History

Valhallaween

Author: Kirsten K., Author: Kirsti K., Crafts, History, Holidays

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As told in the Eddas and myths of Old Norse,
A battlefield hosts a concealed female force.
These ladies of lore have a critical role
In choosing the home of a warrior’s soul.

To Odin or Freya they act as a guide,
Ascending the heavens as in Wagner’s “Ride,”
Conveying slain heroes to hall or to field
And leading the way with a fierce maiden’s shield.

Valhallaween.
But once they arrive, let the feasting begin,
With tankards of mead shared among godly kin,
Until this formidable feminine corps
Is summoned again by perpetual war.

So on this occasion when spirits roam free,
You might catch a glimpse of a winged Valkyrie
Awaiting new souls from the great in-between
And stalking the night on this Valhallaween.
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🛡️⚔️ Happy Halloween, Swooners! 🍺🎃

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Valkyrie image based on a silhouette by Warmtail and carved using tools from Pumpkin Masters.

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My Fare Lady

Author: Kirsten K., Books, Food & Drink, History, Literature, Nostalgia, Recipes

More than 25 years ago, I was browsing the book selection from Amazon—yes, 25 years and no, not that Amazon—and came across an intriguing entry: The Captain’s Lady Cookbook & Personal Journal, 1837-1917, Vol. II: The Love Story, which included the following description:

“This is an amazing look at the life of a well-to-do woman who combined her diary, recipes, shopping lists, thoughts and dreams into her personal journal. The charm is indescribable. Recipes and a love story.”

I added it by hand to my printed order form, along with a reproduction Regency dress pattern, a pair of cotton ladies stockings, a handful of faux tortoise hair pins, and a bottle of Devon Violet eau de toilette. For me, the original mail order Amazon was Amazon Drygoods: “Purveyor of Items for the 19th Century Impression.” Their seasonal 100-page catalogs, with tiny print filling every page, put J. Peterman to shame and took weeks to peruse thoroughly.

Having developed a passion for historical romance in high school, I was eager to learn more about the clothing and customs of the 1800s, and Amazon Drygoods was the place to do so, supplying books, materials, and reproduction items for history enthusiasts and reenactors.

The Captain’s Lady Cookbook & Personal Journal was a real find—literally. Editor Barbara Dalia Jasmin found it at a tag sale in the early 1960s and paid 25 cents for its 300+ ultra-thin pages handwritten in copperplate script by the young wife of a Massachusetts ship’s captain in the mid-19th century. Although the entire journal comprises the period from 1837-1917, Ms. Jasmin chose to publish “The Love Story” first, which begins with the diarist’s marriage to her beloved captain on March 18, 1857 and covers the first 17 years of their lives together. Of his imminent departure on the clipper ship The Golden Fleece two months after their wedding, she writes, “I would choose to wait for him rather than for any other man in the entire world.”

Among traditional New England-style recipes such as Baked Indian Pudding and Washington Pie Cake are directions for making washing fluids, cough syrup, a digestive aid, and a dressing for the hair; lists of shopping items needed, wedding gifts received, and shipping cargo inventoried; “humour,” quotes, and poems (some by the author herself); mention of notable events (the end of the Civil War, the death of Abraham Lincoln); and stories of personal tragedy, like the loss of her brother at sea and the suicide by drowning of her cousin Jane. But there are also meditations on nature, family, faith, and, most of all, her undying love for her captain.

Instead of saying goodbye when he left for a voyage, the captain would tell his lady, “I think I shall sail across the Bay, but I shall be back in time for a piece of your special lemon pie.” She writes that, “When his return was imminent, I would make a lemon pie almost every day…Then, that special day arrived…My Captain would stride through the door…and say playfully, ‘Well, my Lady, isn’t that lemon pie ready yet?’” For their third anniversary, he gave her a gold pin and matching ring encrusted with precious stones. “Laid in succession, the first letter of each stone spells the word ‘Dearest.’ Diamond, emerald, amethyst, ruby, emerald, sapphire, and topaz.” O Captain! My Captain!

Reproduction of a page from the original manuscript of The Captain’s Lady Cookbook.

Amazon Drygoods noted that “Vol. I will be next in the series with a total of 9.” But—though Vol. II was first published in 1981 and the copyright page of the book states: “Vol I The Early Years 1837 – 1857 to be published October 9, 1983” and “Vol III The Children From the Sea 1863 in preparation”—I have never seen another book in the series published. These days, The Captain’s Lady Cookbook & Personal Journal can only be found from secondhand bookstores and select online vendors. I don’t know if something befell Ms. Jasmin or where the original journal resides today, but I do know that it’s a document of historical and human significance that should be preserved for posterity.

As Valentine’s Day approaches, you can indulge in this captivating cookbook and swoon-worthy story of true love by reading the digitized version online for free at the link below, but you’ll want your own copy to flip through whenever you need help navigating the rough seas of life and love. The Captain and his Lady demonstrate kindness to each other, respect for family, courage in adversity, celebration of life, and, above all else, a deep and abiding love—qualities we could use more of in THIS day and age. So open this present from the past to chart a course (and courses!) for your own happily ever after, and “fare” thee well.


Stuff Worthy Of Our Notice™️ in this post:

The Captain’s Lady Cookbook & Personal Journal

 

Original copies of The Captain’s Lady Cookbook are available for purchase at Abe Books, Amazon.com, and eBay, along with other versions.

 

Phantom Thread

Author: Kirsten K., Books, Entertainment, History, Literature, Nostalgia, Theatre

On this day in 1986, Andrew Lloyd Webber’s The Phantom of the Opera premiered in London’s West End, beginning its theatrical journey around the world and into the record books as the longest running show in Broadway history,* but it wasn’t until years later that I first fell under the Phantom’s spell. I heard The Music of the Night while watching Brian Boitano skate his signature routine on a frozen pond in some long-forgotten television special, but I could not forget the song.

From that moment, The Phantom of the Opera began to weave a ghostly thread through my life. I promptly purchased the Original London Cast Recording of the musical and—as Kirsti can attest—learned every word and every note. That year, I dressed as the Phantom for Halloween (when I couldn’t find his trademark half-mask, I made my own) and held out the vain hope of traveling to New York City to see the show on Broadway, but when the touring production finally came to Los Angeles, tickets were so in-demand and expensive that I couldn’t afford one!

I was in school at the time and supplemented my meager income by babysitting. When I was asked to watch the children of a couple who were going to the theater, I was both excited and envious to discover that they were seeing The Phantom of the Opera. I was also secretly resentful: as season ticket holders, they were merely going to see the latest show, whereas I—a TRUE “phan”—was stuck watching the kids. But they brought me back one of the free programs, which I read cover-to-cover and still have to this day.

I eventually saw the show for the first time with my family, and it was both phantastic and anti-climactic, as such long-awaited moments tend to be, but it rekindled my childhood love of musicals and gave me a new appreciation for live theater—another thread that continues to twine its way through my life.

During The Phantom of the Opera’s historic 4½-year run in Los Angeles, the theater began to offer upper balcony (aka “nosebleed”) seats to students for just $15, so I went there every few months to see the show, taking a different friend or co-worker with me each time and delighting in their reactions to the phanfare. Serendipitously, I happened to be there on the night of Davis Gaines’s 100th performance as the Phantom, as well as the time he surpassed Michael Crawford as the longest-running Phantom. In addition to various touring productions and Phantom – The Las Vegas Spectacular, I’ve seen the show almost 20 times, which is a modest number, considering the 100+ times that some phanatics have seen it.

As most people are aware, the stage production is based on the French novel Le Fantôme de l’Opéra by Gaston Leroux, but it was largely the musical that inspired a wave of phanfic in the ensuing years, the first—and, arguably, the best—of which is Phantom by Susan Kay. This year marks both the 110th anniversary of the publication of Leroux’s classic novel† and the 30th anniversary of  the release of Susan Kay’s reimagining of the tale, which follows the disfigured genius Erik from his birth all the way through the dramatic events at the Paris Opera.

There are other threads in my life that have spun off from the original—books I’ve read, movies I’ve seen, music I’ve played, friends I’ve made, and places I’ve traveled as a result of my introduction to the Phantom. When I started piano lessons as an adult, the first song I learned to play was The Music of the Night. I’ve studied both voice and French, the latter culminating in a trip to Paris, where I visited the Palais Garnier and stood outside Box 5, a favorite haunt of the O.G.‡

The Phantom of the Opera unspooled more of its own thread to produce both a film version and a sequel to the original stage production called Love Never Dies, which—despite its lush sets and some truly beautiful music—was not well received by either critics or audiences (much the way an unseen monster is more frightening when conjured in the mind’s eye, an unfulfilled love story is more intriguing when left to the imagination).

Some threads become worn with time and need to be stored away to protect them, but every once in a while I like to pull gently at the Phantom thread, revisiting the musical and hearing those haunting melodies again, allowing them to weave their spectral spell once more.


Stuff Worthy Of Our Notice™ in this post:

The Phantom of the Opera

 

*The Phantom of the Opera is the longest running show in Broadway history to date, but another blockbuster may come along someday to push the Phantom off its pedestal.

†Le Fantôme de l’Opéra by Gaston Leroux was serialized in the French newspaper Le Gaulois beginning in 1909, but was officially published in volume form in March of 1910.

‡The Phantom signs his letters O.G. for “Opera Ghost.”

 

Sisi Fuss

Author: Kirsten K., Beauty, Fine Art, History, The Arts

Kirsti and I have not written much for the blog this summer, and over the past month I haven’t felt like swooning over anything except the oppressive heat, but I’ve been roused today from my self-imposed sabbatical to commemorate, of all things, an assassination.

On September 10, 1898—120 years ago today—Empress Elisabeth of Austria, known familiarly as “Sisi” (i.e. sissy), was stabbed in the chest by a disgruntled anarchist (is there any other kind?) as she was about to board a steamship in Geneva, Switzerland. In the chaos of the attack, neither she nor her lady-in-waiting realized what had happened until Sisi collapsed and was carried aboard ship, where her tight corset laces, which had been stanching the flow of blood, were cut open to help her breathe…and that was all she wrote.

Empress Elisabeth of Austria by Franz Xaver Winterhalter, 1865.

Years ago, when I’d grown my hair below my waist and was in thrall to trailing tresses, I encountered a painting of Sisi by famed royal portraitist Franz Xaver Winterhalter and developed an adult case of Princess Syndrome. In the painting, Sisi’s famously long, thick hair is unbound and flowing down her back while one creamy shoulder is exposed by the drape of a sumptuous gown. I was enchanted, and thus began my fascination with this complicated consort.

Sisi’s marriage to Franz Joseph I of Austria initially seemed like a fairytale. His mother had arranged for him to marry his cousin, Sisi’s older sister Helene, but when then-Princess Elisabeth joined Helene and their mother to meet the young Emperor for the first time, he only had eyes for Sisi. In a rare display of defiance against his domineering mother, Franz Joseph declared that he’d marry none but Elisabeth, and their betrothal was announced five days later.

This Winterhalter portrait from 1864 was Franz Joseph’s favorite painting of his wife.

The courtship and marriage were highly romanticized in the 1955 film Sissi,* but real life did not lead to a happily ever after. From the beginning, Sisi chafed at the strictures of court life, compounded by the open disdain of her overbearing mother-in-law, who took charge of raising Sisi’s two daughters and is rumored to have threatened her over not producing a male heir. By the time Sisi gave birth to a son, her first child had already died of illness, and she’d fallen into a depression that plagued her throughout her life.

Her misery manifested as a number of (likely) psychosomatic ailments and an obsession with weight and beauty involving extreme exercise and fasting regimens, daily cold showers, and hours spent brushing and styling her hair. But despite her neuroses and melancholy, Sisi was intelligent and curious, taking delight in defying convention and shocking those in her stifling milieu. She spoke several languages, was an avid reader, and had a passionate thirst for knowledge that led to wanderlust in her later years, but the death of her only son at the age of 30 in a murder-suicide with his mistress was the final blow from which she never emotionally recovered.

Winterhalter’s famous 1865 portrait of Sisi wearing crystal hair pins and a tulle gown covered with shimmering foil stars.

During her 44 years as Empress of Austria, Sisi found periods of solace by visiting Hungary, of which she was also queen through her marriage, and showed a clear preference for that country and its people. While this angered many Austrians, she remained a subject of fascination and was lauded for her charitable works and sympathy with the common man. When she was assassinated at age 60, Sisi was deeply mourned throughout the Austro-Hungarian Empire, an area that continues to make a fuss over her to this day.†

Kirsti traveled to Vienna a few years ago, where she visited the Sisi Museum in the Hofburg Imperial Palace and scored me several choice items of “Sisiana,” including syrup and jelly, tea and truffles, and a beautiful reproduction of one of the crystal starburst hair pins that adorn Sisi’s coiffure in Winterhalter’s most famous portrait of her. I have also ordered Sisi-themed chocolates (surprisingly delicious) and sparkling wine from Austria that arrived on my doorstep faster than many orders I’ve placed in the U.S.

While I enjoy using these items and admiring Sisi’s portrait on my wall (a gift from my cousin), I try not to lose sight of an enduring lesson. The irony and tragedy of celebrating Sisi for her beauty is that she derived her self-worth from her looks, which were doomed to fade over time. And though it would be easy to dismiss her as a pampered, vain royal who cared only about her appearance and didn’t appreciate the good fortune her status afforded, her story is a reminder that beauty, money, and position are no protection against adversity and heartache.

After learning about the lady beyond the canvas, I no longer have Princess Syndrome. People from all walks of life can experience tragedy and self-doubt, and every woman should know that she’s valued for more than just physical attractiveness, her spouse, or a title. The freedom to pursue your own purpose is a privilege, and it turns out that marrying into royalty is not all it’s cracked up to be (I’m looking at you, Hallmark Channel!).

But I still really love that hair.‡


Stuff Worthy Of Our Notice in this post:

Empress Elisabeth of Austria

 

Sissi* chocolates and sparkling wine can be ordered online from Austrian Shop, but be aware that availability is often unreliable.

 

*Sisi’s nickname is often misspelled as Sissi in film, literature, the performing arts, retail, and various other areas.

†Sisi might remind you of another beautiful and beloved princess whose unhappiness with her marriage, royal restrictions, and public scrutiny led to depression, low self-esteem, and an eating disorder, but also sparked a streak of defiance, an interest in philanthropic endeavors, and an affinity for the common people that led to an outpouring of grief upon her untimely death.

‡Franz Winterhalter also painted a famous portrait of another beautiful aristocrat with fabulous hair.

 

Royal Tea

Author: Kirsti Kay, Food & Drink, History, Hot Drinks, Nostalgia, Pop Culture, Tea

I remember when Princess Diana married Prince Charles. I got up in the middle of the night to watch the wedding on TV. It was the most spectacular wedding I had ever seen. That giant dress, the huge church filled with people, Diana’s perfectly feathered hair…I swooned and wondered what it would be like to be a princess.

Years later, I watched the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton, also so lovely, with William in his red splendor, Kate in her modest, yet elegant, dress, and Pippa minding the train. The wedding was like a tasty British fairytale.

In 2011, master tea blenders Harney & Sons were commissioned to create a bespoke tea for the wedding of William and Kate. Now, with the impending nuptials of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle on May 19th, the tea is back!

Royal Wedding Tea is a white tea blended with pink rosebuds, cornflowers, marigold petals, and coconut and vanilla flavors. It is as beautiful as it is delicious. Flecks of pink rose petals are offset by the blue of the cornflowers and specks of marigold. The mild taste of the white tea is enhanced by the floral notes, and the addition of the vanilla and coconut give it a unique flavor that is fit for a princess, a duchess (Meghan Markle will be given the title Duchess of Sussex after the wedding), or even a girl from the Valley (me!).*

Come May 19th, I look forward to getting up in the middle of the night wearing my most regal pajamas, brewing a pot of Royal Wedding Tea, and shoving my face with scones, jam, and clotted cream. I might never be a princess or a duchess, but now I can drink tea like one, and that’s good enough for me.


Stuff Worthy Of Our Notice™ in this post:

Harney & Sons Royal Wedding Tea

 

The tin of sachets featured in this post is currently out of stock on the Harney & Sons website, but the loose tea is still available for purchase, so grab your share and a spare, or you may have to abdicate your chance to try this tea until the next royal wedding.

 

*I just found out that the future Duchess of Sussex is also a Valley girl, having grown up in Kirsten’s and my hometown of Woodland Hills. Like, OMG!

 

Drear Diary

Author: Kirsten K., Books, History, Literature

On March 9, 1992, a former scrap metal dealer rang up a London literary agent and asked the question that would upend one of the most enduring mysteries of the previous century: “I’ve got Jack the Ripper’s diary. Would you be interested in seeing it?” The story that followed was almost as convoluted and contentious as the search for Jack the Ripper itself, involving forensic and psychological analyses, confessions and retractions, infighting among “Ripperologists,” the intersection of two sensational murder cases, and the curious appearance of a pocket watch that may have belonged to the killer.*

At the time, I was getting my degree in psychology and had a particular interest in the minds and motivations of serial killers (not an especially swoon-worthy topic, unless by “swoon” you mean “pass out from fright”). I read about the diary in the newspaper shortly before its publication in 1993 and got a copy for my birthday later that year. Until then, I’d only had a passing interest in the mystery of Jack the Ripper, but after reading the diary I became well and truly hooked.

Over the years, I’ve read numerous books on the subject and spent hours on forums like Casebook: Jack the Ripper going over various theories about the killer’s identity, but the majority of posters seemed to dismiss the diary as an elaborate hoax. While it is one of the most fascinating documents I’ve ever read, the diary has been dogged from the beginning by persistent questions about its authenticity and the dubious manner in which it was discovered. When the man who made that extraordinary phone call eventually confessed to forging the diary, the skeptics were smug, but even though few believed he had the necessary skills to pull it off and he later retracted his confession (then changed his story again), the damage was done. Most experts agreed that the diary was likely a forgery, and they returned to their furious speculation about the identity of Jack the Ripper.

But I’d never been able to shake my conviction that the alleged author of the diary—Liverpool cotton merchant James Maybrick—was the real killer. For years, family and friends have had to put up with my repeated discussions and dissection of the diary, as well as the trial of Florence Maybrick, the young wife of James Maybrick who, in an ironic twist, was convicted of murdering her husband in 1889.

Despite the doubters, nobody has been able to prove that the diary was forged. Comparable hoaxes, such as the Hitler diaries, have been uncovered quickly, but as the years passed without a similar revelation about the Ripper diary, my belief in its legitimacy only strengthened. A forger would have had to be an expert in both the Jack the Ripper killings and the Maybrick murder trial, the psychology of a serial killer, the symptoms of arsenic addiction, and the composition and style of Victorian-era paper, ink, and writing. A person like that would surely have come forward at some point to take credit for this monumental feat, but no credible forger has stepped up or been exposed.

Then, this past summer, it was announced that a new book about the diary would be released in September proving that it was an authentic 19th-century document that had been traced directly to James Maybrick himself. I was unable to obtain one of the 500 limited edition copies of this book, but it claims to present two primary findings:

  1. In-depth forensic analysis of the diary dates it definitively to the late 1800s, rejecting the theory that it’s a modern forgery.
  2. Research has revealed that, during a 1992 renovation of Battlecrease House (home of James Maybrick at the time of the murders), the diary was discovered beneath the floorboards of Maybrick’s own bedroom by three workmen, one of whom knew the infamous caller.

Given that the diary contains details about the murders that could only have been known by the killer and police at the time, these revelations make the strongest case yet that James Maybrick and Jack the Ripper are one and the same.

True skeptics will remain unconvinced, because there is an entire industry that has sprung up around the Ripper riddle and people are invested in maintaining the mystery, but after stumping seekers for almost 130 years, I’m more confident than ever that this case is closed.


Stuff Worthy Of Our Notice™ in this post:

The Diary of Jack the Ripper

 

The limited edition facsimile of the diary with updates from its owner, Robert Smith, is currently sold out, but you can email the publisher, Mango Books, and request to be informed if/when it is reprinted.

 

*The story of the watch is almost as intriguing as the diary itself. For a more thorough description of the discovery and analysis of the Maybrick watch, read Ripper Diary.

 

Pluff Piece

Author: Kirsten K., Coffee, Food & Drink, History, Hot Drinks, Tea

This date is steeped in history. Two hundred and forty-four years ago today, trouble was brewing in Boston Harbor as colonists, angry about the British Parliament’s recent tax on tea, boarded ships of the East India Company and tossed chests of imported tea into the water. To commemorate this act of defiance against taxation without representation, you can now host your own Boston Tea Party with American heritage teas from Oliver Pluff & Co.

A purveyor of historic beverages, Oliver Pluff offers Colonial teas and remedies, pressed tea bricks, coffee, toddy mixes, and other early American potables. I wrote about their cacao shell tea last year, which now comes in a mint mixture that is perfect for seasonal sipping. Also apt for the holidays are their wassail mulling blends for making spiced wine and cider.

Among a variety of themed collections is a Teas of the Boston Tea Party gift box, featuring five teas that were popular in 18th-century America. A favorite of colonists was Bohea, a blend of pekoe and souchong teas with a strong, smoky flavor that will have you yelling, “Boo-hee!”

Taxes are once again on everyone’s mind, so after you stand up to make your voice heard on the issue, sit down to enjoy a cup of Colonial coffee or tea and celebrate the freedom to participate in representative government. There’s still time to treat yourself or someone on your list to a taste of history this holiday season with a gift from Oliver Pluff.

Leaf and bean come to you, and to you your wassail too, and we bless you and send you a Happy New Year. Cheers! ☕


Stuff Worthy Of Our Notice™ in this post:

Oliver Pluff & Co.

 

Green Fairy Tale

Author: Kirsten K., Cocktails, Drinks, Entertainment, Food & Drink, History, Movies, Recipes, Spirits

Twenty-five years ago today, Bram Stoker’s Dracula was released in theaters. Being a fangirl (emphasis on “fang”), I flew out to see it, but amidst the gore and gothic romance, one scene sank its teeth into me:

Count Dracula fills a glass with green liquid, then pours water from a carafe over a sugar cube, which rests on an intricate silver spoon suspended atop the glass. He tells Mina, “Absinthe is the aphrodisiac of the self. The green fairy who lives in the absinthe wants your soul, but you are safe with me.” Mina takes the sugar cube and sucks on it with a look of ecstasy on her face.

Needless to say, I swooned.

For the past decade, absinthe has been enjoying a revival, but back in 1992, I hadn’t heard of it. The public Internet was in its infancy, so I had to do some old-fashioned library research in order to learn more about this mysterious drink. I discovered that it was a fashionable libation in Gilded Age Paris that was purported to have psychedelic properties and had been credited with inspiring great works of impressionist art, literature, and music.

It had also been illegal in the United States since 1915.

Absinthe is a potent alcoholic drink featuring a mixture of botanicals, including sweet anise, fennel, lemon balm, star anise, and peppermint. One primary ingredient is grande wormwood, an herb containing high levels of thujone, long thought to be responsible for absinthe’s mind-altering effects. Due to its transformational nature and the vivid emerald shade of the liquid, drinking absinthe became known as “romancing the green fairy.” It was believed to be highly addictive and, in the lead-up to Prohibition, took the blame for many social problems of the day.

The forbidden always seems more exotic, so I plotted to get my hands on a bottle, but years passed without success. I traveled to New Orleans in the spring of 2000 and visited the site of the Old Absinthe Bar where, ironically, there was not a drop of absinthe to be had due to the continued ban on its importation, but I was not the only one who’d caught absinthe fever. That same year, a product called Absente was released in America. Marketed as the first legal absinthe in the U.S. since the ban, it was made using a process similar to the original 19th-century versions, replacing the wormwood with southernwood and adding sugar.

I immediately purchased a bottle, along with their matching absinthe-style glasses and spoons. Still infatuated with the ritual that I’d seen at the cinema and read about in my research, I reverently set up my glass and spoon, placing the sugar cube just so, then carefully poured ice-cold water over the sugar and into the glass of Absente. I watched, captivated, as they combined to create la louche—the magical alchemy that transforms clear, emerald-hued absinthe into the opaline shade of green milk glass. This was finally happening! I brought the glass to my lips and took a sip.

In the build-up to this moment, I’d never entertained the thought that anticipation of a thing is often greater than the thing itself. I had also failed to consider that absinthe contains two types of anise—a flavor I don’t favor. Further, I’d never been a fan of hard liquor. Even sweetened up and watered down, this brew was robust, to say the least. I could only choke down about half of the liquid.

Disappointed, but unbowed, I wasn’t quite ready to abandon my quest for true absinthe. Despite discovering that I didn’t dig this drink, I still yearned to experience the heady effects that had inspired artists like Van Gogh and Toulouse-Lautrec, and authors such as Oscar Wilde and Ernest Hemingway, so the search carried on and I continued to accrue absinthe accoutrements in anticipation.

Helping to keep the dream alive, absinthe was featured in two films released in 2001. The first was Baz Luhrmann’s Moulin Rouge!, in which several characters savor the spirit and subsequently hallucinate a green fairy in the form of Kylie Minogue. A few months later, I found myself once again in a movie theater staring up at a stunning bottle of absinthe in From Hell, when Johnny Depp’s character is simultaneously chasing the dragon and romancing the green fairy.

Eventually, Kirsti—who’d caught the absinthe bug from me—convinced a friend who was traveling to the Czech Republic to smuggle a bottle of genuine absinthe back to the U.S. for us. Bottle finally in hand, we set out our paraphernalia and prepared to imbibe. This was it.

Antique silver absinthe spoons are highly collectible, but these stainless steel versions are both beautiful and affordable.

I didn’t experience the same thrill I’d felt when preparing to partake of Absente for the first time, but we performed the revered ritual and drank up. I finished my entire glass and even had another, but as the evening progressed, I never felt more than a slight buzz from the alcohol—no symphonies heard, stanzas conceived, or scenes envisioned, and not a single flash of fairy wings.

The romance was officially over.

My absinthe-related supplies and books were relegated to a dusty shelf, while the bottle of contraband liquor languished in a cabinet. This would have been the end of the story if not for our friend Mika, who, in addition to being a trained opera singer and pastry chef, is a talented mixologist with a knack for dreaming up delicious drinks. She likes to rinse a glass with absinthe before constructing a cocktail, or incorporate a small measure in the mixture itself, imparting an almost floral note that I find enchanting. Like many a skilled composer, she doesn’t always transcribe her technique, but BuzzFeed compiled a convenient list of absinthe cocktails for those who don’t take their liquor neat—or too seriously.

Hidden within this vintage-inspired artwork by Robert Rodriguez are the names of Tempus Fugit’s absinthes.

If you have the heart of a true absintheur, you’re in luck! Absinthe was officially legalized in the United States in 2007, leading to a flood of options for enthusiasts. Absente was reformulated to contain actual wormwood, and even Marilyn Manson got in on the game with his acclaimed version, Mansinthe.* Many are of high quality, but beware of imitations. I tried one that looked more like mouthwash than absinthe and did not form a louche when water and sugar were added. We at The Swoon Society are partial to Vieux Pontarlier, a pre-ban absinthe from Tempus Fugit Spirits, purveyors of luscious liqueurs in beautiful bottles.

Despite some conflict along the way, this green fairy tale has a happy ending, so raise a glass in cheers to a journey of 25 years, but skip the silver and opt for emerald…unless there are vampires about.


Stuff Worthy Of Our Notice™ in this post:

Absinthe

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Have you caught the bug? For detailed information about the history, ingredients, and ritual of absinthe, visit Absinthe Fever.

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*This reference hasn’t aged well, but I was blissfully naïve in my Teens.

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Fruits of Your Labor

Author: Kirsten K., Crafts, History, Holidays

fruit-pomanderI love homemade holiday decorations, especially those fashioned from natural materials. The scents of the season—evergreen, bayberry, cinnamon, cloves—muster memories, both real and imagined, of an old-fashioned Christmas. While the creative process is part of the pleasure, it’s always nice when you can preserve your handiwork to last for more than one season, which is why I enjoy making pomanders.

Traditionally, a pomander (from the French pomme d’ambre, meaning “apple of amber”) was an apple-shaped ball of sweetly-scented herbs and spices held together by ambergris. It was carried in a bag or encased within an ornate orb and suspended from the waist or neck. Used since the Middle Ages to mask unpleasant odors and prevent sickness due to “bad air,” pomanders among the wealthy were often made of gold or silver and encrusted with jewels, but by the 18th century they began to take the more common form of the clove-studded orange we know today.

pomander-ornamentIn addition to oranges, pomanders can be made from lemons, limes, apples, pears, or kumquats. If you want this fragrant fruit to remain ripe with scent, cover the entire surface with cloves, then roll it in a mixture of ground cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, ginger, and orris root powder. Allow the pomander to cure in the open air for a week and you’ll have an aromatic adornment that can last for years.

Pomanders lend themselves to all kinds of creative expression, so get inventive. For a sachet with cachet, use cloves to create patterns on the fruit, from simple lines and shapes to swirls and spirals, leaving some or most of the colorful skin visible. Tie a bow around the finished product and hang it on the tree, or pile several of the decorated fruits into a clear glass bowl for a sweet and spicy centerpiece.*

Pomanders are so easy to make that you can build an entire decorating scheme around them. If you take the necessary steps to properly preserve and care for them, you’ll enjoy the fruits of your labor all season long.

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Fruit Pomanders

 

For ease, I like to use the Williamsburg Pomander Ball Kit, which comes with cloves, preservative spices, ribbon, and detailed instructions, but do-it-yourselfers can use the following recipe (adapted from The Spice House):williamsburg-pomander-ball-kit

FRUIT POMANDERS

¾ cup orris root powder†
½ cup cinnamon
¼ cup ground cloves
2 Tbsp. ground nutmeg
2 Tbsp. ground ginger
whole cloves (about ¼ cup per fruit)
whole oranges, apples, pears, lemons, or limes

Working from the top in a circular manner, poke holes in the fruit with a toothpick or cake tester and insert cloves by the pointed end, pressing in. It will take 30 minutes to an hour (or more) to completely cover the fruit, so put on some holiday music, make a cup of tea or hot chocolate, and settle in to enjoy the process. I find the repetitive method to be meditative and relaxing, which is a nice antidote to the holiday hustle and bustle.

When the fruit is covered (or your design is completed), mix the spices and orris root together in a shallow bowl or ziplock bag and either roll or shake the fruit in the powder until thoroughly coated. Tap or brush off the excess and set out to dry for several days.

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The Williamsburg Pomander Ball Kit is not available online, but can be purchased from Williamsburg Celebrations by calling (757) 565-8642.

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*Sparsely decorated fruit pomanders won’t last as long as densely covered designs, so keep an eye out for mold.  To extend their life, put them in the refrigerator when not on display.

†Orris root is a member of the iris family. The powder is used as a fixative in perfumes and potpourri. It is available from Amazon and a number of online retailers.

 

Shell-Stocked

Author: Kirsten K., Food & Drink, History, Hot Drinks, Tea

cacao-shell-teaThis presidential campaign has left many Americans feeling shell-shocked. The divisive rhetoric, constant twists and turns, arguments among friends and family members, and contentious result have brought a new level of anxiety to an already incendiary topic. When I’m stressed, I usually deal with it by making myself a hot cup of tea, enjoying a bit of chocolate, and reading up on a favorite subject—such as American history—which is why I’ve been keeping my cabinets well-stocked with Martha Washington’s cacao shell tea.

The latest twist on drinking chocolate, cacao tea is actually a Colonial American tradition.martha-washington An invigorating brew made from roasted cacao shells, Martha Washington’s Chocolate Shell Infusion is as delicious today as it was during her tenure as First Lady. Cacao shells are the husks that encase cocoa beans before they are removed during chocolate production. When steeped in hot water (at least 10 minutes for optimal flavor), they create a tasty caffeine-free beverage with just a touch of chocolate’s natural stimulants, making it a great way to start the day or end the evening. According to the label, Martha Washington enjoyed sipping cacao shell tea at breakfast.

While the roasted shells have a similar aroma to brewed chocolate, the infusion has its own unique flavor profile. Cacao tea has a delicate bouquet and mild bitterness that is completely unlike hot cocoa or chocolate-flavored black teas, delivering the essence of chocolate without the richness or the jitters. For a treat that’s lighter than hot chocolate and won’t keep me up at night, I add a little milk and sweetener. When I want a more intense flavor, I heat the shells and water together on the stove for several minutes before straining into a teacup. It’s a versatile brew fit for both the White House* and your own house.

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It was tea that got this party—and these Parties—started, so why not host a post-election tea and serve Martha Washington’s Chocolate Shell Infusion? It may not contain any actual tea, but it might help you form a more perfect union, because whether you gather to celebrate or commiserate, cacao tea is sure to get the popular vote.

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Cacao Shell Tea

 

Martha Washington’s Chocolate Shell Infusion is available directly from the producer, Oliver Pluff & Company, which also makes a mint version.

 

*I am aware that Martha Washington never lived in the White House.