington Avenue
on New York's Upper East Side

That is until last week, when I had the good fortune to find myself tucking into a tasty dinner at Donohue's Steak House, located on Lexington Avenue in the East Sixties.  Donohue's is an intimately-scaled (some would say diminutive), old-fashioned chop and fish joint beloved by neighborhood regulars and others for its authentic, of-another-era, New York dining experience.

The bar scene as one enters Donohue's.
It is advisable to get there early in order to stake out a bar stool
among this crowd of hard drinking regulars

Donohue's keeps 'em coming by serving stiff drinks and straightforward, classic American fare that hasn't changed all that much since the Donohue family first opened the restaurant's doors in 1950.  The decor appears to date from then, too, with black, button-tufted vinyl upholstered booths, red table cloths, and black and white checkerboard floors.  I understand the interior has been refreshed over the years, but the Donohues have kept it true to how it originally looked.

Donohue's dining room, before the evening's rush.
Note tufted vinyl booths and paper place mats on red table cloths

Donohue's wood paneled walls are hung with landscapes of the "painted by a real artist" variety, along with a framed newspaper clipping or two about the restaurant dating from when Robert F. Wagner, Jr., was the city's mayor.

Donohue's is one of the breed of old-school, old-style, authentic American restaurants that are particular favorites of Reggie's, whose ranks have been sadly depleted in recent years.  It is cut from the same cloth as the late, lamented Gino's, which used to stand only a few blocks south of Donohue's on Lexington Avenue.  I am happy to report, Dear Reader, that Donohue's appears to be going like gangbusters these days.  I hope it remains popular and in business for many years to come.

Donohue's chalkboard menu says it all:
You can have it baked, roasted, sautéed, or broiled!

I first ate at Donohue's twenty five or so years ago, when I was taken there for dinner by my friends Preston and Digby, who lived (and still do) in the nearby Manhattan House apartment building.  It was with Preston and Digby that Boy and I dined there the night when I took the photographs for this story.

Chopped iceberg lettuce, cherry tomatoes, a
few shavings of carrot, and a
dollop of creamy blue cheese dressing
(liberal application of black pepper suggested!)

I remember being delighted during my first visit to Donohue's to find myself transported back to the "I Love Lucy" era, which even at the time (it was the late 1980s when I first went there) seemed impossibly long ago to me.  I loved it!

Please note sliced carrot and curly parsley garnish
accompanying Reggie's perfectly cooked prime sirloin steak

Not surprisingly, the food served at Donohue's—while very tasty and very satisfying—is honest, basic fare.  There's nothing fussy, frothy, or trendy about it, and that's just how its patrons like it.  I'd characterize the kitchen's output as a couple steps up from pub fare.  The restaurant's chalkboard menu pretty much sums it up, listing entrées of steak, pork chops, chicken-pot-pie, broiled fish, and broiled scallops.  You can get an order of lamb chops there, too.

The table's Holy Trinity of Heinz Ketchup,
Lea & Perrins Worcestershire Sauce,
and A.1. Steak Sauce

Donohue's entrées come with the expected sides of mashed, fried, or baked potatoes, or white rice.   You'd get a funny look if you asked for brown rice there.  Reggie wouldn't be surprised to learn that the vegetables served at Donohue's arrived on the premises frozen.  Mind you, Reggie is not complaining—he likes frozen peas!

The view of Donohue's dining room, looking towards
the front of the restaurant and bar

Part of the fun of going to Donohue's (as it is for any restaurant, for that matter) is the people watching.  As I mentioned before, Donohue's is popular destination for many who live in its UES neighborhood, any number of which have been regulars there for many years, and some of whom may even remember the restaurant from shortly after it opened.  It is not unusual to see several canes hanging among the coats there.  But not everyone sitting in Donohue's booths is a card-carrying member of AARP, Dear Reader, for the restaurant is a favorite of patrons under forty, too, who—like Reggie did when he was that age—appreciate the restaurant's strong drinks, hearty, reasonably-priced food, and "other era" charm.  Our friends Courtney and Lowell, who are probably one of the hippest young couples we know, are fans of Donohue's.

Leaving Donohue's, one is delighted by the multi-colored fairy lights
that decorate the bar area of the restaurant

One needn't be budget-minded to appreciate Donohue's, though.  I once saw David Rockefeller, who lives around the corner, eating dinner there one night.  And our friends Preston and Digby told us they had once seen Kitty Carlisle Hart dining there with Elinor Gordon, the subject of an earlier post of mine.  I once sat in the next booth to a young man who was at the time much in the news for having allegedly violated securities laws, and who was packed off to prison for it shortly thereafter!

A lingering last look back through Donohue's window.
Reggie rather loves the venetian blinds and the
DINING ROOM IN REAR painted on it

While Reggie is not what one would call a regular at Donohue's, he is always happy to find himself there dining with friends, and he always leaves it satisfied—liquored-up, contentedly full, and ready to totter off to bed.  For those among his readers who appreciate the pleasures of such old-school dining establishments, Reggie highly recommends it.


Please note, Reggie has received nothing in return for writing this review nor does he expect to in the future.  He is writing it solely for the pleasure of his readers, which is why he writes this blog in the first place.

All photographs by Reggie Darling

An Afternoon at the Bartow-Pell Mansion

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As should come as no surprise to his readers, Reggie rather enjoys visiting historic house museums.  He has happily done so his entire life, starting from when he was a boy growing up in Washington, D.C., a metropolis rich in historic house museums both within its boundaries and in the surrounding counties of Virginia and Maryland.

The front of the Bartow-Pell Mansion in Pelham Bay Park

Reggie visits historic houses because he appreciates the beauty of their architecture and contents, their historical significance, and the window they provide on how this country's elite lived in earlier times.  The decoration of such houses has, in some cases, informed Reggie's choices in furnishing his own residences.

The house has a large entrance hall with a
dramatic, sweeping staircase

This past weekend we found ourselves in Manhattan, again, instead of at our beloved Darlington House in the Hudson River Valley.  With a lazy two days ahead of us with no appointments or obligations we decided to visit a number of the city's historic house museums.

The hall was once heated by this
early nineteenth century iron stove

New York is blessed with (or burdened by, depending on who you are speaking with) a large collection of historic houses open to the public, many of which are located in its public parks.  Most are operated in tandem by the Historic House Trust of New York City and the City of New York Department of Parks & Recreation.

The north parlor of the house's grand double parlor

The Historic House Trust of New York City is a worthy, not-for-profit organization that provides essential support for houses of architectural and cultural significance that reside within the city's parks and that are open to the public.

The south parlor of the house's double parlor

The Trust has rescued many of the city's house museums from dereliction in recent years, a period in which the City's resources available for supporting such institutions has dwindled.  Reggie is most grateful that the Trust has stepped up to the plate to ensure the survival of these house museums.

Looking north through a doorway leading into
the south parlor and the north parlor beyond

Reggie encourages his readers to consider making a donation to the Historic House Trust of New York City (see link above), as it relies on support from the likes of Reggie and his fellow travelers.

An orangery designed by Delano & Aldrich and
added to the house by the International Garden Club
in the early twentieth century

Now, getting down to the inspiration for this posting.  The first house we visited during our city weekend was the Bartow-Pell Mansion Museum in Pelham Bay Park, in the Bronx.  It was an easy half hour's drive from the UES of Manhattan.

Mrs. Charles Frederick Hoffman, painted ca. 1930
(née Zelia Kumbhaar Preston)
Mrs. Hoffman was the founder and President of
the International Garden Club and
the Newport Garden Club, and
the rescuer of the Bartow-Pell Mansion

The Bartow-Pell Mansion sits on a handsome parcel of land facing east across Pelham Bay toward Long Island Sound.

A sitting room on the ground floor, opening off the main hall

The land on which the house stands was purchased by Thomas Pell in 1654 from the local Siwanoy Indians, and is at the core of what had once been the 10,000 acre Manor of Pelham.  

The house's dining room, with its table laid for dinner

Thomas Pell's nephew John Pell built a house near the site of the present mansion in 1671, in which four generations of Pells lived until the manor was divided shortly after the Revolutionary War.

Another view of the dining room.
What's for dinner?

In 1836, Pell family descendant Robert Bartow, a well-connected, wealthy publisher and printer from New York City, purchased part of the original manor and built a grand house in the then fashionable Greek Revival style.  The imposing gray stone house is composed of a three-storey main block flanked by two wings, and is what is today known as the Bartow-Pell Mansion.

Let's go upstairs and see what's up there!

When the house was built the surrounding area was bucolic and undeveloped save for a number of other large country estates belonging to the city's elite.  The house stood among pastureland, orchards, and lawns sloping down to Pelham Bay.

Contrary to what many people think, such
niches were not meant to allow for carrying coffins
downstairs, but rather to hold statues as shown here

The Bartows divided their time between their country house and a townhouse in Manhatttan, where they spent the cooler months of the year.  Mr Bartow and his wife, the former Maria Lorillard, had seven children.

An early nineteenth century Bartow family
needlework mourning picture

The house remained in the Bartow family for fifty years, by which time the area was no longer as desirable as it once had been for those seeking the serenity and quietude of country estate living.
  
A view into the upstairs family sitting room

In 1888 the Bartow's children sold the estate to the City of New York as part of the new Pelham Bay Park.  The house and its grounds entered into a period of neglect and decay.

The quality of the textiles, upholstery,
and carpets used throughout the house
is impressive

In 1914, the good ladies of the International Garden Club* adopted the mansion as their clubhouse, ensuring its survival at a time when neighboring estates were being demolished.
  
Another view of the upstairs sitting room
(Reggie admits he snuck across the barrier to take this photograph)

The Garden Club commissioned the architectural firm of Delano & Aldrich to modernize sections of the house and to restore its Greek Revival details.  

The supremely elegant master bedroom, with bedstead attributed
to Charles-Honoré Lannuier

In 1916 the Garden Club installed an elegant walled and terraced garden behind the house, leading out to lawns and fields sloping down to Pelham Bay.  

One of the house's secondary bedrooms

Further plans to establish an array of formal gardens were interrupted by the onset of World War I, and were never completed.  The Club hired landscape architect Ellen Biddle Shipman to redesign the gardens in 1927.

Another secondary bedroom, with freshly laid sea grass matting on the floor

In 1936, during one of the hottest summers on record, Mayor Fiorello H. La Guardia moved his staff north of the city to the house, and directed his affairs of the City from a telephone bank installed in the basement.

The rear facade of the house showing the handsome ironwork balcony
original to the house

Ten years later, in 1946, the International Garden Club opened the Bartow-Pell Mansion to the public as a house museum.

A late winter's view out over the terraced gardens in the rear of the house.
Pelham Bay (and the Pelham Bay Parkway) can be glimpsed in the distance

Today, the interiors have been thoughtfully and carefully restored to an approximation of their 19th century appearance.

Looking back towards the house from the terraced garden

A dramatic, free-standing spiral staircase rises from the house's entrance hall, connecting parlors and the dining room on the ground floor with the family and staff bedrooms above.  Mahogany doors open onto spacious double parlors on the ground floor with handsome carved marble fireplaces and tall windows that look out onto the elegant, terraced garden.  The house includes a large, Colonial Revival style orangery that was added by the Garden Club during the Delano & Aldrich renovation.

The front facade of the house showing its original
second storey iron balconies.  It is missing the shutters
that once hung on its windows.
(Reggie would prefer it if there wasn't so much asphalt
covering the ground in front of the house...)

The Bartow-Pell Mansion's interiors are beautifully furnished with period antique furniture made by New York City's most noteworthy cabinetmakers of the early nineteenth century, including examples from the workshops of Duncan Phyfe, Charles-Honoré Lannuier, and Michael Allison, among others.

A view of the front of the Bartow-Pell Mansion, ca. 1870
Image courtesy of the City of N.Y. Department of Parks & Recreation

Furniture, decorations, and art have been donated to the house museum and also loaned to it by the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Museum of the City of New York.

The empty decorative niche in the facade
of the front of the house

The Bartow-Pell Mansion is listed on the National Register of Historic Places, and is both a National Landmark and a New York City Landmark.

The estate's coach house, built in 1842, was not open
the day Reggie visited the Bartow-Pell Mansion

The house and gardens are still operated by the International Garden Club.

The sign at the entrance gates to the
Bartow-Pell estate

Reggie enjoyed visiting the Bartow-Pell Mansion and its gardens, and he encourages his readers to visit the estate as well.  Doing so provides a unique opportunity to take in a rare survivor of refined and elegant country house living by members of the city's highest elite during the middle decades of the nineteenth century.

* Reggie has not been able to find any information about the International Garden Club, beyond what is contained on the Bartow-Pell Mansion's website.  He would be most grateful to any of his readers who know more about the Club if they would share it with him and his readers.

A special thanks to the Bartow-Pell Mansion Museum & Gardens and the Historic House Trust of New York City.  Reggie has consulted and relied on resources published by both entities in this posting.

Except where noted, all photographs by Reggie Darling and Boy Fenwick.

Reggie in Paris and on Facebook

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Dear Reader,
Reggie has been on holiday in Paris this week, and has been posting about it on his Facebook page.


If you haven't "friended" me on Facebook yet, I encourage you to do so, as I would enjoy sharing my exploits in the City of Light (among my other FB musings) with you.  You can find me on Facebook here.

Yours ever so,
Reggie

Photograph of Les Invalides at twilight by Reggie Darling

Easter In Paris, Part I

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As readers of this blog and Reggie's friends on FaceBook will know, I have just returned from a delightful holiday in Paris.  While I was there I was enchanted by the decorations of the city's store windows, dressed in anticipation of Easter.  I took a number of photographs of my favorites while I was there, Dear Reader, along with snaps of other things that caught my fancy.  Today's post, the first in a two-part series, features a selection of those images.  I hope you like it.


I was rather taken by this charming display of chocolate eggs, bunnies, chicks, and bonbons in the window of a confiseur.  (Please note adorable, evil little child in green jacket . . .)


Paris is justifiably famous for its flower stores.  I was thrilled by these beautiful lavender roses.


As I was amused by this carton of white, milk, and dark chocolate eggs.  So clever!


The windows of Meert, in the Marais, featured a lovely selection of foil-covered chocolate eggs.  So pretty!


I loved this "mod" Easter display in one window.  The white metal stand is at least two feet tall!


What little girl wouldn't love a present of this pretty dress-up frock?


The windows of Les Marquise de Ladurée on the Place Vendôme featured enormous chocolate eggs, topped with chocolate ribbons.  The insides of each include a tower of macarons.  I was wild about them.


Of course seeing all those chocolate eggs made one long for the real thing, too.  Fortunately, one was able to do have them at breakfast at Les Ambassadeurs at the Hôtel de Crillon one morning.


Another window at Les Marquise de Ladurée.  I think the French really do the most marvelous store displays imaginable.


Although the weather was relatively balmy when we were in Paris, there were one or two evenings when any lady visiting the city would have appreciated slipping into this elegant cream mink coat that we saw in a window on the Rue de Faubourg Saint-Honoré.  Perfect for spring, non?


These topiary trees laden with oranges seen on the sidewalk one day made me long to have an orangery at Darlington House!


There were many temptations at La Grand Epicerie de Paris at le Bon Marché Rive Gauche, including this table of cellophane-wrapped chocolates.


This little lamb is actually a powder sugar-dusted cake.  What will they think of next?


Perhaps "they" will think of coating these chocolate eggs with butter cream candy decorations, as this chocolatier did?


Or why not blow out the yolks of real eggs and fill the shells with chocolate ganache?  I almost fainted when I saw these!


The Easter flower display in the lobby of the Hotel George V was suitably restrained.  So chic.


Can you believe the crazy whimsy of these stuffed bunnies and lamb at Deyrolle?  I loved them!


After all that visual excitement, I thought I might need a piece of this Tarte Cocktail to calm my nerves.


Better yet, I think I shall sit down in this elegant fauteuil, collect myself, and plot out where I shall go next.  Champagne is definitely in order . . .

Next: Easter in Paris, Part II

All photographs by Reggie Darling




Easter in Paris, Part II

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Today's post is the second, and final, installment of my two part series of photographs taken in Paris during the week leading up to Easter.  I hope you like it.


One of the places my seemingly never-ending search for champagne took me to was Le Vaudeville Brasserie, recommended by Nick Nicholson for its over-le-top Art Deco interiors.  We were not disappointed!  Not only did we find the sought-after flutes of champagne there, but we also found what we considered to be the best oysters we ate in Paris, and this marvelous, exuberant bouquet of cherry blossoms towering over the main dining room.


We admired the zen-like serenity of this chocolatier's window in the Carré Rive Gauche, nestled among the antiques shops the area is known for.  It's so French it's almost Japanese!


I stopped at this tiny flower shop on the Rue du Bac because I thought it was terribly clever to scatter the discarded petals of the roses for sale there onto the sidewalk instead of sweeping them up and away.  So pretty.


One was rather taken by this chocolate egg in the window of Les Marquis de Ladurée on the Place Vendôme featuring a cameo of Marianne of France.


More chocolate eggs seen in another chocolatier's window, this time wrapped with springlike green and chartreuse bows.


These pâte des fruits were the perfect ending to a lovely luncheon at le Grand Véfour, one of the oldest and most beautiful restaurants in Paris.


One does not see such flower stores here in New York outside of the city's (fast-dwindling) flower district.  In Paris they seem to be at every turn!


Looking up into the Dôme des Invalides takes one's breath away.


I'm convinced the French have cornered the world's market in the creation of pretty confections.


What Easter would be complete without bunnies cavorting about, as these ones are at Deyrolle?


Shelves and shelves of chocolate eggs, bunnies, chickens, and ducks wrapped with orange bows!


Speaking of eggs, while visiting the sublime Musée Nissim de Camondo, I finally learned how to use one of those French copper bowls made for whipping egg whites.  As can be seen in the photograph, the trick for stabilizing the round bottom of the bowl is to nestle it in a ring made of kitchen towel.  This was an "ah-ha!" moment for Reggie!


Paris is full of musical offerings during the Easter season.  We chanced upon an impromptu concert when visiting Eglise Saint-Sulpice early one evening.


I got yelled at by the security guard at the Hermès flagship store on the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré for taking pictures, including this one of gorgeous flowers on display there.


One was able to console one's grief with cocktails and sandwiches later that evening at le Bar 228 at Hotel le Meurice.  I encourage you to read my FaceBook posting on that little episode, as I think you may find it amusing.


Just as on Madison Avenue here in New York, there is always a line to get into Ladurée's flagship store in Paris.  We were luckier at the Ladurée outpost in Saint-Germain.


Flowers and motorcycles are often seen together in Paris!


We thought this diamond and pearl tiara from the French crown jewels displayed at the Louvre was rather fetching.


But, to be honest, one preferred the more accessible rose-flavored cocktail in the bar at Hôtel le Bristol.  It was delicious, and a perfect "pick-me-up" during an afternoon of taking in the sights.


What trip to France would be complete without pausing to admire topiary-filled Versailles planters in the Jardin des Tuileries?


Or a visit to Cathédral Notre-Dame de Paris?  We were fortunate to find an evensong service in process there when we stopped in.  The singing was magical.  Of course one stood a respectful distance at the rear of the cathedral when taking this image.

And with that, Dear Reader, I conclude our whirlwind tour of Paris at Easter.  I hope you liked it.

All photographs by Reggie Darling

Reggie's Five Favorites: Dining In Paris, Part I

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My original intention, Dear Reader, was to have this be a single post on the five restaurants we enjoyed dining in the most during our visit to Paris.  However, to spare you the tedium of reading a long-winded, endless post on same, I figured it made most sense—and was more manageable—if I were to split it into two separate posts, and I do so herewith.  I hope you like them.

Well, one could hardly write a compilation of one's five favorite restaurants in Paris (having only just been there a week or so), now could one?  However, since I am always interested in other people's recommendations for places to dine when I am planning a trip, I thought I'd share with you, Dear Reader, the five restaurants we enjoyed eating in the most during our all-too-short visit to the City of Light.  Perhaps you might find your way to one of them on your next visit that fair city . . .

André Allard—Old school neighborhood bistro favored by those in the know

The unobtrusive facade of André Allard

It is all-too-easy to pass by the doors of André Allard in the busy Saint-Germain district.  Unlike many of its neighbours, Allard doesn't make a flashy effort to rein in the tourists flocking to the area.  That's because Allard doesn't have to.

The Lilliputian front dining room at Allard, a favorite of Pierre Bergé

The restaurant's tables are packed nightly with Parisian regulars and knowledgeable visitors who return to it again and again for its delicious, lusty bistro fare and its classic early twentieth-century decor, carefully retained by its owners.

One enters Allard with a view right into the kitchen, where
its chefs are busily at work preparing the evening's meals

We stumbled into Allard by chance one rainy night, and I can only wish that such serendipity would smile upon us more often.  We agreed our dinner there that evening—starting with a salad of mâche with beets followed by a dreamy roasted Cuisses de Lapin—was one of the best we could remember.

We enjoyed Allard so much that we returned to it but two evenings later, when I was fortunate to order the most delicious Quoquilles Saint-Jacques I have ever eaten in my life.  It was only with the greatest of willpower that Reggie refrained from picking up his plate at the end of his meal to lick it clean.  I'm not exaggerating!

The convivial main dining room at André Allard

How could I be surprised, then, when I learned afterwards from the divine Diane Dorrans Saeks that she adores Allard as well, and that Pierre Bergé is apparently such an appreciator of Allard's charms that he has a standing reservation there every Sunday night during white asparagus season to dine on the delicacy that Allard is known to cook to perfection.

André Allard
41 Rue Saint-Andre des Arts
75006 Paris
+33 1 43 26 48 23

Restaurant Le Voltaire—Expensive, yummy comfort food for the well-heeled club set


I'd never eaten at Le Voltaire before this trip to Paris, but we did so at the recommendation of a number of swell friends who know about such things.  And I am certainly glad we did, Dear Reader, for our dinner at Voltaire was Heaven!

The golden glow of Le Voltaire's main dining room—the inner sanctum

Le Volatire is the Swifty's of Paris, a cosy clubroom for members of the city's well-tended and well-heeled beau monde, who make a beeline to the restaurant's elegant rooms for its yummy, easy-to-eat fare, perfect service, and the (very) flattering lighting it is known for.

The front dining room at Le Voltaire

Carine Roitfeld, the former editor of Vogue Paris, was sitting two tables over from us the night we dined in Voltaire's elegant, velvet banquetted, inner dining room.  Lee Radziwill chose Voltaire to have dinner with Nicky Haslam the day he interviewed her for the much-commented upon, recent piece in the New York Times' T Magazine.  You get the idea . . .

Le Voltaire's fabulous frites

Bold face names among the restaurant's happy diners notwithstanding, we found the experience of dining at Voltaire a delight.  It helped that we were accompanied the evening we did so by a ravishing young lady whose lovely presence repeatedly turned every admiring head in the room, and whose presence ensured that we received the best service possible!

Note line for cigarettes on the bill . . .

After a busy day spent visiting the antiquaires of the Carré Rive Gauche, we were all in a bœuf-eating mood, and—after tucking into a delicious avocado and red grapefruit salad to start with—the three of us ordered the restaurant's excellent Filet de Bœuf Frites, followed by the house's signature Mousse au Chocolat served ceremoniously by the waiter from a large bowl at table.  Divine!

You can be sure, Dear Reader, that Le Voltaire will be on my short list of restaurants to return to when I next find myself in Paris.

Le Voltaire
27 Quai Voltaire
75007 Paris
+33 1 42 61 17 49

Le Grand Véfour—Superb haute cuisine served with flourish and all the trimmings in one of the most beautiful, historic rooms in the western world

Le Grand Véfour—discretely tucked away
in the passages of the Palais Royal

I first chanced upon Le Grand Véfour as a teenager, on a school-sponsored trip to Paris.  I came across the legendary restaurant, which I subsequently learned was one of Paris' most storied, one afternoon while strolling through the Palais Royal, and was immediately and memorably taken with it.

The sublimely beautiful main dining room at Le Grand Véfour

Peering through the restaurant's windows at the time I was enchanted by the lovely, luxe interior I glimpsed within.  I remember thinking that I would be thrilled to return to Véfour one day and dine there when I was older and could afford such things.

Véfour's cheese trays—the most beautiful Reggie has ever seen!
(Goat' s milk cheeses on the left/cow's milk cheeses on the right)

While I have been to Paris numerous times in the intervening years, I had never had the foresight to make the necessary advanced arrangements to dine at Véfour.  This trip, however, I was more organized in my planning and I booked a table there for us to have lunch.

The restaurant's triumphal procession of presentation!

It was a memorable afternoon, indeed—featuring course after delectable course (including one of the most spectacular cheese selections I've ever seen) of the most delicious food imaginable (and, needless to say, much champagne), finished off with a dizzying, seemingly never-ending shower of confections and sweets.

Vefour's pretty Pâte des Fruits
but one of the many sweets
served at the conclusion of our meal

Not only is the food at Le Grand Véfour splendid and what dreams are made of, but the level of service at the restaurant is equally awe-inspiring.  Watching the maître d's, sommeliers, waiters, and waiters' assistants' highly-ordered ritual dance of presentation and service was like witnessing a grand corps de ballet in all its perfection.  And yes, Dear Reader, the rooms truly are beautiful, and even more beautiful in person than photographs could ever capture.

Le Grand Véfour
17 Rue de Beaujeolais
Palais Royal
75001 Paris
+33 1 42 96 56 27

Next: Reggie's Five Favorites: Dining In Paris, Part II—Café de L'Esplanade, Restaurant Paul, and more . . .

All photographs by Reggie Darling

Reggie's Five Favorites: Dining in Paris, Part II

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This is the second part of a two-part series on the five restaurants in Paris we enjoyed eating in the most during our holiday there in the week leading up to Easter.  I hope you will consider finding your way to one or more of them during your next visit to the City of Light.  If you do so, Dear Reader, please raise a glass to dear old Reggie.

Le Café de l'Esplanade—Chic, of-the-moment café serving an Asian influenced take on the French classiques

The exterior of Le Café de l'Esplanade

One evening, while en route to a different restaurant, we chanced to walk by Café de l'Esplanade.  We were intrigued by its glamorous exterior, with its black facade, white awnings, and café chairs lighted with large black and gilt carriage lanterns.  This was worth a closer look, we thought . . .

The view though the window into the interior of l'Esplanade

Peering through the windows, we saw a dramatic, beautifully-lighted, theatrical interior.  "We must eat here!" we exclaimed (because for us a restaurant's decor is almost as important as the quality of its food).  We slipped through the door, took one of their cards, and made a reservation there for lunch the following day.

The main dining room, a series of enfilades

Café de l'Esplanade takes its name from the Esplanade des Invalides, which it overlooks from its location at the corner of Rue Fabert and Rue de Grenelle in the swell 7th arrondissement.

Of course one must begin one's luncheon
with flutes of pink champagne!

l'Esplanade is an "of-the-moment" place that draws an attractive, well-heeled clientele from the surrounding area, augmented the day we ate lunch there with expensively-dressed business people from the nearby offices.

New York isn't the only city where most of the inhabitants wear black

The restaurant's super-stylish, Napoleon III-infused decor takes its inspiration from the nearby Les Invalides—a complex of magnificent buildings built by Louis XIV and dedicated to celebrating the military history and glories of France.  l'Esplanade's main dining room is a series of enfilades separated by gilt arches with columns in the form of cannons, and chandeliers made to resemble clusters of cannon balls.  So chic!  The originals are found but steps away on the grounds of Les Invalides.

A welcome break from the national cuisine

The food at l'Esplanade is delicious, and more than lives up to the restaurant's marvelous decor.  It features an international menu that includes dishes inspired by those found as far away as Vietnam and closer to home, too.  I started with a delicious appetiser of spring rolls (one of the house's signature dishes) and happily tucked into a lobster and tomato pasta that had more lobster meat in it than I knew what to do with.  I couldn't finish it!  Rest assured, Dear Reader, one can also find the French classiques there, as I espied a nearby table dining on one of the most beautifully-presented steak frites I have ever seen.

Oh, now I get it!

When it came time for coffee, I was not surprised to find the accompanying paper roll of sugar was printed with the word "Costes," given the restaurant's chic interior, eclectic menu, and superb service.  The waiter confirmed that l'Esplanade is indeed part of the Costes Group, famous for its glamorous hotel on the other side of the river favored by movie stars, moguls, fashionistas and late-night denizens of the demimonde.

Le Café de l'Esplanade
52 Rue Fabert
75007 Paris
+33 1 47 05 38 80

Restaurant Paul—Tasty traditional bistro fare in a storied location

The facade of Restaurant Paul
overlooking the Place Dauphine

Restaurant Paul is a charming, quintessentially Parisian bistro tucked away on the Île-de-la-Cité that serves dependably delicious fare of the sort that would have more than appealed to members of the Bon Appetit! generation, and still does in spades to those who beat a path to its doors today.

The front room and bar at the entry of Restaurant Paul

I first ate at Restaurant Paul thirty years ago, and I make a point of returning to it every time I visit Paris.  The grand-mère who once presided over the register up front has long since been replaced by a younger, more winsome host (as has the register been replaced by a laptop), but the food remains dependably tasty, old school bistro fare, and just right.

A sublime first meal in Paris

I enjoyed settling into Paul's comfortable embrace during our first lunch in Paris, when I dined on a highly satisfying meal of oeuf mayonnaise followed by a perfectly roasted halibut served with spinach and sauce hollandaise.  Restaurant Paul is the ideal place to stop into for an unhurried lunch when visiting the nearby Cáthedrale Notre Dame or Sainte-Chapelle, or any of the other surrounding sights for that matter.

Looking out into the back room at Restaurant Paul.  In the "old days,"
when Reggie first dined there, the waitresses wore uniforms, unlike
the young woman in the white sweater who was reciting the day's specials

Restaurant Paul is also just far enough off the beaten path (if you can believe it, given its location) that it is mostly filled during weekdays with regulars from the surrounding courts and law offices, rather then tourists.  If you request a table in the back dining room—seen through the archway in the above photograph—you will be assured of a memorable view out the windows of boat traffic on the Siene.  It doesn't get any more Parisian than that!

Restaurant Paul
15 Place Dauphine
75001 Paris
+33 1 43 54 2148

Please note, Reggie has received nothing in return for these reviews and he doesn't expect to.  He is sharing them with you, Dear Reader, for the sheer pleasure of doing so, which is why he writes this blog in the first place.

All photographs by Reggie Darling

Reggie's Rules for the Considerate Management of One's Presence When Riding In Elevators

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Dear Reader, I realize that it has been rather a long time since I last posted a Reggie's Rules piece.  It's not that I haven't been planning or formulating any such posts, mind you, but rather other subjects have taken the forefront of one's consciousness of late.

"I hear my cellphone ringing!  Should I
answer it, or wait until I've gotten off the elevator?"
Image courtesy of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer

However, something so egregious happened the other evening while your sainted author was riding on an elevator that it has caused him to reconsider his temerity on such matters, and thus resume this series, post-haste.  I cannot remain a stoic silence any longer!  Rules are rules, Dear Reader, and must not only be understood, but also obeyed!

What? you might ask—is there anyone left on the planet who does not understand the rudiments of riding on elevators?  How hard can it be?  Surely this cannot be the case, Reggie, as Mr. Otis perfected said vehicle of efficient vertical travel more than 150 years ago!

"No more passengers!  Step to the rear please!"
Source: LIFE Images

Well, one would have hoped the Young Miss who I had the misfortune of sharing an elevator with several evenings ago in the building where I live would have known better than to loudly carry on a tiresome personal conversation on her cellphone for all (notably Reggie) to unwillingly (and begrudgingly) overhear.  Not only was she complainingly blabbing into her cellphone while a group of us assembled to wait for an elevator in the building's lobby, but our Young Miss carried on her tedious conversation while entering the elevator and throughout the journey (but at a higher decibel rate so the person on the other end of the line could hear her better), and continued her honking without pausing for so much as a breath of air upon exiting the elevator and walking down the hall to her apartment.  Those of us who remained on the elevator after her (blessed) departure looked at each other with a mixture of relief and irritation once the doors closed, and agreed that our Young Miss was a thoughtless cretin, indeed.  My only consolation for her rude behavior, Dear Reader, is that it was the inspiration for this edition of Reggie's Rules, for which I owe said annoying cellphone blatherer a debt of gratitude (and a sharp rebuke, I might add, should I ever be subjected to her rude behavior again).

And with that I now share Reggie's Rules for the Considerate Management of One's Presence When Riding in Elevators:

1. When waiting for an elevator, stand to the side so those exiting it may do so unimpeded

It is inconsiderate to block their path by standing in front of the doors, which requires those exiting to "excuse me" their way around you.

Courteous elevator lobby behavior is to be encouraged and emulated!
source: LIFE Images

2. When waiting for an elevator, allow those wishing to exit the elevator to do so first before barging in

It is basic good manners to allow them to do so, and eases the flow of traffic.

3. When entering a crowded elevator, say "excuse me" when seeking to find a space

Do not shove your way in, it is not a subway car at rush hour.

"Sorry, Pal, no more room here.  Would ya
 mind waitin' fer the next one, please!"
Image courtesy of United Artists

4. When seeking to enter a crowded elevator, use common sense and judgement in determining whether there is sufficient space to enter it.  Wait for the next one if there isn't

Again, elevators are not subway cars.  Another will come along soon enough.

5. While it is considered polite under certain circumstances to allow ladies to first enter and exit elevators, it is technically not a requirement to do so  

Elevators are akin to stairs and escalators in this consideration—efficiency of movement trumps precedence of the sexes, particularly during busy times of day such as morning and evening rushes, or during lunchtime.  When a crowd of men and women are waiting for an elevator, it is in the best interest of all concerned to resort to a first-come-first-served precedence in order to aide the efficient movement of people on and off the elevator.  On the other hand, if a single man or pair of men and a solitary woman are waiting for an elevator, it is common courtesy for the man/men to allow the lady to enter and exit the elevator first.  Use judgement in such matters.

6. When entering or exiting an elevator in an office building or store, it is not necessary to verbally acknowledge the other people on the elevator, unless one already knows them or the elevator is being run by an elevator operator (a great rarity these days, but it still happens in such places as the flagship store of Tiffany & Company in New York)

When riding in elevators in such buildings one should only feel compelled to acknowledge fellow riders one already happens to know (such as a fellow employee or acquaintance), or the elevator operator, since one is expected to inform said operator of the desired floor.  While it is not improper to acknowledge other riders in a public elevator, Dear Reader (particularly if one has made eye contact upon entering said elevator), it is not a requirement to do so.  Again, use judgement in such matters.

"Which way is up, baby?"
Image courtesy of United Artists

7. When entering or exiting an elevator in an apartment building, one should always politely acknowledge the other people on the elevator with a simple "good morning" or "good evening"

Particularly if they live in the same building as you do.  Have some manners, please!

8. Prior to entering an elevator, should you be speaking to someone on a cellphone, end the call with a simple "I'll call you back later, I'm getting on an elevator"

Do not keep up your cellphone conversation while riding an elevator.  It is rude and thoughtless to those who are trapped listening to you (and this applies to you, too, Young Miss!).

"Help! Get me out of here!  She won't stop talking on her cellphone!"
Image courtesy of Universal Pictures

9. Should your cellphone ring when you are preparing to enter an elevator or are riding upon one, either do not answer it, or tell the caller that you will ring them back afterwards

For the same reason as noted in 8, above.

10. When riding a crowded elevator with a loved one, spouse, or friend, do not carry on a personal conversation, but rather wait to resume it once you've exited the elevator

Similar to cell phone conversations, the other passengers on the elevator are not deaf.  You are not riding in a cone of silence!

11. When riding an elevator while listening to music on headphones or ear plugs, do not have the volume turned up to such a high level that others riding in the elevator are forced to listen to the music as well

For the same reasons as in rules 8, 9, and 10.

This woman knows that it is best to wait to speak on
one's telephone until after one has completed one's elevator journey
Image courtesy of Paramount Pictures

12. When riding an elevator with a pet dog (or child for that matter) do not allow it to lunge at the other riders in the car

It can alarm them.  Restrain your dog (or child) for the duration of the ride, please.

And last (but certainly not least):

13. When riding an elevator, one should do one's utmost not to perfume the air with one's flatulent gases, a practice vulgarly (but aptly) known as "crop dusting"

While it may be a relief (and even a source of amusement) for the perpetrator, it is inconsiderate to those who have the misfortune to involuntarily share in such aroma.

And there you have it, Dear Reader, Reggie's Rules for the Considerate Management of One's Presence When Riding in Elevators.

Tell me, do you have any good elevator stories?

An Afternoon at King Manor

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After having spent a most enjoyable visit at the Bartow-Pell Mansion in the Bronx, Boy and I decided to fire up the family jalopy again and drive out to the far reaches of Jamaica, Queens, to explore King Manor, another one of New York City's historic house museums.

The approach to King Manor, located in Rufus King Park, Jamaica, Queens

King Manor is named after the Honorable Rufus King (1755-1827), a signer of the U.S. Constitution, a senator from the State of New York, the nation's first Ambassador to Great Britain, a land owner, and a gentleman farmer.  The house sits in Rufus King Park, an eleven-acre public space in what is today a working class residential and commercial stretch in Queens, New York.  The house is about a forty-minute drive from the UES.
   

Rufus King and his wife, Mary Alsop, purchased an eighteenth-century farmhouse with ninety acres in 1805, and they spent the next twenty years improving and enlarging the house and property, which today is known as King Manor.  The Kings also maintained a townhouse in Manhattan, where they lived during the colder months of the year, when they weren't in residence in Washington, D.C., or London.

An etching of the the Rufus King Manor
Jamaica, New York, ca. 1930
Image courtesy of Keith Sheridan Fine Art

By the time of Rufus King's death in 1827 the house had grown to twenty-nine rooms and sat in an estate of one hundred and twenty-two acres of gardens, fields, orchards, and forest.  Subsequent generations of the King family lived in the Manor until 1888, when the house and much of its contents, along with eleven acres of land, were sold to the city of Jamaica.  The property came under the jurisdiction of the New York City Department of Parks & Recreation in 1898.

King Manor in 1950
Image courtesy of N.Y. City Department of Parks & Recreation

Within several years of King Manor being sold, houses and apartment buildings were built around the park's periphery.  Today the surrounding area is a combination of small apartment buildings and two-family houses, and large municipal buildings.  

The view across Jamaica Avenue, looking to the west

The entry to King Manor is from Jamaica Avenue, a busy thoroughfare that follows what had originally been a trail (known as the Yamecah Trail) established by the area's Lenape Native Americans long before Europeans colonized these shores.  The English, who took control of the area from the Dutch in the 1680s, named it Jameco, which was later changed to Jamaica.  There is no link between this part of Queens and the island in the Caribbean of the same name; that they share a name in common is entirely coincidental.

The view across Jamaica Avenue, looking to the east

Today there is little left on Jamaica Avenue from the time when the Kings lived in their house.  In the above photograph one can make out two towers of a brownstone Gothic Revival church standing between two hulking municipal buildings.  According to the young woman who gave us a tour of the house, it was in this church that the King family worshipped.  Well, sort of.  Reggie has since learned that the church shown in the photograph, Grace Episcopal, was built in 1862, and is the third church to stand on the site of an earlier church that Rufus King had built in 1822, which itself was a replacement of yet an earlier church building.  So, while Rufus King did not worship in this particular church building, his descendants would likely have done so when in residence.

The view into Rufus King Park from the rear of the house

Rufus King Park, which spreads out around and behind King Manor, is popular with and heavily used by residents of the surrounding area.  There were a lot of people in it the day we visited the house, running around and playing soccer and other ball games.

Architectural rendering of front elevation for the 1984
restoration of King Manor by Gibson Bauer Associates
Image courtesy of King Manor Association

King Manor underwent an extensive and careful restoration in the 1980s, and today the house is well cared for by the New York City Department of Parks and Recreation, with financial and other support from the worthy non-profit Historic House Trust of New York City.  King Manor is not one of the city's most popular historic house museums, given its location and the relative obscurity today of its once celebrated owners.  We were the only visitors to the house the afternoon we made our journey there.

An early twentieth-century postcard of King Manor.  Its Victorian
buff-and-brown paint scheme survived into the 1950s
Image courtesy of King Manor Association

In researching this post I came across numerous images of King Manor from different eras.

By the 1960s, the era of this postcard, the house was
painted white, with black shutters.  Note foundation plantings
and colorful flowerbeds full of annuals
Image courtesy of King Manor Association

It is interesting to see how the house and landscape evolved over the years, reflecting the changing tastes of the times and advances in historic restoration knowledge.

The house today, as painted in a scheme from the 1980s
restoration.  The foundation plantings are gone.

So, let's go inside and look around, shall we?

The main hall of the house features a handsome
Federal staircase with a mahogany banister

What strikes one when entering King Manor is that it is not a particularly "fine" house with articulated moldings or plasterwork that one would expect to see in a city house of its size.  It is a large country house that has been expanded over the years, and it functioned both as the seat of a family of consequence and as the hub of a large working farm.  The King's townhouse in Manhattan would have been a more refined dwelling, I believe.  King Manor's principal rooms are large and well proportioned, and overall the house is quite pleasant.  Were it not for the urban surroundings it sits in today, one could easily imagine living in it (assuming one had the substantial wherewithal required to do so).

The front parlor contains a marble fire-surround installed by the Kings
and a few pieces of Federal-period furniture

King Manor is only minimally furnished, and many of its secondary rooms have been set up as teaching installations, focusing on Rufus King's political activities.

Rufus King portrait by Gilbert Stuart, ca. 1820
Image courtesy of the National Portrait Gallery

A copy of a portrait of Rufus King by Gilbert Stuart hangs in the house's front parlor.  The original is in the collection of the National Portrait Gallery in Washington, D.C.  Here is how the NPG describes the sitter on its website:
"Rufus King was one of the last of the Founding Fathers. A delegate from Massachusetts to the Continental Congress, an active framer of the Constitution, minister to Great Britain, opponent of the War of 1812, senator from New York, and the Federalist Party's last candidate for the presidency (overwhelmingly defeated by James Monroe in 1816), King had a public career that extended through the administrations of the first six presidents of the United States. His portrait was painted in 1819-20, a time when he tried to rouse opposition to the admission of Missouri as a slave state, defending before the Senate 'the natural liberty of man and its incompatibility with slavery in any shape.' John Quincy Adams recorded: 'He spoke with great power, and the great slaveholders . . . gnawed their lips and clenched their fists as they heard him.'"
In other words, Mr. King was a Very Big Deal in his day, and a man who did not shy away from controversy.


Turning back to the house, I rather liked the pretty cream jug and coffee can and saucer seen in the preceding photograph that were sitting on a desk in the front parlor.  Perhaps if I were to actually follow through on my "Coffee Can of the Week" series promise, I might do a post on the coffee can . . .


The house's commodious dining room was remodeled by the Kings to have an oval end, which our young docent said seated musicians for dances at the house.  The doors on either side of the window lead to small closets.

"The Dinner Party" by Henry Sargent, ca. 1821
Image courtesy of the Museum of Fine Arts Boston

King Manor's dining room's decoration has been loosely based on the interior depicted in the well-known painting "The Dinner Party" by the artist Henry Sargent.  I know of at least two other Federal-era historic house museums that have also looked to that painting for inspiration for their dining rooms: Homewood House in Baltimore (the subject of an earlier post of mine) and the Harrison Gray Otis House in Boston.


King Manor is notable for its library, shown in the preceding photograph.  At one time it held over 3,500 books, of which approximately 2,000 remain today behind the room's curtained cases.  A book collection of such size in America in the first decades of the nineteenth century would only have been possible for a person of substantial wealth.  To put it in perspective, Thomas Jefferson's library of 6,500 volumes was the largest library in private hands in America when he sold it to the U.S. Government in 1815 for the then staggering sum of $23,900.  It formed the nucleus of what is today the Library of Congress.


The woodwork and walls in King Manor's library were grained when the house was restored in the 1980s to approximate their original decoration.

A late-nineteenth or early-twentieth century
view of the library
Image courtesy of King Manor Association

The photograph of the library in the preceding photograph shows the room as it probably looked in the years leading up to when the Kings sold the house to the city of Jamaica.  I wonder where Rufus King's "favorite arm chair" is today?

The house's "gift shop" in the upstairs hall

Our tour ended in the upstairs hall, which has been somewhat haphazardly set up as a gift shop.  None of the upstairs rooms were open to the public when we visited the house.  We peeked into one or two of them, however, and saw that they were mostly filled with furniture (perhaps including the elusive "favorite arm chair") stored under protective sheets.  Assuming much of the covered furniture was sold to the city of Jamaica by the Kings when they vacated the house, I suspect a subsequent reinterpretation of King Manor's interior may bring some of it back into the rooms, which would have been furnished during the Kings final days with a mix of period furnishings, as seen in the early photograph of the library.


With our tour completed, we bid our guide goodbye and left the house through the door seen under the porch in the preceding photograph.  The dependencies in the rear of the house were once devoted to service activities, notably cooking and laundry.

Architectural rendering of the east elevation for the 1984
restoration by Gibson Bauer Associates
Image courtesy of King Manor Association

In its day, King Manor would have been supported by numerous barns, stables, and outbuildings required to house the horses, carriages and buggies, livestock and farm equipment necessary to manage a large working country estate.  These have long since been torn down.

A view of the rear of the Manor, ca. 1936
Image courtesy of N.Y. City Department of Parks & Recreation

And with that I leave you, Dear Reader, with this charming old photograph of a view of the rear of King Manor.  We enjoyed our visit to the house and appreciate that we are fortunate today that it still stands, a stalwart reminder of the dignity and beauty that the countryside surrounding New York City once possessed.

Reggie's appreciation for King Manor, and the preservation of it and other historic house museums found in the public parks of New York City made possible by the philanthropic Historic House Trust of New York, has motivated him to make a donation to the Trust in support of its worthy and laudable efforts.  Should you be so fortunate to find yourself in New York, Dear Reader, Reggie encourages you to set aside an afternoon to visit one of the city's historic house museums, and to consider leaving a contribution when you do so above and beyond the modest admission price in order to help support their ongoing existence.

King Manor Museum
King Park, Jamaica, New York
(718) 206-0545
www.kingmanor.org

New York City Department of Parks & Recreation
www.nycgovparks.org

The Historic House Trust of New York
830 Fifth Avenue, Room 203
New York, NY 10065
(212) 360-8282
www.historichousetrust.org

The Simple Pleasure of a Chiming Clock In One's Bed Chamber

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As readers of this blog well know, Reggie is a somewhat old-fashioned fellow.  While he appreciates the conveniences and advances of the modern world, when it comes to how he lives his daily life his feet are inclined to be planted in an earlier time of rotary telephones, winding clocks, and monthly calendars.  In England he might be considered a Young Fogey, except that he has long since passed beyond what anyone (except for those of a very advanced age) might consider to still be young.  Sad, Dear Reader, but true.

Reggie's carriage clock
sitting on a chest of drawers at Darlington House

As a boy I had a fascination with carriage clocks, which I first came across in the houses of my little friends and also those of our neighbors.  Developed in France around 1810 by master clock-maker Abraham Louis Breguet (1747-1823), carriage clocks (also known as "officer's clocks," or pendules de voyage) are compact traveling timepieces that were fashionable among well-to-do Europeans and Americans throughout much of the nineteenth century.  Their appeal was both visual (they are pleasing to look at) and practical, as the clocks' mechanisms were cleverly designed to keep ticking (and thus telling accurate time) on bumpy carriage and train rides.

An early French carriage clock, with its original leather carrying case
Image courtesy of the Clock Workshop, Winchester, England

As I grew into adulthood I considered buying myself an antique carriage clock, but refrained from doing so (even though sorely tempted in several instances) because of a (perhaps unfounded) concern that finding someone to skillfully refurbish said clock to modern timekeeping standards would be challenging and expensive.  In other words, the purchase price of the clock would merely be the entry ticket to a long and costly project that might not, in the end, produce the desired result: a well regulated clock that keeps accurate time.

"The London to Bath Coach" by John Charles Maggs (1819-1896)
Image courtesy of Wikimedia

But that all changed a decade or so ago when I was fortunate to find myself on holiday in London.  I had recently received a substantial bonus at the Investment Bank where I work, and—as they say—money was burning a hole in my pocket.  (I note that this was back in the days when Investment Banks still paid handsome bonuses, which is today but a sad (albeit sweet) and (increasingly) distant memory for those of us who remain employed in what is left of that industry.)

"The New Steam Carriage" by George Morton
Image courtesy of Wikimedia

In any event, Reggie was in a shopping mood on that particular trip, so where do you think he made his way to in order to indulge his desire to spend?  Asprey!  Yes, the august English bespoke jeweler, silversmith, leather goods and timepiece purveyor to royals, aristocrats, and moneybags the world over.


I didn't go to Asprey to buy a carriage clock, mind you, but it was there that I serendipitously chanced upon the perfect one to bring home with me to Darlington House, as a souvenir (well, a trophy, really) of our trip to London.  While strolling through Asprey's New Bond Street store I came across a display of handsome clocks in a room that included a modern gilt brass carriage clock made in the traditional form.  I wondered: "Could this be the fulfillment of my desire (finally) to own a carriage clock that actually works?"  After giving the glittering timepiece a look over, and having the saleslady demonstrate its features to me, I decided to buy it.  Yes, it was rather costly, Dear Reader—I was shopping at Asprey, after all.

Asprey's store on New Bond Street in London
Image courtesy of Wikimedia

The carriage clock I acquired that day has stood ever since on a chest of drawers in our bedroom at Darlington House, where it pleases me whenever I see it, or hear it.  For, you see, Dear Reader, my little clock softly and mellifluously chimes the number of hours at every hour and a single note at every half hour, so it is not only a visual reminder of the passing of time, but a gently aural one too.

The clock's works are a marvel
of elegant engineering

I had never before known the pleasure of a chiming clock in one's bedroom, and I have come to be a great appreciator of mine as the years have passed.  There is something quietly reassuring of hearing its chime strike softly as one wakens, either during the night or in the morning, and to learn what time it is.  When one has such a clock in one's bedroom one needn't grope for one's bedside clock to find out the hour, but rather one's clock sweetly and quietly announces it from across the room.

There's no place like home, Dear Reader.

Photographs of Reggie's carriage clock by Boy Fenwick

May Flowers

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Last weekend, as I was loading up the car to drive back to the city from Darlington House, I found a basket of spring flowers waiting for me on the brick terrace in front of our kitchen door.


Boy had filled the basket, a trug really, with purple and white lilacs cut from our property and a dozen parrot tulips bought the day before at the farmers market in the nearby town.


I was so taken by the flowers' simple beauty that I asked Boy to photograph them, so I could remember them.


Lilacs are probably my favorite flower—well, at least they are among my top three favorites, which would also include peonies and garden roses.  I admit I am also rather partial to parrot tulips—so lush and elemental, verging upon the bizarre.


But how could one choose favorites among these lovely flowers?  They are so beautiful and plump, and heady with perfumed fragrance.  One is grateful for them, and for one's life when one is so fortunate to have their company, however fleeting it may be.

photographs by Boy Fenwick

Trade Secrets Redux

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This past weekend was the annual Trade Secrets Garden Show in Sharon, Connecticut.  I wrote about attending it last year (it is a "must do" in our calendar), so I'm not going to go into too much detail here about the show except to say that this year's well-attended event was a glorious one, and held on a blissfully lovely day.  It was heaven!

Reggie's topiary loot purchased at Trade Secrets
sitting on a bench at Darlington House

Litchfield County, Connecticut, where Trade Secrets is held on a gentlewoman's handsome working farm, is known for its rolling hills, quaint villages, open farmland, and estates hidden down long gravel driveways.  The area is a magnet for rich New Yorkers who prefer its low key charms to the frenzied mayhem of what has become of the Hamptons.  Nothing showy about this part of Connecticut, Dear Reader—it's all very discreet and tasteful.  Which is just how Reggie likes it, by the way.

We were joined at the show and over the weekend by the charming and amusing Meg Fairfax Fielding, of Pigtown Design fame.  The weekend was a non-stop gabfest of stories, laughter, and socializing.  I encourage you to check out Meg's blog, Dear Reader, as she is a kindred spirit, indeed.

So what did Reggie succumb to at the Trade Secrets show this year?

Topiaries.  Again!  And not just a few, mind you, but rather nine of them (an instant collection!), purchased at the booths of Atlock Farm and Snug Harbor Farm.  While Reggie has vowed time and time again not to buy any more myrtle topiaries (given his unfortunate history of murdering them), he is not a very disciplined fellow and he rationalized while considering his topiary options at the show that adding only one myrtle to the mix was permissible.  That's because if when he murders it at least he'll (hopefully) be able to console himself with the several remaining (non myrtle) topiaries that (he prays) will have avoided such a dismal fate awaiting the (currently healthy) myrtle one he bought at the show.  In the meantime, the topiaries he brought home with him are giving him lots of pleasure, which is what it is all about, isn't it?

Wish me luck!

Photograph by Reggie Darling


Reggie Revealed . . .

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"Who is that man behind the curtain?

Hey, wait a second—could that be Reggie Darling at the controls?
Image courtesy of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer

"Is his name really Reggie Darling?  What kind of name is that?

"And who is this Boy Fenwick person?  And that adorable pug that Reggie sometimes shows on his blog—is his name really Pompey?

I suspect they'd be able to figure out who Reggie really is pretty quickly . . .
Image courtesy of CBS Television

"Where is Darlington House?  Is that its actual name?  Who names their houses, anyway?  Why is it that they never show full rooms, only vignettes?  Do you think they even live there?

"And all those stories about Reggie's family, do you think they really happened?

Same with this crew.  I'll bet that Reggie couldn't fool them, either!
Image courtesy of CBS Television

"How much of this stuff is made up?

"I can't find out anything about these guys when I Google them.  That's pretty strange, I think.  You can almost always find something about someone these days with a simple Internet search.  Not these two, though.  Except that blog—there are lots of links to that . . . but not to them.

"It all sounds kind of fishy to me . . ."

Well, Dear Reader, it has come time for me to answer some of these questions.  For, you see, Reggie has been revealed.  There is a certain design magazine on the newsstands now that spills the beans.  Reggie has been outed.

The magazine in which all is revealed . . .

And that's just fine with him.  Because, Reggie actually outed himself.  He agreed to use his "real" name in the story in the magazine because a lot of people already knew that Reggie wasn't the name he was born with, but rather a nom de plume.

Darlington House, as seen in the June 2013 issue of AD

Besides, he was quite pleased to have Darlington House featured in the magazine, and he thought it would be silly not to have his "real" name associated with it.  He's very proud of Boy Fenwick for appearing in Architectural Digest's pages, a coup for anydecorator.  It doesn't get any better than that, Dear Reader.

Mr. Boy Fenwick standing at the front door
of Darlington House

"So," you may ask, "If you use made up names in your blog, Reggie, is everything else made up, too?"

Won't you please come into the front hall?

No.  Well, not really.  Other than coming up with playfully Wodehouse-ian names, most everything Reggie writes about is true, and actually happened.  From time to time, though, he does admit to playing around with some of the minor details (such as writing that MD drank scotch when in reality she drank Canadian Club).  But he does so mostly to perfect the voice in his stories.

Do make yourself comfortable in the drawing room.
Would you like something to drink?  A cocktail, perhaps?

"But why, Reggie, do you use a nom de plume?"

Because, Dear Reader, I prefer to keep this blog—a lifestyle one—separate from my very busy and demanding professional life in the financial services industry.  I have a whole "other" life that I prefer not to co-mingle with what I do here in my off hours, for fun.

Reggie is upstairs in the master bedroom straightening his tie
at the moment.  He'll be right down to meet you!

And I plan to keep it that way, too, Dear Reader, even though Reggie's secret it out.

Won't you please play along with me?

Photographs: Unless noted otherwise, all images courtesy of Architectural Digest magazine

Pompey at Fourteen

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What with all the excitement these past several weeks, I forgot to mention that our dear little Pompey turned fourteen.  He is an old dog.


We had a scare on his birthday weekend, Dear Reader, when we had to rush him to the hospital, for emergency treatment.  You can see where the vet shaved his arms for the IVs.

We almost lost him.

It really took a lot out of him, and he is noticeably diminished.

Every day with Pompey is precious to me.  I don't know how many more of them we'll have, but I know that I shall treasure each and every one of them.

Photograph of Pompey in Reggie's arms taken today by Boy Fenwick

Reggie on Hiatus . . .

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I need to take a break, Dear Reader.  I wish it was because I merely needed to recharge my batteries, but it's because I have rather a lot on my plate right now.
 

For the next month or so, what with international travel, intense work commitments, and other pressing obligations, I'm not going to be able to post here.  It's all good, mind you—just a lot of it.

See you later this summer!

Reggie

photograph courtesy of LIFE Images

Hello Again

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Reggie is pleased to announce that he is returning to the blogosphere.


He got rather a lot accomplished over the last five weeks, and he is now able to refocus his sights on his silly scribbles here.

I'm planning any number of posts, Dear Reader, that I hope you will enjoy.  Please stay tuned!

Reggie received the antique postcard featured here from his dear friend Jane Maxwell, of whom he is inordinately fond.  What a delightful and thoughtful gift it was!

More of Darlington House in AD

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I thought it would be appropriate for me to mark my return to the blogosphere by showing additional photographs of Darlington House that appeared in the June issue of Architectural Digest magazine.

The main elevation of our drawing room at Darlington House
featuring a wallpaper panel from Dufour's Cupid and Psyche series

These are pictures that appeared in the print version of the magazine, but that weren't featured in the online edition until only recently.  You can see the other photographs of Darlington House that also appeared in the June issue of the magazine in my Reggie Revealed post.

Darlington's dining room, restored to its original yellow wall color

The full run of photographs of Darlington House, along with the accompanying article written by the marvelous and erudite Mitchell Owens, is featured on AD's website, and can be found here.  I'm thrilled by it.

Reggie spends a lot of time sitting at this table, pecking away
on his laptop, working on posts for this blog

I must admit that having a house that I live in appear in a design magazine has always been a fantasy of mine.  That Darlington House was chosen to be featured in Architectural Digest, the pinnacle of such magazines in my view, makes me dizzy with pleasure.

A view of the upstairs hall

When I leaf through AD's pages featuring the houses, apartments, yachts, and castles of celebrities, billionaires, and tastemakers I can't help but wonder how it is that our own little plain Jane of a house was chosen to appear in its pages?  It almost takes my breath away.

A view of the upstairs sitting room, which we call our "Snuggery"

Even so, a little voice in the back of my mind keeps asking, "What's next, Reggie?  What else do you have up your sleeve?  When are you going to buckle down and actually get to work on that book of yours that you've been talking about?"

Well, Dear Reader, I'm not going to let those inner voices rain on my parade here quite yet.  I plan on continuing to revel in the pleasure of the AD story having run, resuming my regular posting here on RD, and allowing myself the space to sit back and enjoy it all.

At least for now . . .

All photographs by William Waldron and styled by Howard Christian.  All images courtesy of Architectural Digest

Rest in Peace, Dear Pompey

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It is with sadness and gratitude that I write today's post, a tribute to my dear sweet Pompey, who died two weeks ago after fourteen happy, play-filled years.  Pompey's amusing antics graced this blog many times since its inception, and he was a great favorite of many of you, Dear Reader.

Pompey Darling
May 12, 1999 to July 8, 2013

As I reported in an earlier post, we almost lost Pompey a few short months ago.  We were fortunate that we didn't, though, and the time we had with him since then allowed us to cherish him all the more, loving him every moment we were blessed with his company until it came time for us to say our final goodbye.

At the kitchen door at Darlington

Funny, faithful, and loving, Pompey was all that I could have ever hoped for in what I truly believe is "man's best friend."  He certainly was mine.  I did adore him so.

In my arms on Nantucket

I fell in love with Pompey the day we brought him home to Darlington House as a wee puppy, fourteen years ago.  I've been besotted with him ever since.  So good natured, so friendly, such a fond companion Pompey was.  I called him my "little one" and my "little man."  Boy called him his "sweet familiar," a name that always made me smile.

Snug in his bed at Darlington

I knew that when we retrieved Pompey from the animal hospital after his scare in May that we had him on borrowed time.  Although enfeebled by his ordeal, Pompey rallied over the ensuing weeks, and there were times when he almost resembled his old playful, darling self.  A week before he died, though, he started to decline, and it became clear to Boy and me—at first individually and then acknowledged between the two of us—that our sweet fellow was beginning to check out.  The evening before he died Pompey went into a spiral, and no amount of painkiller medicine that I administered to him was able to alleviate his suffering over a long and sleepless night.  Poor, dear little man.

By four in the morning I knew that his time was up.

In a pensive mood

I woke Boy, and the two of us got out of bed with Pompey and carried him downstairs.  We took him out to our screened porch, where the three of us had spent many happy times over the years.  We waited there together as the dawn broke, Pompey lying on the sofa between the two of us, breathing slowly.  A calm settled on us as we sat there quietly, our little family close together for the last time, listening to the sounds of the birds waking and calling their early morning songs.

Happy as a clam with Boy on Nantucket

I telephoned the vet's office as soon as it opened, and arranged to bring Pompey in later that morning.  His end was merciful and swift, and Pompey died with dignity, sheltered in the embrace of those who adored him most, bathed in our tears and love.

I shall miss my dear sweet darling for the rest of my days.

At the Four Seasons in Baltimore

I am truly blessed, Dear Reader, to have had the privilege of Pompey's loving friendship for fourteen years.  I am grateful that Boy and I were able to raise and nurture him with love and care, and that he lived with affection his entire life.  And I am fortunate to have known the devotion of Pompey's faithful companionship for more than a quarter of my own life.  I know I am a better person for it.

On our bed at Darlington

Thank you, dear Pompey, for all the joy, laughter, affection, and fun you brought to me and to those who loved you over the years.  You were a very special, very much loved friend.

May you rest in peace, dear little one.  I will always love you.

Photographs by Boy Fenwick and Reggie Darling
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