A Summer Wedding (2014 Edition)

College sweethearts, they nipped away and got married this winter, after about eight years of living in poky bedsits in Brighton, fresh flowers always on the marquetry drum table so the various places looked bright and homey.  They decided to gather the clans to celebrate at grandma's New England pond-side summer house, and gosh can the young folks throw a party.
 

The gift table, with its own little marquee in case the partly-cloudy sky got obstreperous.

The bride is a horticulturalist and artist; this wildflower arrangement is hers.

She also did the centerpieces, with help from friends.  The table runners are paper, decorated with the bride and groom's initials handwritten by anyone who was around to write them.  They made a great graphic design; I feel very smart that I managed to figure out they were letters.

The view from the buffet.

And we walked by the marriage vows to get to that buffet.

May there always be a shared adventure rich with moments of serenity, as well as excitement; vital with problems that test as well as successes that lift...

The feast included charcuterie and cheese plates, mezze and salads and sandwiches and really great breads.

On the groom's side, we got to meet Mum and a cousin or something.  On the bride's side, there were Mum and Dad, one and a half sisters, three aunts, two uncles, just one of several cousins, Mum's second ex-husband (effectively bride's stepfather for much of her childhood and adolescence), stepdad's mother, sister and wife and someone who may have been his mother's boyfriend, Dad's mother, sister, wife, two cousins and Dad's daughter by current marriage so that's another half-sister.  There may have been more.  The photo of the bride's mother, father's wife and stepfather's wife together is... let's call it interesting.

Dress varied widely.  One of the wedding gifts was the bride's gorgeous tiara of fresh roses.

Where do I come in?  Through the kitchen door, natch.  I made Mum and Dad's wedding cake more than thirty years ago, and the bride wanted someone to bring dessert.  They hadn't specified a wedding cake, but wedding cakes are fun!  And since they had way fewer than 150 guests, I didn't need to construct a three-tier cake, which I can only vaguely recall how to do.  So I decided to go with two tiers and a cheesecake on the side that would make her dad happy.

Cheesecake o' love.

So having made that first cake, 30-some years ago, I got called on twice more in the ensuing fifteen years.  That, for those of you challenged by the maths-totting, means I haven't made a tiered cake for more than fifteen years.  How hard could it be, I reasoned, and left everything to the last minute.  My wedding cakes have all been chocolate, with fruit filling between the layers and buttercream overall.  The two marriages celebrated with chocolate and raspberry ended in divorce; the one celebrated with chocolate and cherry filling is still going fairly strong.  So there you go.  One of the bride's friends whipped a gallon or two of cream to go with a few gallons of fresh strawberries, plus there were sorbets, so everyone got well-desserted.

Sugaring a cherry is akin to gilding a lily, but sometimes 'fancy' is the right way to go.

They both seem very down-to-earth, reasonably smart, and centered.  I'm betting on happy ever after.

Guests did a little swimming as the sun drew in.

Then there were lanterns.  The groom and bride took theirs out on the pond, lit it...

let it go...

and watched it fly.

 

The latest addition to Betty A’s household is a baby one...

Thanks, Betty Anonymous, for keeping us posted on your most Betty-esque adventures:

On Friday, I received a package. I had ordered a new light jacket, navy blue – such a useful colour. It’s not a Burberry, no, neither cat nor boots, but still... It’s a — wait for it — WELLINGTON® of Bilmore.  My mother had ordered some organic cookies, Duchy Originals. We usually call them Prince Charles cookies, for (at least to us) apparent reasons.

Then there was a jar of Mrs Bridges® FOUR BERRY Preserve, Made in Scotland. Just for me.

“Mrs Bridges? The Mrs Bridges?”

You may well ask. Because, yes, Mrs Bridges, the Mrs Bridges of Upstairs, Downstairs at Eaton Place fame lends her name to all sorts of jams, preserves and chutneys that are being created in her name.

And last but not least, for little Betty A., all 5 feet 6 inches of her, there was a small baby jar of Marmite. For months I had meant to order one, but ordering just one jar and nothing else would have been silly. Now, finally it arrived, a limited edition no less. Call me strange, but not only do I like Marmite, but sometimes, for a special treat, I put a wee little bit on the tip of a spoon and eat it straight from the jar. I just let it melt in my mouth and “Ah!” Pure bliss... Sigh

A few media citations:

Food & Drink Innovation Network, September 16th, 2013:

Marmite is welcoming a new member to the family – the “Baby One” – following its appearance on the current End Marmite Neglect TV advert.

This 125g jar features a new label quoting part of the now famous line, “It’s a baby one”, and joins the household for a limited time only.

Joanne O’Riada, Marmite brand manager, said: “The ‘It’s a baby one’ quote in the Marmite advert has caused such a stir that we wanted to do something to honour it.

“What better way than to create a limited edition jar that we hope will remind people to never neglect the brown stuff again."

(source: Food & Drink Innovation Network)

The Guardian, 7 August 2013:

A storm in a Marmite jar

The Video on YouTube:

End Marmite NeglectAdvert 2013

Economizing with Dearest Eulalia

Betty Anonymous on a timely post-holiday topic...


Did you ever have to economize, or, in other words, have to scrape and scrimp, cut down on expenses, lay out your money with a careful eye?

Economizing with Dearest Eulalia

I don’t know how many times I have read Dearest Eulalia.  I know I had always read things the way The Great Betty had meant them.  But this time my eyebrows shot up with mounting incredulity, in utter amazement, in total stupefaction... – What was that, dear little red pen?  You think I’m overdoing it?  Nah! – penlike Snort!

With something like nostalgia, I remember my days as a student, "far away" from home (about 480 km/300 miles). – Ok, I had worked at a place more than ten times that distance from home before but that was different. – Anyway, I always had enough money during those days but I tried to keep expenses down to a minimum so I could afford the train ride home during holidays, between semesters, or for the odd weekend.  (Hey, that’s almost like a Neels heroine!)  I bought a lot of my groceries at discount stores, back when discount stores did completely without frills or brand names.  The cheapest pasta, the cheapest cheese, the cheapest bread... You get the picture.

If only I had known, back then, that there was another way to save money on groceries, a way that would help me keep up appearances and eat like a king at the same time...

But then, the book I could have used as a guide would not be written for more than a decade.

Eulalia‘s Shopping List

Earl Grey
cheap tea bags
the finest coffee beans
tin of instant coffee
Cooper‘s marmalade

sugar
flour
Bath Olivers

farm butter
butter substitute
Brie
Port Salut cheese
a few slices of the finest bacon
streaky bacon
lamb cutlets, a couple
chicken breast
lamb’s kidneys
minced beef
some sausages
potatoes
cabbage
celery
carrots
grapes

If this is what Eulalia buys when pay day is a week away and the housekeeping purse is almost empty, then I don’t want to see what’s on her shopping list on pay day and the days thereafter. In fact, I am no longer surprised their housekeeping purse is almost empty at this point.

"She frowned as she spoke; pay day was still a week away and the housekeeping purse was almost empty. The Colonel's pension was just enough to pay for the maintenance of the house and Jane's wages; her own wages paid for food and what Jane called keeping up appearances [...]

"'That's a mercy. Now, Miss Lally, you do your shopping; I'll hang out the washing—see if you can get a couple of those small lamb cutlets for the Colonel and a bit of steak for us—or mince. I'll make a casserole for us and a pie if there's enough...'

"Eulalia got her coat from the hall and fetched a basket and sat down at the table to count the contents of her purse.  A week to pay day so funds were low.

"'It had better be mince,' she said.  'It's cheaper.'  And then she added, 'I hate mince...'

"She looked up and saw that Jane was smiling — not at her but at someone behind her. Mr van der Leurs was standing in the doorway holding the coffee tray. 'Delicious coffee,' he observed, 'And I was delighted to meet the Colonel.'  [...]

"Mr van der Leurs, without appearing to do so, noted that she bought Earl Grey, the finest coffee beans, Bath Olivers, farm butter, Brie and Port Salut cheese, Cooper's marmalade and a few slices of the finest bacon; and, these bought, she added cheap tea bags, a tin of instant coffee, a butter substitute, sugar and flour and streaky bacon. It was the same at the butcher's, where she bought lamb cutlets, a chicken breast, lamb's kidneys and then minced beef and some sausages.  He hadn't gone into the shop with her but had stood outside, apparently studying the contents of the window.  At the greengrocer's he followed her in to take the basket while she bought potatoes and a cabbage, celery, carrots and a bunch of grapes.
 
"'We make our own bread,' said Eulalia, bypassing the baker.

"Mr van der Leurs, keeping his thoughts to himself, made light-hearted conversation as they returned to the house.  It was evident to him that living was on two levels in the Colonel's house, which made it a sensible reason for him to marry her as quickly as possible."

It is sooo sweet of Eulalia and Jane to scrape and scrimp just so that the Colonel won’t know how bad the state of their finances really is, to let him enjoy the creature comforts he is used to probably all his life.  I don’t know what I would have done in their stead.  I am very much afraid I would have been a bit more of a realist and would have introduced meals to the Colonel’s menu that would have been a little easier on the housekeeping kitty.

 

Quick Quiz - Yay Betty AnoninTX; Hints Added for #3

Courtesy of my English brother-in-law, who seems to have dug into the oeuvre.  Please, no web-searches for book quotes; just answer as best you can from your standing knowledge of the World of Betty:

#1)  In which Betty does our plucky heroine consider "Michael Caine and Kojak" (!?!?) the pinnacles of masculinity?
WINNER:  Betty AnoninTX!  Expect a prize from Fortnum and Mason to arrive soon, assuming you've ordered yourself a Christmas present therefrom.

#1a)  Whom do you consider to be the pinnacles of masculinity?




#2)  In which Betty does our plucky heroine get covered in chips (french fried potatoes)?
WINNER:  Betty AnoninTX!  Ditto on the F&M.


 #2a)  What is the most distressing thing in which you, or your favorite hero or heroine, have ever been covered?














#3)  In which Betty does our plucky heroine own a dog named Rough?
HINTS:  Our plucky heroine gains Rough as part of her MOC.  There is no celebration of Christmas in the book.  The title is poetic.

#3a)  Have you ever accidentally named a dog something you couldn't shout easily when s/he escaped the lead whilst gamboling in the park?

Meet Me Under The Mistletoe Kiss

Gracious!  Look at the date!  What with decking my halls and wedging myself into a corner of an overstuffed hotel ballroom for the Jonkheer’s office holiday party, doing ankle-strengthening exercises for the threatened ice-skating at my own office holiday party and berating dilatory family members for their failures to produce either travel plans or Christmas wish lists, I’ve fallen behind on the Christmas-scene re-caps.  For the fourth of six times, let me just note the finalists for the upcoming TUJD Best Christmas Ever (2012 version) vote:

Damsel in Green (1970)

Caroline's Waterloo  (1980)

A Girl to Love (1982)

When Two Paths Meet  (1988)

The Mistletoe Kiss  (1997)

A Christmas Romance  (1999)

The Mistletoe Kiss actually opens in October, with Ermentrude Foster and Ruerd ter Mennolt meeting for the first time over his desk at St. Luke’s hospital.  As autumn strolls toward winter, they get off to a bad start, rectify that over boiled eggs, rescue a kitten, adopt a dog, and so forth.  Ruerd’s rude and unkind fiancée suggests he throw a Christmas party, and Emmy begins knitting a pullover for her father’s Christmas present.  Mr. Foster gets a job offer, engineered by Ruerd, that will allow him, the Mrs. and Emmy to spend Christmas in Dorset, where they belong, rather than in noisome, crowded, dingy London.  But before that can happen, Emmy must get hit in the head by housebreakers, and Mum and Dad must discover that the Dorset plumbing is faulty and the house over-burdened with the previous owner’s furnishings, which sad setting for a convalescent Christmas inspires Ruerd to invite the whole clan over to Huis ter Mennolt.

And then we get truly festive.  The Fosters and Ruerd decorate the tree together, topping it with a fairy doll that his youngest niece will receive as a gift after the holiday, and Emmy and Ruerd deck the nursery walls with paper chains before a bevy of siblings arrive with their children (so important an element of a true, old-fashioned Christmas, right?) in tow.  There’s shouting and laughing, racing, dog-hugging and uncle-hanging-onto.  Twenty people sit down to dinner, with white lace and sparkling glass and polished silver surrounding an epergne filled with holly, Christmas roses and trailing ivy.  You may imagine the menu.

Next day is Christmas Eve, with the promise of snow in the air, a brisk walk, tea by the fire with Christmas cake and another magnificent menu (roast pheasant tonight).  “Christmas Day proved to be everything it should be”: church in the morning, with carols albeit in Dutch, then presents after lunch.  Emmy gets a “blue cashmere scarf, the colour of a pale winter sky” that will remind her of the professor every time she wears it.

And the mistletoe of the title?

“She turned to go back upstairs again.  ‘I ought to be changing,’ she said quickly.  ‘Thank you for my scarf. I've never had anything cashmere before.’

“He didn't say anything, but wrapped his great arms round her and kissed her.

“She was so taken by surprise that she didn't do anything for a moment.  She had no breath anyway.  The kiss hadn't been asocial peck; it had lingered far too long. And besides, she had the odd feeling that something was alight inside her, giving her the pleasant feeling that she could float in the air if she wished.  If that was what a kiss did to one, she thought hazily, then one must avoid being kissed again.

“She disentangled herself.  ‘You shouldn't…’ she began. ‘What I mean is, you mustn't kiss me. Anneliese wouldn't like it…’

“He was staring down at her, an odd look on his face. ‘But you did, Ermentrude?’

She nodded.  ‘It's not fair to her,’ she said, and then, unable to help herself, asked, ‘Why did you do it?’

“He smiled.  ‘My dear Ermentrude, look up above our heads.  Mistletoe—see?  A mistletoe kiss, permissible even between the truest strangers. And really we aren't much more than that, are we?’

“He gave her an avuncular pat on the shoulder. ‘Run along and dress or you will be late for drinks.’  Emmy didn't say anything; her throat was crowded with tears and she could feel the hot colour creeping into her face.  She flew up the staircase without a sound. Somewhere to hide, she thought unhappily.  He was laughing at me.

“But the professor wasn't laughing.”

Not an entirely unmixed Christmas for Emmy, then.  But, as Grandmother ter Mennolt says, “I must confess that I prefer the quiet of my room, but it is Christmas and one must make merry!”  Which seems to involve stuffing oneself with bonhomie, turkey and mince pies, although as a cousin ter Mennholt notes, “‘Of course, not all Dutch families celebrate as we do here.  This is typically English, is it not?  But you see we have married into English families from time to time, and this is one of the delightful customs we have adopted.’”  And after that, we have some lovely wintery time with children and pea soup, blow hot-blow cold professorial nonsense and bitter-twisted-fiancée/ex-fiancée-lies, escape plans and loin-girding to arrive at the eventual HEA on the beach with a bitter wind slicing into our snogging bones.

What Would You Give Betty for Her Birthday?

What would one give Betty for her birthday?  I noodled on this thought a bit as I drove the socking un-great Honda Ellicott City-wards last weekend.  Betty rarely offered her heroines much in the way of imagination on gift-giving occasions.  Say it with me, everyone:  gloves, scarves, chocolates, cigars, handkerchiefs.  Brooches.  Small leather goods other than gloves.  Every now and then a small painting sneaks its way in, or a puppy, or a silver mouse tchotchke.  I confess I like my gifts to be fairly personalized, but as Betty seems to shy away from the emotionally-resonant present (that’s a double entendre), I considered:

A first edition of Jane Eyre, priced at $35,000 or €27,000 or £22,000

A more-demure-than-I-thought-commercially-available pink silk tea dress from Liberty of London.

A tweed jacket from Jaeger, in shades of pink and blue

A bottle of Harvey’s Bristol Cream Sherry, for imbibing directly or sprinkling over the trifle.

Inspired by BettyAnoninTX, a tea hamper

An antique lace hanky from Devon.

Or, I might take her jet-packing, which was the Jonkheer’s gift to me on my most recent birthday.  That’s actually one of my favorite gifts of all time.

I do like lace hankies, though -- the one above costs £175 or €220 or $282 -- and someday I shall treat myself to one of those F&M hampers.  Or maybe their rose-and-chocolate cocoa mix.

Thanks for the tip, Betty von Susie.  A Louise Green hat would indeed be a great gift; maybe this pinkish number:

Although given Betty’s preference for all things British, we might need to stick with Philip Treacey:

Betty Keira votes for an oil painting appropriate to a Devon cottage:

And Betty AnoninTX goes for pink roses (from a local Devon florist) and a kitten:

This little one is available for adoption -- you probably know that rescue cats are usually older; this one was born in May, and all its brothers have been adopted...