No Longer Up To Snuff

Madame's Nightshirt
Mrs. Peperium

I still recall the first time I saw them. I was 23 years old and shopping with a good mate on our lunch hour. We had gone into Shreve, Crump, and Lowe to browse around and pick up some stationary. Then we wandered into the store just a few doors over. I cannot for the life of me recall the name of the shop but I can recall my first glimspe of them. They were in a glass display case on top of one of the counters. I went directly over to them. Upon my request, the sales lady opened the case and let me marvel at the collection. They were perfectly gorgeous and I wanted one. Badly. My mate said, "Get one." I looked at them and said "No." You see, I had decided right there and then, without telling a soul, that I didn't want to buy myself one. I wanted to be given one. And the guy I wanted to be given one by, was the guy I was go to feed out of the same crib for life. And more than that, he was going to give it to me when he popped the question. So, I said thank you to the sales lady and we left the store with visions dancing in my head of me being totally surprised when the smiling Mr. Right, at the conclusion of a splendid dinner at one of Boston's finer dining establishments, sweetly asked for my hand in marriage while handing me a hand painted Limoges snuff box with a honking engagement ring hidden inside.

Hand painted Limoges boxes have been around for a few hundred years. Back in the old days, fashionable men used them as snuff containers. In more recent years, fashionable ladies used them to hold perfume or their children's baby teeth. There are several manufacturers of the boxes. The finest ones are marked Paint Main and include the artist's name or initials. The very finest boxes are painted by the best Limoges' artists will have a small hand painted ladybug, bee or butterfly somewhere on the box. These boxes are so well executed they will easily stand out to the discerning eye in in a collection of 25 boxes or more.

As I recently shared with all of you, my wedding proposal did not go down the way I had imagined it would. What's far worse than that, one can make a very strong case that it was me who actually popped the question. How perfectly dreadful. Anyway, during that visit to Mr. P's parents, Mr. P and I did manage to stumble across a store that had a very nice collection of hand painted Limoges boxes. Since I had already blown my chances at receiving one during my proposal by popping the question myself, I did try to recoup matters by steering Mr. P over to the display case and telling Mr. P how much I adored them. I was hoping he would put 2 and 2 together and buy one for when he presented me the ring. Mr. P put 1 and 1 together and bought me one when I wasn't looking and gave it to me on the way back to the house. *Sigh* However, I chose to look on the bright side of things. The man I had agreed to feed out of the same crib for life had given me a hand-painted Limoges snuff box within hours of me asking him to marry me.

So fast forward about 10 months and I was standing before the chapel altar with Mr. P, who was resplendent in tweeds. I had a broad-brimmed hat on with a veil that wrapped around my chin. We had reached the point in the ceremony where the priestess said, "The rings please." The rings did not come forth. There was a snaffoo. If you are aware of anything regarding our wedding weekend, it was all about snaffoos. So my attitude was, what's one more at this point? I remained calm but, then it was still taking too much time for the rings to be presented. I thought they were lost. I casually peeked the large brim of my hat around Mr. P's tweed back to see what was wrong. Our best man had his pocket inside out and was trying to untangle something caught in the lining. By now, Mr. P was assisting him. At first I could not get a good look at what it was they were untangling. Then I saw it. My mouth dropped open and I quickly snapped back into bride position. Our now very pink Best Man handed the priestess a pear-shaped hand-painted Limoges snuff box. The priestess smiled and looked the box over before opening it to bless our wedding rings which were inside. Meanwhile, I seriously contemplated fainting. I had never, ever told Mr. P about my dream of being presented a box with the ring inside when he asked me to marry him. Then, I had gone and ruined my chances of ever having my dream come true by popping the question myself. But Mr. P had saved the day, or dream, plus improved upon it by presenting a Limoges box with both of our weddings rings inside at the altar. Talk about hot stuff. After our wedding portraits were taken outside the Church, I finally got to examine my box. I can still recall turning it around and getting my first glimpse of the hand-painted bee. Mr. P had no idea what the bee signified when he had bought it. He just selected what he believed to be the best painted one in the case. Which, to those in the know, the bee indicated it was.

So that wedding day surprise began the tradition of Mr. presenting me with a hand-painted Limoges snuff box every wedding anniversary after. Before children we always were on holiday in Maine for our anniversary. My most favorite store is in Northeast Harbor and they always had a nice selection for Mr. P to choose one from. After a few years, the sales ladies there even got to know him and our tradition. On the afternoon of our anniversary, Mr. P would nip over there while I was busy in the kitchen preparing our dinner. He'd make his selection and the ladies would wrap it up for him. Then he'd stop at the liquor store to pick up a bottle of vintage Port. A quick pause at the cheesemonger's for some Seal CoveFarm goat cheese, a wedge of Stilton, nuts, and water crackers. He'd arrive home, put on Oscar Peterson, start a fire, assemble his cheese plate and crack open the Port. I'd take a break from the kitchen and join him in the living room. It was perfectly marvelous.

Perfectly marvelous until Home Shopping Network went and ruined it all. Back in the days our home had cable, Mr. P and I were settling down to watch something. He was blowing through the channels and on Home Shopping Network they were selling hand painted Limoges snuff boxes. He blew past it. I ordered him to stop and back up. He did. I watched the sales ladies hawk my beloved hand painted Limoges snuff boxes at a some obscene rate of 250 boxes per hour, discounted too. I wanted to cry. I didn't. Instead, I told Mr. P that I no longer wanted or needed another hand painted Limoges snuff box. He understood but did think I'd rally around by the next anniversary. I never did. I have 11 pre-Home Shopping Network Limoges snuff boxes and those are enough.

What happened with Limoges is not unusual. In fact it's all too common* these days. My perfume recently has gone under a similar treatment. I've always worked on the signature scent concept. That means instead of having a wardrobe of scents for all different occasions, I wear the same scent all the time. Mr. P like the scent I wore when we met, but then the fellow responsible for it died soon after. The people who took over his branding were bent on changing his image so I thought it was time for me to change scents. Since I was now dressing for an audience of one, Mr. P was charged with going out and selecting my new scent. The instructions were something classic but no Chanel or Shalimar. He went with a Guerlain scent that pleased him enormously. Since it was a scent created by a member of the Guerlain family, I was pleased as it meant it was here to stay. Then in the late '90's the Guerlain family sold the family business they had owned for a hundred and fifty years or more. Now the new owners have recently discontiuned my scent. A Guerlain-created scent was recently discontinued. That statement in the old days --as in pre-NBA days-- of the world of fashion would have been a breathtaking statement. Now it's just a matter of spreadsheets. Most perfumes today are no longer made from real extracts of flowers and spices. They are made from chemical extracts and being sold at the same prices to a far less discerning audience. Apparently, my perfume could not be recreated well from chemical extracts. So the new owners decided to shelve it. I can still buy it over the internet but an intrinsic part of buying your perfume is the visit to the perfume counter. Buying over the internet does not cut it.

So Mr. P, and now with the rest of my audience in tow - the children, recently went off to the perfume counter to select a new scent for me. They picked a lovely one. This past weekend they presented it along some matching body lotion (to get the layered effect of scent that I prefer) for 17 years of feeding at the same trough. Though we were not in Maine, and Mr. P was still recovering from the stomach flu his offspring had so thoughtfully brought home from school, we still managed to meet up in the living room for some Oscar Peterson, goat cheese, nuts, and wine. Mr. P's weakened stomach could not tolerate vintage Port. It was marvelous.

For his anniversary dinner this year Mr. P's, requested this. But this recipe has been another longtime favorite for our day. I think you'll like it too.

Pork Loin with Port and Leek Sauce from Marmotte in Telluride, Colorado
(serves 4)

2 cups chicken broth, low salt
1 cup beef broth, low salt

1 1/2 lbs russet potatoes, peeled and cut inot 1-inch pieces
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter
1 /2 cup heavy cream
pinch of ground nutmeg

1 tbspn olive oil
1 pound boneless pork loin

1 large leek (white and pale green parts only), sliced
3 shallots, finely chopped
1 cup Port

1. Boil both stocks in medium saucepan until reduced to 2/3 cup, about 25 minutes. Set aside.

2. Cook potatoes in large saucepan of boiling salted water until tender. Drain. Return to pan and mash with potato masher. Add butter and cream and bring to simmer, stiring frequently. Season to taste with salt, pepper, and nutmeg. (Can be prepared 2 hours ahead. Cover stock mixture and potatoes separately and let stand at room temp.)

3. Preheat oven to 425. Heat oil in large ovenproof skillet over high heat. Season pork with salt and pepper. Add to skillet and brown on all sides, about 5 minutes. Transfer skillet to oven and roast pork until just cooked through, about 20 minutes. CAREFUL : REMOVE SKILLET FROM OVEN USING OVEN PADS. Transfer pork to plate and tent with foil to keep warm; do not clean skillet.

4. Add leeks and shallots to same skillet and cook over medium heat until tender, about 8 minutes. Add reduced stock mixture and port and boil until reduced by half, about 4 minutes.

5. Meanwhile rewarm mashed potatoes in saucepan over medium heat, stirring frequently. Divide among plates. Cut pork into slices and arrange around potatoes. Spoon Port sauce over pork.

*Please read.

Comments

[Lorraine]

Mrs P.,

Too bad about the limoge boxes. They are awfully nice.

That pork loin sounds scrummy. With the approach of cool weather, I am irresistibly drawn to recipes for butternut squash soup, risotto, rosemary and garlic roast beef and pumpkin pancakes. Here is one of my favorite autumn dishes:

Normandy Sausage

3 or 4 links (about 1 pound) fresh French white sausage (boudin blanc) or bockwurst, cut into 3/4-inch slices

4 small Granny Smith or other firm, tart apples, about 1 1/2 pounds, peeled, cored, halved, and cut into 1/4-inch crosswise slices

Ground cinnamon

1/4 cup Calvados(apple brandy), applejack or good apple cider

1/4 cup heavy cream

Chopped fresh parsley leaves, for garnish

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

In a large cold skillet, arrange the sausage slices in 1 layer. Set over medium-high heat, and cook, turning the slices once or twice until they are crisp and nicely browned on both sides, about 10 minutes. Remove from the heat and set aside.

In a 2-quart casserole, arrange a layer of about 1/4 of the sausage slices. Cover the sausage with a layer of about 1/4 of the apple slices. Sprinkle lightly with cinnamon. Continue in this manner to make 4 layers, ending with the apple slices.

Stir the Calvados into the skillet in which the sausage was browned, scraping up any crusty, brown bits that cling to the bottom of the pan. Stir in the cream until well blended, Pour this mixture evenly over the casserole.

Cover, and bake for 1 hour until the apples have cooked down and the mixture is bubbling. Sprinkle with parsley before serving.

[Basil Seal]

Although the Countess and I have met Jean-Paul Guerlain, we did not mention to him that the Countess has worn Houbigant's Quelques Fleurs since she was born (still wears it exclusively today)...My own snuff box is of tortoise shell with silver mounts...For you young ladies, the Countess recommends that you select a signature scent,that will attract the gentlemen, one that is still natural and not synthetic, and this narrows your selections down to a choice of three or four...Although she does note that in America, the most effective way to attract men is to buy a bottle of spirits instead of a bottle of parfum...It's much cheaper as well.

[Mrs. Peperium]

Lorraine, ignore Basil's advice and stay on your course. I have found that a cooking, epsecially with things like sausages or with aromatics like rosemary is a far more effective way to attract men. Baking is too. Why, I've had grown millionaires chase me around at parties for a slice of one of my cakes. And I'm married. They were too but that didn't seem to stop them.

You see perfume as nice as it is doesn't last long. And no matter how expensive the scent, perfume has never mastered hanging in the air the way a perfectly roasted Beef Wellington or joint of beef does. And then there is something a simple as a perfect Apple Croustada. Men will faint over a good whiff of one of those baking. I have to bake them two at a time as we've had male dinner guests who will happily tuck into half of one.. themselves....

Then if you can not only discuss cheese but allow the men in your life to eat them, well...the world is your oyster as they say... Stilton with pears, walnuts and biscuits is a perfect ending to a Fall repast...and if you allow a man to smoke his favorite cigar or pipe while enjoying his Stilton and port, then you really do begin to learn firsthand what true appreciation is...

[Basil Seal]

Don't fall for it Lorraine...Listen to your Uncle Basil...Men are shallow and stupid, most think "Beef" was the first name of the guy who helped Napoleon build Waterloo Bridge. And they think Apple Croustada is an erotic dancer...And of course the millionaires were not chasing Mrs. P around for her cooking, they can hire cooks, I guess P stands for Pollyanna?...She has been reading far too much Jane Austen...Parfum, décolletage and wicked wiles are the key (free drinks don't hurt either)...Trust me...And serving up squash and other such mushy things is a sure way to dampen the ardor, unless you are shooting for the Birkenstock, Bunny Funkhauser crowd...

[Mrs. Peperium]

Millionaires like Basil may be able to hire his own cooks, but he can't sleep with them. Or he's deader than the carnard I use in my Caneton Roti a la Alsacienne (roast duck with sausage and apple stuffing) And if you can't sleep with your cook Basil, then what's the use of having one?

Even Gussie Finknottle, the newt fancier, had the good sense to dump Madeline and run off with the cook. She made him nice plump pork pies...and he was so happy...

Keep cooking Lorraine...

[Meg Q]

I'm so sorry about the Limoges boxes. I loved them when I first saw them as a girl, but as I grew older they became (as you've noted) so much more "common" - relatively a *bit* less expensive, but a bit less interesting, too. At least your anniversaries are nice in other ways!

I wear "Spring Flower" by Creed, and I hope they never never never get bought out by a multinational. BTW, why has no one ever remarked (at least, that I've seen) that "Polo" cologne is basically a rip-off of Creed's "Green Irish Tweed"?

[Mrs. Peperium]

Meg, thank you. I had forgotten about Creed. and yes, you are quite right about Ralph Lipshultz's Polo being a rip-off of Green Irish Tweed...too funny, huh?

I only like the faintest scent on a man...lemon, lime, or Bay Rum...Polo was never faint...

I like very much what Mr. P chose for my new scent, I'm just not sure if it's the right scent yet --it's Italian. Only my shoes have been Italian.....and as I've aged, I've come to appreciate depth and smokiness more that smelling like a florist shop. The scent he has picked out has a lot of depth and smokiness. He likes that and I agree with him.

[Dorothy]

Since I have met Sir Basil, I can tell you that he wears Creed's Green Irish Tweed. I mentioned it to him and he told me that he has worn it for years, long before the great unwashed even knew it existed. I was standing quite close to him for a few seconds before the Countess saw me. It was a very wonderful experience. The standing close, not the Countess seeing me... He told me he would soon have to stop wearing it, now that the nouveau riche have discovered it...

[Mrs. Peperium]

Dorothy, standing in the presence of Sir Basil is indeed a heady experience for any mere woman. And as the years pass, the more heady the experience becomes as there seems to be more head and less hair.

Sir Basil hasn't told me he's been meeting with readers. Particularly female ones who sleep with his emails under his pillow.

I do hope he liked your perfume.

[Lorraine]

Mrs. P.,

You have failed to mention the sovereign importance of the Apron. Men flock to an apron with food, even when the tray holds only oatmeal raisin cookies.

[Lorraine]

Uncle Basil,

Please thank the Countess for her advise concerning bottled goods. If you pass round the free spirits often enough beforehand, I expect even the sartorial types will gladly tuck into Acorn squash with maple pecans and goat cheese.

[Lorraine]

Mrs. P.,

By the by, do you know of a recipe for perfect Apple Croustada? If so, could we persuade you to divulge it?

[Mrs. Peperium]

Oh dear Lorraine. It looks as if Uncle Basil was right when he said Apple Croustada was an exotic dancer.

I just got out my recipe and it's Apple Crostata.

*sigh*

I hate it when he's right.

That Basil knew the difference between the free-form Apple Crostata tart and the dancing tart, Apple Croustada is a clear indication Basil really does move in different social circles than the rest of us.

Apple Crostata -makes two tarts

(for the pastry)
2 cups all-purpose 1/4 cup granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt or sel de mer
1/2 lb very cold unsalted butter, diced

(for the filling)
1 1/2 pounds Mcintosh, Macoun, or Empire apples
1/4 teaspoon grated orange zest
1/4 cup all purpose flour
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt or sel de mer
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon ground allspice
4 tablespoons cold unsalted butter (1/2 stick), diced

For the pastry, place flour, sugar, and salt in the bowl of a food processor fitted with a steel blade. Pulse a few times to combine. Add the butter and toss quickly with your fingers to coat each cube of butter with the flour. Be careful, the blades are sharp. Pulse 12 to 15 times, or until the butter is the size of peas. With the motor running, add the 1/4 cup of ice water all at once through the feed tube. Keep hitting the pulse button to combine, but stop the machine before it comes together (this keeps the pastry texture flakey) Turn dough out on to floured pastry board or slab of marble and form into 2 disks. Wrap with plastic and refrigerate for at least one hour. (dough freezes beautifully-so you can freeze one if you like)

Preheat oven to 450. Roll the pastry into an 11-inch circle on lightly floured surface. Transfer it to a baking sheet lined with parchment paper.

For the filling, peel, core, and quarter the apples. Cut each quarter into 3 chunks. Toss the chunks with the orange zest. Cover the tart dough with the apple chunks, leaving a 1 1/2 inch border.

Combine the flour, sugar, salt, cinnamon, and allspice in the bowl of a food processor fitted with a steel blade. Add the butter and pulse until the mixture is crumbly. Pour into a bowl and rub it with your fingers until it starts holding together. Sprinkle evenly on the apples. Gently fold the border over the apples, pleating it to make a circle.

Bake the crostata for 20 to 25 minutes, or until the crust is golden and the apples are tender. Let the tart cool for 5 minutes, then use 2 large spatulas to transfer to a wire rack.

---------

Now I form mine ahead of time and pop them in the oven about 10 minutes before our guests are slated to arrive. That way they are greeted with the very fragrant scent of baking apples and pure butter pastry. Then the scent only intensifies as they relax over their first adult beverage...and when I have to excuse myself to remove the tarts from the oven almost always someone will ask if I need any help...

About the sovereign importance of the apron and why men flock to it. First, these would have to be men in the know, which Sir Basil is clearly not. Men flock to a woman in an apron for more than her cookies. A properly cut apron allows the most natural opportunity for décolletage that today's fashions posess. Here, most educated and sophisticated working girls think an apron is a throwback to old days when women were kept barefoot in the kitchen. They have tossed it into the dustbin and order take out. Or they leave it to those poor slobs, like us, who have to do their own cooking.

Not so I say. Aprons are décolletage all the way. It's what one wears underneath the apron that separates the girls from the women. And if you place the the platter containing the roast joint of beef and it's attractively arranged trimings the right way on the dining room table --in front of your husband naturally-- then the slight intake you hear among the men seated around the table is for far more than just your acute understanding of the noble steer...

[Lorraine]

Thanks for the trade secrets, Mrs. P.

[Mrs. Peperium]

You're very welcome. It's my pleasure. And my duty according to Jane Austen...