My ten days in Australia were magical. I had never imagined I would travel there, so apart from the Sydney Opera House and kangaroos, I didn’t hold any fixed images of what Australia might be or mean to me. Arriving without expectations left me open to experiencing each day’s offerings—beach walks, fish markets, Aboriginal art. At each turn there was a friendly face ready to welcome me to Australia and perhaps point me to my next adventure.
My culinary experiences were especially energizing. I tried new foods with “exotic” names like barramundi and freekeh. I ate the best breakfast of my life at Cornersmith in Sydney. Two years on, I think that I am most affected by the creative preparation of foods I already knew. I still remind myself to use ingredients in ways that are new to me, and my Mint Sunflower spread was developed in that spirit.
Inspired by Vladia Cobrodova’s Creamy Mint Pesto, my spread is summer fresh. It gets its creaminess from sunflower seeds and raw cashews. The potency of mint and Parmesan cheese stand up to one another and make for a surprisingly lovely pairing. Baby spinach and parsley round out the flavors. I serve this spread with pita chips and raw vegetables as an appetizer. It also works well as part of a main course that includes other dips and spreads. Thin it out with a few tablespoons of water and use it as a pesto in a bowl of pasta or drizzled over grilled vegetables or meat. Mint Sunflower Spread freezes beautifully and has brightened up many a dreary winter evening when I crave healthy, bright flavors.
Inspirations
Australian cookbooks: Cornersmith and A Whole New Way to Eat
Inspired by Vladia Cobrodova’s Creamy Mint Pesto, this spread freezes well, so consider making a double batch when mint is abundant.
Outdoor markets and picnics. Quintessential French experiences that join food, fellowship, and nature. Versailles is lucky to have some of the best farmers’ markets in the greater Paris area. So why not take advantage of the abundance and pair a morning market visit with a picnic lunch?
Marketing and picnicking require some forethought. First, check the weather forecast to assure that your picnic won’t be spoiled by rain. Then, think about supplies. I always travel with bamboo cutlery and a few tea towels, so I’m close to picnic-ready in Versailles. Another option is to drop by a local supermarket to pick up disposable cutlery, napkins, and plates.
Outdoor markets don’t take place every day, and they usually shut down in the early afternoon. Versailles’ main market, the Marché Notre-Dame, has distinct sections and schedules: the indoor part operates every day except Monday. The outdoor part runs on Tuesdays, Fridays, and Sundays. Sunday is undoubtedly the most beautiful market day, with the most vendors selling their produce. The Marché Notre-Dame is a few minutes’ walk from the Château.
The Marché Saint-Louis, held in front of the Cathedral on Thursday and Saturday mornings, is a vibrant part of the Saint-Louis neighborhood, a 10-15 minute stroll from the Château. Although both this market and the Marché Notre-Dame are frequented by locals, I have noticed that the Marché Saint-Louis is more quaint and less crowded.
Once you’ve equipped yourself for a picnic, you’ll need to select your ideal picnic spot. On the Château property, there is dedicated picnic space on the Plaine Saint Antoine, between the Château and Trianon Palaces. Picnicking is also allowed along the lower part of the Grand Canal, closest to the Château. Please note that glass bottles are not permitted in the Park, so all wine bottles will be confiscated at the security points as you enter. Access to the gardens and the picnic area is free of charge, except on Musical Fountains Shows and Musical Gardens Days. Make sure you check the schedule beforehand!
Another picnic option outside of the Estate is the Lake of the Swiss Guards, accessible from the rue de l’Indépendance Américaine.
Versailles Markets
Marché Notre-Dame, Place du Marché Notre-Dame
Indoor market—Les Halles
Tuesday-Saturday: 7:00 a.m.–7:30 p.m.
Sunday: 7:00 a.m.—2:00 p.m.
Outdoor market—Les Carrés Notre-Dame
Tuesday, Friday & Sunday—7:00 a.m.-2 :00 p.m.
Marché Saint-Louis—In front of the cathedral, Place Saint-Louis
Thursday & Saturday: 7:30 a.m.—1:30 p.m.
Flower Market—Avenue de Saint Cloud, across from carousel
Tuesday, Friday, Saturday: 8:00 a.m.—7:00 p.m.
Sunday: Morning
Spearing the kangaroo, Tommy Mcrae (detail)
Try this. Pull a book from the shelf, open it at random, and let your eyes fall where they will. What words jump out at you? Do they hold wisdom, hope, or even an answer to a question you’ve been pondering?
I often find unexpected messages in this way. It’s always a surprise when a seemingly random chain of words speaks to something that’s been on my mind. The Improvised Life blog features this practice in its Opened at Random posts. In his book on creativity, Phil Cousineau writes about engaging in bibliomancy in a Galway bookstore in hopes of finding inspiration. When messages leap from the page to my heart, I call this reading serendipitously.
As spring was about to emerge, I was yearning to re-ground myself in nature, but it was still too cold to spend much time outside. François Cheng’s meditation on the soul, De l’âme, spoke to my need to reconnect with the outdoors.
“Le lien entre l’arbre et les oiseaux semble naturel. Mais l’alliance de l’arbre avec les hommes est-elle assez prise en compte par nous ? Sommes-nous conscients que nous ne pouvons trouver dans la nature compagnon plus fiable et plus durable ? Cet être debout comme nous, qui depuis les profondeurs du sol tend résolument vers le haut, nous rappelle que notre être tient tout autant de la terre que du ciel” (118-119).
“The connection between tree and birds seems natural. But the union of tree with man, do we consider it enough? Are we aware that we can find no more reliable and durable companion? Like us, this upright being, who, from the depths of the soil stretches resolutely upwards, reminds us that our being holds just as much from the earth as from the sky.”
The Kentucky Derby has come and gone, and today is Mother’s Day. What plans do you have for your garden this year? The harvest of my beloved yet modest patio garden makes its way to bright, summer dishes and iced tea garnishes. The last few years I have made a spot for a gracious, yet spindly rose geranium. Scented geraniums are simultaneously old-fashioned and trendy. My favorite greenhouse sells not only rose geraniums, but chocolate mint geraniums, lime geraniums, and cinnamon geraniums. How to choose?
I usually settle for my standard rose geranium. When I am on my patio, I unfailingly rub a leaf between my thumb and forefinger, releasing a sweet and subtle rose scent. I love my rose geranium for this kinetic and olfactory interaction, and I also love to make rose geranium cake. This generous cake is dense and moist. Thin ribbons of geranium leaves lend texture and a gentle floral flavor, deepened by rose water. I serve this cake with Ceylon teas, which are not too assertive and allow the cake to shine.
This refreshingly old-fashioned recipe comes from Shelley and Bruce Richardson’s A Tea for All Seasons. I have made small modifications. I have found that different brands of rose water vary in strength, so tread lightly, especially when making your glaze. The 1/4 tsp rose water I use in the glaze is conservative. Add more if...
This week’s flames at Notre-Dame de Paris sunk us into collective grief and then unified us in hope, as we learned that much of the structure and most of the art had been saved. Many Gothic cathedrals have been lost to flames, but in their grace we forget their fragility.
Notre-Dame has stood on Paris’ Île de la Cité for the better part of 1,000 years. Having almost lost her, it is both sobering and gratifying to consider the cultural artifacts that last from generation to generation. So little survives: works of literature (many of them fragments), examples of religious sculpture, a little music, sacred buildings in varying states of disrepair. We hold on to these traces of western cultures, but to what end? Might it be better for us to loosen our grip on these tangible bits of our heritage?
Like many other French cathedrals, Notre-Dame de Paris honors the Virgin Mary. The most venerated feminine figure in the Christian tradition, she symbolizes a compassionate feminine power. Divine figures of other traditions represent this same quality—Guanyin and Tara in Buddhism and the goddess Kali in Hinduism, to name but a few. The sacred spaces we erect in their honor frame and focus the universal energy that we attribute to the divine, feminine figures. Sacred spaces help us to access these figures and the invisible power we’ve given to them.
Their energy is eternal though intangible. Do we even need to honor Mary, Kali, Guanyin, and other feminine figures with special spaces? Of course we do. But let us embrace the constantly changing nature of scared spaces. Cathedrals will crumble or burn. The generative emptiness they leave will make way for new or altered sacred structures.
And let’s remember that although places like Notre-Dame de Paris can change the course of our spiritual lives, the protective power of the Virgin Mary is by no means contained within a building. The knowledge that moves from generation to generation is indiscernible to the eye and revealed in the soul. Having grown up Catholic, I have always felt connected to Mary, but not because of a church. The rose is my most personal, profound reminder of Mary. Her flower is recalled in cathedrals’ rose windows, but for me the rose is entwined with family, with a Catholic upbringing, and with womanhood. I see roses everywhere, and Mary’s flower is always sure to unlock the healing, compassionate energy she embodies.
Inspirations
Another magnificent cathedral: Notre-Dame de Chartres
Clearing Space and evening walks
Rewriting a Symphony in Stone, by Summer Brennan
During a recent visit to a Central Kentucky flea market, I overheard a mother instructing her children: “These are antiques, so they are three times as expensive. Don’t touch anything.” Her words have been rolling around in my mind for a few days, and I must admit that I find antique and vintage pieces to be very reasonably priced. Why? For most people, “old” things are not desirable.
I am dazzled by my recent haul of “old” stuff. I brought home four vintage Limoges teacups—delicate, floral, and elegant. There are no chips, and the saucers are intact. I paid $9 each. I haven’t tried to date them or research the pattern, but I’m guessing that my teacups are from the 70s or 80s. I am tickled by the idea of sipping my morning tea from the delicate porcelain cups.
When I can get my act together to find a vintage or antique plate rack, maybe I’ll display them with the four hand-painted Limoges plates that I scored in the same booth ($6 each). These floral plates are a delight, each featuring a different flower. When I turned one over and saw that it was signed by “Maude”, that sealed the deal. Knowing the name of the artist who painted my plates makes them all the more special for me.
In another booth, I found a charming soap dish painted with violets, also made in Limoges ($7). I’m guessing that this piece was painted in the 50s or 60s. It somehow feels older than my cups, saucers, and plates, due to its patina. I’ll place it in my guest bathroom with a pretty little soap. I finished my great buying day by scooping up a set of eight embroidered napkins. They must be several decades old. I’ll bring them to the dry cleaner for a good cleaning and starching. They’ll be so beautiful during tea time!
Did I need any more cups, saucers, plates, and linens? Absolutely not. Though had I not been wandering around the flea market with my friend Shelley on that Saturday afternoon, I probably would have been spending money in other ways. All of the items I purchased would be more expensive new, and it’s unrealistic for me to expect to find the beautiful craftsmanship and handwork that are not valued as they once were. Bringing vintage and antique items into my home gives new life to pieces that people have left behind. Placed next to the newer items in my home, they create a unique style for a small price.
Inspirations
Decorating on a small budget, NYT
These days, I’m living my best book life. I have short, precarious stacks of books all over the house: travel guides, novels, poetry, cookbooks. I love my books, but I am hard on them. I make copious notations, I stash them in my bag when I’m on the go, and if I sense someone needs my book more than I do, I give it away.
Our winter wasn’t as cold and snowy as some, but it was grey and damp. I spent those months dabbling, skipping from book to book, and rereading a few favorites. If I begin reading a book and I’m not hooked after a few chapters, I set it aside. I spent ten years as a student of literature, and I always read what I was instructed to read. Now I’m more reckless. Sometimes I purchase a book simply because it has a pretty cover. I read more in English. Unfinished books linger. It’s glorious to flit between subjects and genres and to touch so many different books in one sitting.
For this post, I gathered a selection of some recent and favorite reads that might lead you to your next book. Dainin Katagiri’s The Light That Shines Through Infinity has been a steady, insightful spiritual companion that I have already gifted to a friend and that I will reread multiple times. Michelin’s guide to Brittany has had me dreaming about France’s rugged coasts, and Alexandre Maral’s Versailles: côté ville, côté jardin has furthered my research on the Royal City. My cookbook collection is unmanageable, but Emeril Lagasse’s review of Bottom of the Pot made Naz Deravian’s new book on Persian cuisine irresistible.
A few months ago, I embarked on a poetry project with a friend. Each month, we read one poem by Irish poet Eavan Boland. We stay with that poem for a whole month, and then we each compose our own poem that is inspired by and seems to grow from the month’s poem. Writing and sharing poetry terrifies me, but our Eavan Boland project has helped me to go deeper with poetry and to feel brave enough to write my own poems.
If English is my first and most comfortable language, French is my chosen and beloved language. My French winter reads were delightful. I’ve been enjoying random selections of François Cheng’s De l’âme (About the Soul). He unfailingly brings me beauty as he bridges philosophies of the East and the West. In Le camélia de ma mère (My Mother’s Camellia), Alain Baraton, the head gardener at the Château de Versailles, sings the beauty of his mother’s favorite flower. And after teaching L’Elégance du hérisson (The Elegance of the Hedgehog), last spring, I am treating myself to a third or fourth reading of Muriel Barbery’s novel on the beauty of friendship.
Inspirations
Discovering Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca
Thoughts on beauty and grief
More reads on Creative Sanctuary
Photo courtesy of Shelley Richardson
Those who love use their imagination to discover solutions where others see only problems. Those who love help others according to their needs and with creativity, not according to preconceived ideas or common conceptions.
–Pope Francis
Valentine’s Day can be fraught. Although I see the holiday as a sweet reminder to celebrate all kinds of love, I understand the loneliness that can accompany this overwhelming greeting card day. It is difficult to be alone on Valentine’s Day when you feel like everyone you know is sharing a cozy dinner with their sweetheart. I have been in that sad emotional space, but several years ago, I released those feelings of inadequate solitude because they were holding me back.
Love is so much more than chocolate, flowers, and candle-lit meals! We have a responsibility to inhabit love—to be love—each day. Love is a powerfully creative act: “Those who love help others according to their needs and with creativity.” It is a dynamic, ever-evolving energy that moves us through our days. Love involves interplay, cooperation, and patience. It is neither formulaic nor superficial. It is practical, messy, and beautiful. As I have written before, love is our duty and our pleasure.
Love is too abundant, too expansive to be contained in one grey February day. Maybe it is a bit silly to dedicate one day of the year to a concept that is so vast yet so vague, but I am content to embrace Valentine’s Day as a moment to celebrate love and to reevaluate my thoughts on love. This year, I recommit to allowing the energy of love, whatever unexpected or unconventional form it may take.
In the realm of space, your life is nothing but the lively energy of life, interconnecting with everything.
–Dainin Katagiri
Every so often, I spread the pieces of my childhood tea set on my bed. It’s in pitiful shape—broken, glued, re-broken, re-glued. I love that I played so hard with these tiny, clumsy cups and plates. I almost remember my gracious, chubby fingers pouring imaginary tea as I brushed wisps of long, brown hair out of my eyes. I can almost see myself breaking piece after piece in my basement playroom.
No one in my family drank tea, so I must have created my own imaginary tea stories. I don’t recall my solo tea parties, yet when I lay my hands on the shards, I access the lively energy of life that children incarnate. This cherished energy still resides deep inside me. Light, open, and expansive, this part of me responds to people who are patient and curious. Sometimes I forget the connections that defy time and geography, but the energy of this homely wabi-sabi children’s tea set transcends place, space, and culture. Through it, I recall that it was a gift from Grandma Rose Mary. She couldn’t have known that tea would become my language and my passion. In this sense, her gift of imaginary tea was prophetic. Grandma’s gift allowed me to create my first tea rituals and to explore what it might mean to share tea with others. My tea rituals have evolved, but I embrace the awkwardness of human connection as it plays out over shared tea moments.
In the realm of space, my life is nothing but the lively energy of life, interconnecting with everything.
