Well firstly I apologise for not getting my post up yesterday. Without boring you, or myself, technical issues had me talking to a help desk – primarily AI, and then a real person, to try to get me into my website, from which I had been locked out. My normal password was failing to let me in.
I’m already boring you, so let’s get on with what I look forward to on this page each month – that is, putting some words into an entertaining shape.
Do you ever have a flash-back to some far distant memory? Something you haven’t thought of since it happened? I had one of these the other day. It went back to 1966 when Warren (my late husband) and I were invited out to lunch. Warren’s cousin Rob was boarding with an older couple who, for a reason I can’t remember, issued us the invitation. The couple were both doctors, of Chinese heritage. They lived in Rose Park – one of Adelaide’s most prestigious suburbs.
It was a gloomy winter’s day. We pulled up outside their home, in the leafy street of old classic stone homes. I remember sensing the subdued affluence from the minute we were greeted by Mr. Chung on the tessellated verandah at the solid, old front door. He looked distinguished – not a tall man but beautifully dressed in a tailored pair of tweed trousers with waist-coat to match, a white shirt and tie and well-polished fine shoes. He spoke perfect English.
Inside, the house was warm, the carpet white and plusher than any I’d seen. We were led into the passage-way and then the front room. Its beauty and ambience nearly took my breath away. A good-sized open fire accounted for the warmth. Two or three exquisitely upholstered arm-chairs were placed in front of it. Through a bay window you looked out to the street through the small and charming cottage garden of Daphne, Camellias, Pansies etc., amongst the bare bones of pruned Roses . The window’s glass was beveled with rainbow lights coming in at the edges.
A table was set in front of this window – a cedar table with cabriole legs – set for five, with linen place mats, serviettes in silver holders, lovely fine bone china, and silver cutlery. My mum had taught me how to set a table, not that we ever went to this extent in our day to day living at home when I was a kid. But here in this room, on the right and from the right, were the butter knife, the soup spoon, the dinner knife, and the dessert spoon. On the left were the dinner fork and dessert fork. A crystal tumbler and wine glass sparkled in front of each setting. There were flowers from the garden in a small low vase in the centre. I’m not sure about music, but for this occasion to be so memorable for me, I’d say there was probably jazz, from vinyl on a turntable.
Mr. and Mrs. Chung were quiet, gracious people. Their character could be seen in the home, in the way it was decorated, with fine works of art, figurines, some exquisite small Chinese pieces. Lovely wall lights gave the room a warm, cosy ambience on this wintry day.
The conversation was grown up, although we were barely – in our early twenties. I think we did well.
I have sketchy memory of the food, but I do know there was caviar. It was the first time I’d eaten it. Loved it then and have ever since. There were smoked oysters and a creamy bitey cheddar cheese. It was also the first time I’d tasted Camembert. These were foods not eaten in the households of ordinary Australians at the time. To follow was a delicious creamy soup – maybe potato and leek, and then the roast – chicken from memory, with every roast-compatible vegetable you could imagine.. The only memory I have of the dessert is of berries. Unforgettable. I could never eat that much food in one sitting today.
From that day, I dreamt of having a home as gracious as this, and of giving friends and family an experience like that in my home. We were married soon after, and I must say it took many years to grow our home into something that came near it. Developing our farming enterprise and raising our family took so much time. But there were dinner parties, and I do remember the joy of entertaining – the cooking, the table, the ambience, the candle-light, the music, doing all it took to make an enjoyable evening.
We are more casual these days. Entertaining is far easier. I am not quite as fussy about having everything perfect. There are rooms in the house that I know our guests won’t go into, so why would I need to remove ALL the dust and ALL the cobwebs just for that day.
I am not fond of winter. First four or five weeks are okay as the skeletons of the deciduous trees reveal their shapes, first fires are lit, the home becomes a cocoon of warmth, reading and comfort foods (most cooked by my foodie guy Leigh).
I thought it would be good to head north about now – to warmer climes. Impulsively I chose Broken Hill but didn’t realise the Hill’s winter climate is actually not much different from ours. We’ve booked to go in a couple of weeks – just for a few days. There is really quite a lot to see there. A friend recently told me of some interesting places that I didn’t realise existed, so we’ll put them on our list of things to do. I’ll be able to tell you all about it in my next blog.
It’s a wild and wooly day here today, but we will brave it and go out to dinner tonight. Knead Barossa is five minutes from here and the restaurant puts on such a great night once a week that we have got into the habit of going there every Wednesday. The menu is small but the food is always delicious – generous and inexpensive. We’ll be home by eight, then sit in front of the fire with a warming port, good music and more of our never-ending stream of life stories that we love to share.
This one is finished. Hope you’ve enjoyed the visit.
Take care,
Warmly,
Sue
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