Roman fresco with banquet scene from the Casa dei Casti Amanti (IX 12, 6-8) in Pompeii

In western society we are inheritors of a legacy from Ancient Greece and Rome that despite the passing of over 2500 years is still potent. Through their ideas the desire to capture the essence of fine living was born. Today that art of living has evolved since the development of the domus in European antiquity to a residence in America and Australia, through a diverse and special mix of peoples and their cultures.

Ancient Greek gastronomy developed out of a practice of sacrificing domestic animals to a variety of gods. Afterwards, as one would expect in a democracy, the carcasses were equally proportioned and sold at market. During the fifth century before the Christ event herbs, spices and honey were added to heighten taste.

As documented in the literature of this period, cookery was considered a very important skill, because the Greeks understood it to be one of the basic arts that sustained human life. Romans of the first century embraced Greek ideas and art forms with great passion. Roman orator Cicero [106 BC -43 BC] believed that ‘to style the presence of guests at a dinner table’ lay at the heart of Roman civilised life ‘because it implied a community of enjoyment, a convivium, or ‘living together’.

Reconstruction of the Octagonal Room - Emperor Nero's Domus Aurea

Following the decline of the Republic and ascent of the Empirical system at Rome a shared meal became a vehicle for display, ostentation, rank, hierarchy and for flattering and influencing people, in a setting they could exercise the art of conversation. Roman Emperor Nero (37-68) enjoyed fine living with great gusto. When he entered his just completed residence, the Domus Aurea (or Golden House, built in 64 AD, he is said to have proclaimed, as he gazed upon its many splendours, words to the effect, ‘now at last I can live as a human being’.

Author of a first century best seller Satyricon, Gaius Petronius (27-66 A.D.), was Nero’s advisor in all matters of luxury and extravagance (his unofficial title was arbiter elegantia). He described guests arriving at a banquet as being requested to remove their shoes at the door, have their hands washed in iced water, no mean feat prior to refrigeration, while their toenails were trimmed to the sounds of a chorus singing. Perhaps today we may consider the last just a little excessive.

We do know that Nero’s guests reclined, along with their host, on couches enjoying conversation and cuisine prepared by chefs, who achieved some fame. His vast banqueting hall revolved in harmony with the rhythms of day and night, the ceiling opening to reveal the heavens as perfume and gifts showered onto guests.

The advent of Christianity created a challenge for those at the top because by now there was a well-established tradition of fine living throughout the Roman world.

The Apostle Paul struggled to attend gatherings where rich men and their friends were served different food and drink to those of a ‘lower status’. It was a dilemma he felt he could not resolve so in the end he decided the wealthy had better eat privately.

Paul advised the Corinthians [1 Corinthians 8: 9, 10] when asked should they eat meat sacrificed to idols by suggesting they should be careful about exercising freedom of choice in case it became a ‘stumbling block to the weak’. And, that if what he ate caused his brothers to fall into sin then for his part, he would never eat meat again. Powerful words with a meditative deep inner meaning that reflect Paul’s strength of mind and purpose.

There is a huge gap of reliable documentation from the fall of the Roman Empire in the fourth century, when the demise of eating in a reclining position also came about, until about the fourteenth century in Europe. Communal living by Christian monks and nuns meant communal eating, often to strict rules of silence, with an aim of feeding the soul.

Prolonged periods of peace also meant the aristocracy gentry and merchants could establish great houses in the countryside and along with it invented the concept of ‘eating outdoors’ or, having picnics, which became something new and exciting as described by fourteenth century French nobleman Gaston Phoebus Gaston III of Foix and Gaston X of Béarn (1343-1391).

He summarized his life’s achievements: “I have delighted all my days in three things. The one is arms, the next is love, and the other is hunting.” He added, “There have been far better masters of the two former than I am.” Such humility, is definitely to be applauded.

For Kings and noblemen of the fourteenth century hunting was so much more than just a sport. It was a game of chance in which the thrill of the chase was far more important than the desire to put food on the table.

An artful aristocratic diversion, the hunt ended with man proving he held power and sway over the animal kingdom. A complex event involving strategizing for success with highly valued, well trained dogs and fighting fit falcons hunts were often held on religious days.

They started with a feast for breakfast, as well as an analysis of the droppings of the potential prey to ensure it was both fit and worthy to be hunted at all. Then the hunt was on. The glorious day ended with everyone joining together in a celebratory meal and fittingly Phoebus himself died, as he should, during a bear hunt.

Fifteenth century Florentine author and philosopher Marsilio Ficino 1433 – 1499 revealed his thoughts about a meal that it ‘embraces all the parts of man, for it restores the limbs, renews the humours, revives the mind, refreshes the senses and sustains and sharpens reason’.

Throughout the fifteenth century in Italy dining at table was strongly symbolic of a good society one in which strong social relationships were forged, ideas exchanged and mutual respect established.

In England by the sixteenth century the head of a powerful household sat at the head of his table facing a fanciful portal crowned with trumpeters who heralded the exact moment the food, led by the marshal of the hall carrying a white staff appeared.

At the grandest banquets, a household officer on horseback emerged from underneath a screen that protected guests from draughts from the doorway and rode into the hall to announce that dinner was served. What fun.

At Hatfield House, home of the famous Cecil family, the ornately carved screen was crowned with the Cecil crest and family motto Sero Sed Serio “late, but in earnest’, surely one of the best mottos of all time.

Its painted decoration and a great panoply of decorative devices had been plundered from Turkish rugs and old Medieval manuscripts imposing a visual richness.

If a house during the Tudor period in England, included a Long Gallery hung with portraits of the family, famous patrons or friends it was the mark of a settled and civilized house; an Elizabethan magnate could contemplate their character or otherwise be inspired by their virtues. Owning such a house became important to practicing the art of fine living.

By the beginning of the seventeenth century the French court changed its philosophy from an ideal based on chivalry to one of refined manners.

The most influential teacher of architects in France during this period was Germain Boffrand. He revealed ‘the character of the master of a house…can be judged by the manner in which it is arranged, decorated and furnished’.

By now the art of fine living embraced a well-planned sophisticated garden as well. At Vaux le Vicomte Louis La Vau 1612-70 [architecture] Charles Le Brun 1619-90 [interiors] and Andre Le Notre 1613-1700 [gardens] spent five years building a chateau designed by the three for the glory of one, their patron and illustrious client the Minister for Finances, Nicolas Foucquet. It is at his Chateau, Vaux le Vicomte, that the French classical style was born.

Le Vau, Le Brun and Le Notre created this extraordinary ‘palace of the sun’ as described by the ancient Latin poet, Ovid for his patron, Apollo, The Sun King.

Here at last was the perfect place for a man of substance and his family to dwell; large, imposing, but not huge; with painted wood panelling, colourful carpets, painted illusionary ceilings, carved and gilded furniture, fabulous ceramics, superb textiles all made for the most splendid of man-made environments.  I know that when I visited to view its splendours I could have easily moved straight in. It was not over ambitious, but comfortable, cleverly disposed and in keeping with its times.

At Vaux le Vicomte Foucquet practiced the art of fine living well, eating his meat from a service that included a new fancy fangled invention called the fork, without fearing the accusation of depravity still associated with that practice only a few years earlier.

The publisher Charles de Sercy described Vaux’s gardens in 1652 as the place where ‘Foucquet made art and nature engage in a pleasant contest’. The genius of Le Notre lay not only in his invention of a new style, but in his absolute mastery of a repertoire widely used, at least in its many parts.

It was bringing them together in a controlled harmonious form that was not only pleasing but also a perfect place in which to practice the art of seduction.

Vaux was built for the enjoyment of the countryside while not giving up the pleasures of the city…something England did not emulate at this time as they concentrated on building country houses for sport and display, rather than as a place to practice the art of conversation.

The Baroque style from Vaux le Vicomte became a potent force that influenced the whole of the western world when guided by Louis XIV, he began expanding his father’s hunting lodge nearby the village of Versailles using the combined talents of Le Vau, Le Brun and Le Notre.

The Kings of France lived in the chateau of Versailles, which became a centre for political life from 1682 until 1789. It is today an amazing place to visit with its some 2,300 rooms and over 60 staircases. In its day it cost the equivalent price of what we would pay now for a modern city airport. It was an object of universal admiration in its time, enhancing French prestige on the world stage.

France’s appearance and way of life changed forever during the reign of Louis XIV the Sun King. Many great towns throughout France underwent metamorphosis and the landscape altered forever as Louis XIV devoted himself energetically to all his building projects. Today little remains of his other splendid palaces at Saint-Germain and Marly?

Well cursed as an extravagance when it was under construction, and accused of having ruined the nation at the time of the revolution, the chateau at Versailles stands today as a monument to French achievement and the many milestones reached in its historical and cultural journey.

Over the years since it was finished the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles has reflected many great moments in the history of the world. At the time Colbert, Louis’ 1^st Minister and master of ceremonies used it to launch the Royal Mirror Company. Its success gave considerable momentum to the glazing industry in France and increasingly the public became aware of the decor possibilities of a mirror. They enhanced the art of living well.

Despite all of the work Louis was to complete at Versailles it was always called le Chateau, (which means Gentleman’s seat) never le Palais, remaining the home of a young man, grand without being pompous, full of light, air and cheerfulness just like a large country house.

According to the Oxford Dictionary the term enlightenment means to be free of prejudice, ignorance or superstition. Grand Tourists of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries in Europe were busy discovering the ruins at Rome and an expansion of knowledge revealed that ancient artists and writers had been accustomed to free expression, with religion and honour paramount to society’s daily existence.

This revelation affected the social and moral values of many European societies who were travelling in ever increasing circles in ‘search of the truth’. They began striving for aesthetic perfection wanting to emulate a new ideal; classical perfection.

As a result small temples in a landscape became focal points for those wanting a place of ease and repose.

By the turn of the nineteenth interiors as described by Jane Austen in her novels, presented an image of a sublime world. China, glassware and silverware displayed the family coat of arms proving to those who sat at table with you that your lineage was not only important, but also could be traced to ancient (the inference was more important) times.

Simple white starched linens with drawn thread work were surmounted by elegant vases made of glass, filled with fresh flowers picked from the garden loosely, but consciously arranged and placed on great tables. These were made from the new rage timber, mahogany with their elegantly fluted legs inspired by the columns from a Greek classical temple.

Women’s dresses emulated Greek statuary although some, endeavouring to appear like the goddesses on Greek temples by wetting their dresses, succumbed to pneumonia… because by now death was preferable to not being seen as part of a fashionable scene involved in the art of fine living.

William Morris (1834-1896) self-professed leader of the modern movement said ‘If I were asked to say what is at once the most important product of Art, and the thing most to be longed for, I should answer, a beautiful House’.

Building a house in the country made to appear as old and as venerable as the countryside itself, was what everyone was striving for. If you couldn’t build one you clamoured to be acquainted with those who owned a wonderful old pile. The aim was to affect an invitation to join a country house weekend where the art of pleasure was a very serious business and the art of fine living practiced with confidence and style.

‘Life without industry is guilt, and industry without art is brutality’ said English author and art critic John Ruskin 1819 – 1900. He resented social injustice and the squalor that was a direct result of the ‘greed is good’ mentality that accompanied the unbridled capitalism of the Industrial Revolution. His influence on the next generation of artists and craftsmen who led the way toward establishing Le Style Moderne was to be profound.

The agricultural depression of the late nineteenth century removed land as the chief source of wealth in England and by 1901 the money to pay for a country house had to be made in urban centres of trade or, somewhere else in the Empire, like Australia, where the English style and way of life had been transported. World War 1 marked a great divide in the age of the moderns bringing artists face to face with an alternative; either a clean sweep or hope of a reformed society, or alternatively the retention of a privileged art in the service of an elite and moneyed class.

After WWII a focus on art and design coming together again was rejuvenated. At Sydney, the unofficial capital of Australia, a quiet revolution in the art of living well has meant that its interior designers have finally come into their own. Stunning textiles instead of paintings are appearing on the very best walls. Smart eye-catching antique carpets are teaming brilliantly with wide plank nailed timber floors.

Despite the GFC, storm and tempest, floods and fire most owners remain optimistic. Good old Petronius, with his eye for detail and best in life, would have loved the whole concept of a one stop shop and having access to a fabulous design resource like Residence Australia.

During the last decade those who have set the scene for an art of fine living have reinterpreted late nineteenth century European Modernism with great enthusiasm, making it appear all brand new.

Great interiors today are innovative, convenient, comfortable, aesthetically pleasing, technology savvy and above all energy efficient. Sustainability, recycling and quiet elegance have become hallmarks of an interior that will both inspire and nurture its occupants, so that they can enjoy an art of living well.

Carolyn McDowall, ©The Culture Concept Circle 2011, 2012

*Quote by Aristotle (384 – 322 BC)

Related posts:

1. Antique & Art Dealers Association Show at Sydney in Spring
2. EVOLUTION OF ART, DESIGN & STYLE
   Course Outline
3. The Culture Concept Circle – You Tube Channel

Dimity Hodge, Head of Women in Leadership at Westpac said recently “Jo is not only the fashion elixir – she is an elixir of life. She is like a breath of fresh air guiding us all in fashion and style. Her passion is contagious – she wants us all to feel and look the best we can. She is stylish and creative and she just knows what works – for everyone and every body. She’s the best!” Dimity says

Jo Bayley is a Sydney girl, born and bred and we first met when she was in her early teens. With a keen eye for fashion from a young age, Jo could be found making clothes for her dolls in every spare moment. She began hairdressing at that time, developing her career in this field now spanning 25 years.

Travelling through Europe extensively has ignited the passion for fashion, style and exotic locations, and she particularly enjoyed working with menswear at London in the late 90′s. Jo also devotes much time and energy to volunteering for Look Good Feel Better, which is a social profit institution that runs workshops in hospitals nationwide. Look Good Feel Better helps women going through cancer treatment to learn about skin care, makeup, and how to best use hats, scarves and wigs.

Jo believes fashion can be the elixir we all need to take the boredom out of everyday life. And anyone can be fabulous armed with the right tools (shoes, hot dress and iconic handbag!)

Jo will be providing tantalizing tales of style, travel and fashion, here in Australia, and the rest of the globe. She says ‘Life would be so boring without a bit of escapism. Lusting over the perfect shoe, an idyllic island holiday or, that fabulous little black dress can make the day seem so much brighter’. It’s good to have her on board. I am sure that like me, you will look forward to her many musings.

Carolyn McDowall, The Culture Concept Circle 2012

Related posts:

1. The Culture Concept Circle – You Tube Channel
2. The Culture Concept Circle
3. Culture Concept Circle Competiton – Win The Yellow Book: A Selection
   Join us and the world will never look quite the same again

Spending a rainy day reading in bed is certainly my idea of luxury. I have always imagined that one day I may very well end up like the ‘poor poet’ in one of my favourite, charming ‘Beidermeier paintings’ by Carl Spietzwig. In my room, snuggled up with just my bed and books around me. Although hopefully, I won’t need an umbrella like he has, to stave off the leaks when it rains.

My God of Double Happiness his 'Mona Lisa' smile quite grabbed my attention years ago when he was part of a collection belonging to a friend. It's the crinkles around his eyes that drew me in.

In a way surrounding myself with books has been part of my looking to value myself and to conserve my health and wellbeing for a very long time. They have also aided my life’s journey and over the years have practically helped me to plan many adventures with my family, both at home and overseas. For thirteen years they were also freely available to students of The Academy (Academy of Design and Decorative Arts) who spent many a happy hour browsing and researching from them in the Art Deco Academy space in Macquarie Street at Sydney (1992 – 1999) and in The Turret teaching space in the precinct of St John’s Cathedral at Brisbane (2000 – 2005).

When, a few years ago, I was put into a position of having to sell off this fine art, design history and decorative arts library, which had been put together lovingly over forty years, it was like tearing out both my heart and soul. One of the few people who understood why I was so distressed was my eldest son, also a bit of a Bibliophile, albeit on a smaller scale these days. He is collecting books on a Kindle instead of in a bookcase. Certainly much easier to take with you when you move. After making all the arrangements to send them off at the last minute I couldn’t bear to see them all go, because they were so important to my security. Irrational I know, but there it is, I am only human. And I freely admit they were, and are my ‘Linus’ blanket. My books, and my wonderful ceramic God of double happiness are my home, and where they both are you will find me also.

So, the night before they were leaving, and because I wanted to survive well I grabbed back a small cross referenced collection, which included some renowned for their scholarship,  some that placed form above content, some that were old, some rare, and some first editions, as well as one or two from private presses and the like.

For a long time they were unable to be unpacked but they are now and surround me daily in my working space at Melbourne, along with my ceramic God of Double Happiness and a large tapestry that I love. The ‘God’ is really special as he once belonged to a friend of mine whose erudition I admired. He used to visit me often to share his prodigious knowledge. When he passed on into that big library in the sky I secured him at auction.

Being a bibliophile is not only about heartbreak, it is also about happiness too. The ‘smell’ of books en masse has for me at least, has always been very alluring. Especially since many childhood hours spent in the Randwick Municipal Library and later the State Library in Macquarie Street at Sydney.

I have always loved those books ‘bound in Morocco’, a tradition associated with binding books with the skin of goats formerly grazing the grass at exotic Morocco. And what about those with pure gold protecting the edges of their beautiful hand made paper from dust.

For me, and I suspect for many other members of the ‘baby boomer’ generation, part of the process of having an association with books was browsing through the bookstores. Such special places. I have particularly enjoyed hunting about in shops that specialized in antique and out of print books.

Frequent visits to Melbourne were a joy and found me headed straight for Kay Craddock’s basement bookstore on chic Collins Street, which was right next door to the fabulous flagship emporium, Georges, now only a memory too.

Happily I can report from Melbourne, for those that may not know, Kay is now back in her book basement following renovations to the building.

Browsing in the rare division and buying at Berkelouw’s amazing book barn in the Southern Highlands of NSW was an annual joy all through the ’80′s and early 90′s. Often when purchasing old and rare books I would find a personal photo, a cutting from a newspaper, or a letter from a previous owner that had been filed away carefully and then passed along to me. Special.

I remember being in Berkelouw’s store at Paddington in Sydney in the early 90′s and discovering a rare set of all the novels by the controversial (woman dressed as a man) author George Sand (1804 – 1876) brilliantly bound in colourful Morocco. At the time I so wished they could be mine, but they were outside my budget so I had to decline. I was always ‘tough’ with myself about the budget. They were of special interest though and I enjoyed the opportunity to view and handle them wearing white gloves. Not long before this had happened I had seen the movie Impromptu (1991), which starred Australian actor Judy Davis as the writer who dressed like a man, George Sand with Hugh Grant as Chopin and Julian Sands as Franz Liszt. Just brilliant.

Incredibly a few nights later I went out to Sydney airport to pick up my husband from off the last flight from Melbourne. In those days it was easy to go through and wait at the door for the passengers to come off the plane. As I was standing there alone, at about 10 pm amazingly, up came Judy Davis.

Judy Davis as George Sand, Impromptu

Ms Davis was there to also pick up her husband Colin Friels from the same plane. So I plucked up the courage to talk to her and we passed pleasanteries. I told her all about my find and the delightful set of Sand novels in the Paddington store and said that if anyone should own them, she should, having played Sand so brilliantly. When I went back a few weeks later they were gone and I have always wondered if they ended up in her bookcase. It’s a mystery.

Then there is a delightful poem I discovered tucked up in a book about glass. Called Chinoiserie, it was written by someone who remains anonymous.  Click the red link if you would like to read it.

There were constant delights when plotting with a book dealer and friend James Larsen, who was an enthusiastic and important conduit in my search for additions to my ever expanding collection. He would ring out of the blue from unexpected places to report his findings. I remember it took him years in the eighties to find a copy of Nancy Mitford’s large ‘coffee table’ size book of the biography of Madame de Pompadour for me.

Then he endeared himself forever when he also found the biography of Louis XIV The Sun King in the same large edition. James Larsen specialized in finding rare and out of print editions, crime, science fiction, history, biography, and children’s books and still does, in his delightful bookstore at Exeter in NSW. These days he’s also handily ‘online’.

The longest time we spent was about ten years to find a pristine copy of the limited edition of the very rare ‘Castiglione at the Court of the Chinese Emperors’. In all that time I never gave up hope one would turn up as another Bibliophile joined that larger library in the sky. Then out of the blue he rang from deep in one of the states in the U.S.A. to say he had found it and to confirm its purchase.

Remembering that someone else had preserved, and passed a book along to me was what eventually got me through my personal crisis over losing most of my treasured library. I had to keep reminding myself it was all about being a conservator and safeguarding someone else’s imagination, which as 20th century scientist extraordinaire Albert Einstein reminded us, is more important than knowledge.

An early association with books, or learning in any form, is the path to getting in the habit of embracing lifelong learning, which is now an essential aspect of twenty first century life. Encouraging children to read and become used to handling books should happen for any child from as soon after birth is possible. Reading aloud to them is vital in ensuring their path forward will be as good as it can be.

As soon as each of my three sons arrived home from the hospital a colourful heavy card or padded plastic book was the first object that went into their cot alongside a colourful mobile and rattle. By the time they all sat up it was the first thing they reached for.

Reading aloud, and singing a song each night before they went to sleep, became an essential aspect of their daily routine and early education from a few months onward. Reading aloud continued until they were all able to do it for themselves, and even then the youngest would still occasionally ask would I read to him to help him go to sleep.

Having a love of reading certainly helped each of them with their study and attaining good averages at school and university. Now all grown up one of them is actually in the book business, one has been in the publishing business, although he has now moved into digital media and the third is in the telecommunications business. I am sure the reading aloud helped shape their future.

Today, I am very pleased to observe they are all still voracious readers and devourers of knowledge. Recently it was revealed that reading aloud and my singing them to sleep at night is among the happiest memories of their childhood, as were trips to the The Children’s Bookshop (1971) at Beecroft in the northern districts of Sydney where we lived for eleven years.

The world is now a changing, with ebooks and ibooks being the way of the future. After this decade to enjoy the tactile quality of books will mean visiting ‘antique’ or ‘vintage’ style bookshops.

Being a bibliophile has been part of my life journey and like most people, it started in my childhood, however it was not as well planned by my own parents, even though my father was in the ‘education’ business. A Headmaster.

It was my mother who first encouraged my interest in reading because her childhood had been virtually bereft of books, except those kept at the tiny one man, one room school she attended as one of the daughters of the Head Shearer on the Belltrees Station at Scone in rural NSW.

Her education ceased at sixth grade Primary School because out of her big family she was the one ‘chosen’ to stay at home and complete domestic tasks and look after her mother. Although she got out of that one by marrying and having seven children of her own. So it was left to dear Aunty Ivy, whose fiancée was killed in World War II, to fulfill that role. She was a great reader too and encouraged me constantly.

As I was growing up my mother was always warning me of the very real dangers associated with ‘rising above one’s station in life’. This was totally at odds with her secretly encouraging me to read and expand my knowledge behind closed doors. My darling grandmother was the most encouraging.

She wanted me to not rise or walk, but to leap forward and embrace life and knowledge. She knew it was the only way to keep ‘moving forward’ as she had done when her husband died dreadfully of cancer at a young age and she gathered up her 9 children (3 fostered) and moved to Sydney so they would all survive.

Following my father’s death, when my mother was 66, she was found every day devouring every word in the Herald newspaper and Women’s Weekly monthly magazine, which were the only luxuries she could allow herself on her Australian ‘widow’s’ pension. I was in a position at the time to indulge her new found love of reading with novels I knew she would enjoy for gifts. She became an armchair traveler until finally in 1999, aged 93 she journeyed on alone.

Heartbreak and happiness is definitely part of the story of a bibliophile. Why I became one? Well that is a another story and for another day.

Carolyn McDowall, The Culture Concept Circle 2010 – 2012

Related posts:

1. CIVILISED: At the Beginnings of Art
2. The Culture Concept Circle – You Tube Channel
3. Profound Happiness, Beauty and Bonsai – Garden Art in Japan

One of the enchanting figures on the Chinoiserie Style Pavilion in Sansouci Park at Potsdam. Johnn Gottfried Büring was the architect and it was built between 1755 and 1764 by Frederick the Great, King of Prussia (1712-1786)

What is Art Deco
Art Deco (1920 – 1940) is a design style that reached the apex of its popularity between two global conflicts, World War I and II. It borrowed from virtually all the design styles of the past in order to fashion the future. It was the perfect expression of Paris during the 20’s to the 30’s and embraced every area of design and the decorative arts including architecture, interiors, furniture, jewellery, painting and graphics, bookbinding, costume, glass and ceramics. It was all about glamour. It was also about completing a deeply felt need for a style that would never be threatened by change. Its protagonists wanted to ward off the threat of a civilization dominated by either industry or technology, or both. The idea was to integrate contemporary living with art and turn life into art and for a while they succeeded.

Chinoiserie, More than Fantasy and Fashion
During the eighteenth century in Europe and England all things Chinese had assumed incredible proportions as fashionable society sought to transmit their ideas about the magical land of Cathay through a multiplicity of imagery. It manifested itself in intimate interiors where mirrored rooms reflected scenes of frivolity well. It draped itself delightfully with sumptuous silk textiles that recorded scenes of fashion and folly. The admiration of all things Chinese also led to the ultimate crossing over of cultural influences. On the scale of things a very few people in England and Europe had ever seen someone who was Chinese so their vivid imagination took over and, when combined with a great layering of charm, Chinoiserie was a style that was very fetching.

Jane Austen, more than the cultivation of the mind?
While her only known image may seem to reveal otherwise, there was nothing really plain about Jane Austen 1775 – 1817. Her novels, which have become classics in their own right, allow us today to share the memory of the robust society in which she lived and its privileges of rank. It was a colourful, turbulent and seemingly romantic world in the process of rapid evolution. The English provincial life, as led by Jane Austen and some of her heroines, was one of quality and modesty. A cultivated ambiance of politeness, with a keen though delicate sensibility was well balanced by common sense.

If you would like to watch more videos just bookmark our link http://www.youtube.com/user/carolynmcdowall

Carolyn McDowall, Writer in Residence, The Culture Concept Circle 2012

Related posts:

1. CIVILISED: At the Beginnings of Art
2. Editorial – Muse News October 2010
3. The Culture Concept Circle

The Food Hall was originally sited on the Lower Ground Floor of the Market Street, Sydney store and presented a marvelous array of fresh and gourmet foods and all sorts of specialist nooks and crannies that took hours to explore.  Rosemary produced the FREE weekly Menus on the Run, printed on cards that were available all over the hall during its first decade in business.

Rosemary Penman was an amazing cook. She infused my three sons with their love of food. She helped teach them to cook, while preparing special event menus for me over a twenty year period. When I was working at Paddington Sydney in the early 90′s in a specialist design store, she also demonstrated the art of dining to the clients, who afterward enjoyed eating the meals that she prepared.

The first menu is about producing a Traditional English Turkey and Ham and a ‘cheater’s’ gravy. The second is based on the Australian favourite, Seafood.  Enjoy.

Menu 1 – Christmas Tradition

Turkey with choice of Stuffing
Oyster, Fruit and Nut and Chestnut Stuffing
Cheater’s Gravy
Glazing the Ham with Orange, Marmalade or Honey

Iced Green Pea Soup
Poached Tasmanian Salmon with Hollandaise Sauce, New Potatoes and Cucumber Sauce
Caramel Parfait with Glazed Fruits (or Toffee laced fresh figs)

Download the Menu’s in PDF Format

Related posts:

1. Alchemy – Magically Transmuting Baroque Music into Xmas Joy
2. Margaret & David, At the Movies – A Silver Celebration
3. Artist David Henderson – Deepening the Mystery of Light

View of Arles with Irises in foreground by Vincent Van Gogh

You could not ever accuse the French of being afraid of colour. In Provence you discover that it is a perfect expression of their love of nature, because it is from nature the colours of Provence evolve.

The painter Vincent Van Gogh took a room at the Hôtel-Restaurant Carrel in February 1888.  He made several painting excursions around the village of Arles producing images of the harvest, the wheat fields and other rural landmarks of the area. Van Gogh moved to Arles when he was ill and his works from this period of his life are richly draped in yellow, ultramarine and mauve. His portrayals of the landscape surrounding Arles are of fields and avenues and they excel in their intensity of colour.

The Yellow House at Arles by Vincent Van Gogh

Like Monet in Normandy, the light in Arles excited Van Gogh. However it was very different from the paler silvery iridescent sky that Monet knew.

At Arles from the Yellow House he rented, Van Gogh found the countryside of Provence full of vibrant light and his appreciation for its beauty is seen in the range and scope of the work he rendered while he was there.

Provencal interiors are always warm and welcoming reflecting the needs, desires and the spirit and style of the individuals of Provence in a particular time and in a particular place.

The early houses of the countryside in Provence were built of stone. They originally housed stock on the ground floor to protect them from the harsher elements, while the family dwelt above. Dormer windows set into the roof led to a loft, where fodder and food was stored so it kept fresh and clean. This enabled the family and the stock to survive the harshest of winters.

After a time the occupants found that the fodder acted effectively as insulation helping to keep the family warm below. And we thought insultation was a modern invention.

All the houses in Provence from pre Roman times until the twentieth century were constructed from local materials. These were sometimes in character with their neighbors, but always in harmony with the land. Wooden louvred shutters were kept closed in the sunny hours and only opened in the evening to let in the fresh, cool night air. A ubiquitous pair of French doors, led into a courtyard where a grape vine covered the trellis providing both fruit and shade.

Roofs were usually made of terra cotta tiles hand moulded and produced from local clays. The colours of the earth give the rooftops of its villages a rich mosaic look, full of texture and life.

Interiors all over Provence vary but usually all have the following features -

Staircases: these were simple affairs fashioned out of stone and terracotta tiles and in the last few hundred years had the added feature of a wrought iron handrail.

Hand Hewn Beams: Wood was always expensive and in short supply, because it was needed for the beams. These were hand made massive and sturdy, providing rustic charm while supporting the floors above.

Floors: Mainly tiled, the most popular being terracotta because local clay was always in abundance. Easy to maintain the floors were left natural or glazed and they came in all shapes and sizes. Being of the earth and nature they had the advantage of remaining cool in summer and retaining the heat in winter.

Fireplaces: As in all the regions of country France these were for hundreds and hundreds of years, at the heart of the home. They were used as the cooking centre and main source of heat. They symbolized security and well being, and often contained storage niches for condiments and pots.

An enormous fireplace in a farmhouse would have beehive shaped openings into which casseroles could be set with coals from the fireplace and cook slowly all day while the farmer, his family and workers tended the fields.

Ceramics: From the eighteenth century brightly coloured ceramic tiles adorned kitchen counters, bathrooms, walls and tables. The first Faience production house in Provence was founded at the town of Moustiers in 1679 by Pierre Clerissy, a faiencier.

Moustiers is an ancient village that clings to the cliffs in Northern Provence and it is one of the greatest centres historically. Clerissy was descended from an ancient Provencal family, who had been potting from the middle ages using hand throwing or hand modeling techniques and following artistic traditions.

During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries pottery produced in Provence was mostly blue and white, inspired by oriental porcelains coming in through the port of Marseilles.

It was during the eighteenth century that polychrome glazes were introduced revolutionising production. The abundant supply of clay in the region, which when covered with a white glaze, gave the faience a characteristic vibrant glow

Copper pots and pans: As in Normandy, they were an essential part of any Provencal kitchen.

Doorways: A special feature was a beaded curtain treatment for doorways, allowing air and some light in while keeping flies out. And here in Australia we thought this was an ‘Aussie invention’ – we just made it from whatever was to hand, including plastic strips, corks and bottle tops.

Petrin, or dough bin

Furniture: This evolved from the thirteenth century into a refined and distinctive style. The timbers used first were pine, then walnut, which dominated from the fifteenth century. With a warmth to its lovely patina, walnut responded well to the chisel and awl. Even though walnut trees were plentiful during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, they were highly prized, and often given as part of a bride’s dowry.

Other fruitwoods included olivewood and pearwood, which was often darkened to replicate ebony. There are also cherry, chestnut and mulberry, with willow for the chairs. The English loved French walnut, but its supply was often disrupted by European wars, and they had to look to other markets for supply. English eighteenth century furniture made from French walnut is highly prized and very expensive.

Designs were filled with sensuous movement by way of exquisite carving evoking a play of light and shade, with expressive lines and soft angles and as always the function or purpose for which it was designed was the main factor.

A panetiere (or breadbox) above a Petrin or dough bin with its urn and fruit basket motifs, were a traditional paring.

Together with the Tamisadou they were an integral part of any country household. The Tamisadou was an unusual piece of furniture like a two door cabinet, created to refine and sift flour. Today originals are quite rare to find and unique to Provence

Chairs, were simply designed with rush seats and came in different designs suitable for different purposes. Some had high backs and low seats, some were especially designed for wet nurses or nursing mothers while others were amply proportioned intended for grandmothers.

They were also made into banquettes holding three or four people, designed for chatting, traditionally placed near the fireplace, and sometimes decorated with hand painted flowers, and cushions of the colourful Indienne cottons (Provence 3).

Tables were rustic, solid, and functional,  mostly rectangular with drawers or pull out slides, for feeding about twelve people in comfort, if not in style. Smaller utilitarian tables for writing, gaming, sewing, halls or night tables were essential this one with a central X support and stretchers reminiscent of the Louis XIV style

During the nineteenth century richer households commissioned canopy beds (lits a l’imperiale) with silk curtains suspended from a dome attached to the wall Mostly, beds in Provence were simple affairs bedrooms not ever having been a major design focus.

As in other regions of France the Amoire was a splendid piece of furniture, one of a families most cherished possessions,, whether in a humble or wealthy home.

The eighteenth century in Provence, as for the rest of Europe and Britain were glory years. The land rich, fertile and profitable, providing prosperity through active trade. More sophisticated pieces of furniture were influenced by Paris fashions, appearing, as the Provencal furniture makers responding to the sinuous curves of the rococo, and the lyrical elegance of furniture of the Louis XV style.

The Residents in Arles, Beucaire and Tarascon in the Rhone region, could afford to pay more for fine furniture, produced by the local craftsmen and two styles particularly distinguish this area known as Arles and Fourques.

Arlesian pieces have their emphasis is more elaborate and ornate carving, with curved lines and lavish floral detail on delicate, low relief, such as garlands of roses, flower buds and olive branches and called fleuri, or flowered.

Fourques was a smaller simpler town which produced furniture with deeply sculpted curves and undulating moldings with little or no decorative motifs, and with less carved detail and ornamentation.

Louis XV Bergere, comfortable for conversation with curvacious cabriole legs

Louis XVI Bergere, with its classical straight legs

Louis XV designs were simplified with perfect proportions, and today are highly prized. Comfort and convenience meant comfortable well stuffed Bergere chairs with a detailed carving on the front apron and on the knee of the cabriole legs.

Louis XVI designs reflect the change to the neo classical style with their straight fluted legs that take their form from a column.

Towards the end of the nineteenth century, design became exaggerated, losing some of its elegance, harmony and balance. Then the turn of the twentieth century saw mass production of furniture in the north marking the decline of the Provencal regional style and the demise of French provincial design in general.

Unpretentious, warm and welcoming, the interiors of Provence today reflect the heritage of Provencal life and the Provenceur’s enjoyment of the simple pleasures of life; the sharing of good food, the local wine and the art of good conversation.

The style of Provence in every domain represents a view of French country style, which has been transmitted internationally. This earthy, fertile, sunbaked region of France for many is the very essence and at the heart of French Country style charming visitors and influencing decorators worldwide. This is something we can all share wherever we are in the world. Provence is all about celebrating la joie de vivre, or the joy of life.

Carolyn McDowall, The Culture Concept Circle 2011

*Vincent Van Gogh, Provence

Related posts:

1. French Country Style – Provence is c’est magnifique!
2. French Country Style – Provence tres chic ‘indiennes’
3. EVOLUTION OF ART, DESIGN & STYLE
   Course Outline

Provence, Provence, just by saying your name many believe they can almost savour the piquant freshness of your renowned goat cheeses and taste the enticing soft bouquet of your delicious local wines. Your French country style is very much admired world wide. It has developed through the people, the produce of the land, and the practical elements necessary for everyday life.

Provence is a region in southern France that has clear and clean air when, from time to time it is swept from the north, or northwest by the Maestrale or mistral wind. It plays an important role in creating this cleansing climate. It is c’est magnifique when the mistral dies down and cloudless skies and luminous sunshine appear. Then we can enjoy viewing the suns rays reflecting off waving fields of golden wheat, or flowering crops of precious lavender while its soothing perfume wafts over us on a gentler breeze.

From a lofty vantage point high in its mountains you can view the beauty of a peaceful valley below where the river Aigue Brun (aigue being the Provencal word for water) winds its way through verdant valleys. Then you can journey along a gently winding road to the highest heights where you can stop at a small restaurant hidden away in a scenic spot. There you can join people from all walks of life savouring the delights of the local cuisine in an atmosphere of congeniality. It is a happy, relaxed atmosphere in a place where time seemingly stands still.

Every marauding army in history has more than likely passed through the same spot. While you are there you will become aware that you are really only but a small dot on the amazing history of this ancient place. The Franks, the Goths, the Visigoths, the Burgundians, the Saracens, the Normans and the Romans all came, saw and conquered.

Around 125 years after the birth of Jesus Christ the Romans gave this extraordinary territory its name, which came from the Latin word Provincia. Its rugged terrain provided safe passage between the city of Rome and its Iberian territories. Since the first century, it has been very Civilised – at the beginnings of art.

The Celts were a diverse group of tribal peoples from the Iron Age who inhabited much of Europe by four centuries before the Christ event. Together with the Liguriens, the original inhabitants of the Cote d’Azur, they melded together establishing more than thirty towns.

They traded vigorously both with the peoples who came from the sea, the Etruscans in the north of Italy as well as the Greeks at a trading post, which we now know as Marseilles.

The Romans wanted to be part of this thriving trade. Not liking unsavory religious practices, which included human sacrifice, through a series of wars they conquered the Celtic-Ligurien races to take Provence for themselves.

By the 1st century the Romans controlled most of Provence and with it, the people, the commerce and trade.

Aix en Provence had natural springs and the Romans established a system of aqueducts that carried water from natural springs into the town and their bath houses, bathing being such an important aspect of their daily health ritual.

Aix takes its name from Aquae Sextiae – the waters of Sextius, who was the subduer of the Celts. Many fountains encrusted with limestone and moss decorated with dolphins still remain as a symbol of empire departed.

When the Romans finally withdrew they left behind many rich architectural remains. The Fort de Bukes (Buoux) set in the south range of the Luberon mountains looks down over a precipitous valley like so many others in which the people of Provence fell prey to any tribe that happened to be passing.

Mist in the Morning in the Luberon

Provence is roughly divided into three areas, that of the mountainous areas towards Italy, which are poor, isolated and austere. Then there is the coastal and Maritime area along the Mediterranean, containing all of the important ports such as Marseilles, Nice, Cannes and Toulon. Then there is the area around the Rhone, where in its valleys tall slender cypress shade farmhouses with herb gardens that come from Roman heritage

The style of Provence represents a view of French country style, which has been transmitted internationally.

This earthy, fertile, sunbaked region of France for many is at the very essence and heart of French Country style. It continues to charm visitors and influence  designers and decorators worldwide. When climatic extremes, such as the notorious mistral wind strike they wisely retreat indoors and bolt their shutters.

This is a land where magnificent avenues of plane trees provide a link from the road to the Provencal garden. The height and length of their planting may impress the visitor with the extent of the owner’s dominions.

However the reason they are there was not that because the Renaissance nobles who planted them were not concerned with the Mediterranean climate, but in fact were more in need of wood for the gun carriages of cannons, ship masts, rifle butts, furniture and even matches. Whether public or private these great avenues today afford fabulous protection from the fierce summer sun. They create softly filtered light and provide a strong sense of a protective enclosure, producing a pleasurable effect.

Country roads throughout Provence are bordered in graceful trees, providing shelter on relentlessly hot Provencal summer days.  Many of these were planted during Napoleon’s reign as Emperor in France. On his order they were planted in great stands and set each side of a village on all the  main routes to and from Italy. This allowed his troops to lie down and rest in the shade and for the villagers to provide the food and sustenance they needed. Their mature beauty today enhances the look of the Provincial landscape.

The hill villagers in Vaison La Romaine fortified their town by using the terrain as their defense. Clustered around the summit of limestone hills it has been continuously occupied since mediaeval times, the houses in alleyways no wider than a pair of passing oxen. They were built when the need arose, and improved upon only when the pocket permitted. The builders paid less heed to architectural conventions of symmetry than to a pressing need to make the most of limited space.

During Spain’s occupation from the 12th century we could assume that the influence of leather work and metal work on furniture first started.

Provence until the end of the fifteenth century was a group of states entirely separate from France.  It had its own language, government and a sense of style, with deeply rooted ideas and philosophies first founded in strong traditions.  They kept goats and ate fish, grew herbs in abundance, as well as olives which were introduced by the Greeks. With the fabled vitis vinifera grape vine for stock they made wine and became great consumers of wild boar as well as truffles.

The oak forests of Provence would have been prime truffle territory then as now. The little slivers of this celestial fungus harbors many of the amusing stories of the region. They were often obtained by nefarious means or through a local truffle fair not listed in any tourist guide.

For three hundred years from the fifteenth to the eighteenth century Italy continued its influence of the area by negotiating binding commercial treaties linking Genoa, Florence and Venice with Provence. Oriental goods passed through its most important port Marseilles. East Indian merchant ships unloaded cargoes of exotic goods such as silks, spices, inlaid and lacquered furniture, and precious porcelain from Cathay. All of these had a very great influence on the designs of local craftsmen.

At Fontaine de Vaucluse the silver tones of olive trees contrast strikingly with the hues and rough texture of rocky outcrops that litter the mountains in the South Range of the Luberon.

As we approach the ancient village of Gordes in the Luberon Mountains we come across the old abbey of Senanque standing in an extraordinary setting. The harmony of the brown stone of the roofs, the white stone of the walls, and the violet of the flowering lavender, makes for a striking contrast with the plateau whose rocky outcrop was once littered with borie, or the dry stone huts used by shepherds and early Christian hermits.

Evidence of the traditions inherited from classical antiquity are still strong in Provence.

At the Jardin de la Fontaine in Nimes is one of the most famous and elegant shrines of the Roman world. It was resurrected by King Louis XV (1710-1774) who surrounded it with a great garden preserving its heritage for the glory of France, and the use of its people.

In this wonderful public space is a marvelous mixture of French and Italian influences, drawing the two cultures together in a dramatic feature that has a complex series of monumental steps and levels leading to the Roman baths where you can still today both soothe your spirit and refresh your soul.

Today the people of Provence continue to both nurture the land and harvest the sea treating each new arrival with the same resigned equanimity they do for the annual invasion of at least one and a half million holidaymakers.

In Provence a graceful flow of the earth’s natural elements is in evidence – human, geological, botanical and architectural. They emphasize the layers of its unique history in a place that is now one of peace, joy and contemplation.

It is a place where man and nature have seemingly come together in complete harmony.

The mistral may not howl down your chimney, but the exuberant spirit of Provence and innate style of France’s peoples can be yours if only you dare reach for it.

Carolyn McDowall, The Culture Concept Circle 2011

*Vincent Van Gogh, Provence

Related posts:

1. French Country Style – Provence and joi de vivre
2. French Country Style – Provence tres chic ‘indiennes’
3. EVOLUTION OF ART, DESIGN & STYLE
   Course Outline

By the mid 80’s the sun as it set at London was sparkling off glorious clean golden stone buildings, dating from Elizabethan to Art Deco times. As the restoration of both city and countryside gradually improved, so did the well-being of its citizens, their health and their eating establishments. As memories of World War II faded, a new optimism prevailed. Into this milieu came Aussie actress turned interior designer Anoushka Hempell, who created Blake’s Hotel at South Kensington in London in 1978. This was one of the world’s first luxury boutique hotels. Its restaurant skilfully blended both east and west in its decor as well as in the food on offer in its simply superb subterranean location. Sinking into silk cushions while reclining in a stunning lounge for drinks before dinner was the ultimate in divine decadence. The whole place was so very chic and exotic, rich with lacquer work and wonderful textiles.

Like a wonderful cave Blake’s Restaurant has since become world-renowned, and a regular haunt and habitat of the rich and famous. During the 80′s they used to serve this incredible Duck with five different salts on the side of the plate. It was written up in all the gourmet magazines around the world at the time. Just thinking about it still makes me salivate; such was its fabulous flavour. Dining among brilliantly coloured flowers in this richly coloured interior, overlaid with decorative detail was always an exquisite experience. And it’s still available.

We went on a number of magical cuisine tours of England in the 80’s and 90′s that were to die for. Highlights included tracking up through Derbyshire to dine at The Cavendish, which was a gracious establishment set into the walls that surrounded the Baroque masterpiece Chatsworth House. Then was the fabulous duck served by our hostess in a tiny country cottage filled with antiques at Giggleswick near Settle in Yorkshire. High on a very steep hill at Richmond in the Yorkshire Dales two former Qantas stewards set up Millgate House, a gorgeous Georgian pile they furnished with antiques. They also planted a walled town garden from where they picked the herbs they used in all their cooking, which was truly sensational. Sleeping over was a very good idea.

The Waterside Inn at Bray or The Compleat Angler at Marlow in Berkshire became regular haunts, as very dear friends lived nearby.

We enjoyed a luncheon celebration at the Angler, after arriving from Paris on the Orient Express. The trip was planned to be an integral part of one very dear Australian friend’s 40th birthday journey. Another part was a delicious dinner at Le Fouquet’s at Paris the night before we boarded the Orient Express. It was dignified, elegant, French dining at its most exquisite. A classic 400 year old English Country House Hotel named after Isaak Walton’s book of the same name, the Compleat Angler is located on the banks of the River Thames at Marlow nearby to Oxford.

Brunch on board the Venice Simplon Orient Express while sitting in the Lalique Dining Car racing across the French countryside was truly special. Fields in flower floated by as we imbibed on Seafood Terrine, Poached Eggs in Aspic, Smoked Salmon and Avocado with Prawns, all fabulous taste sensations. However the journey on the Pullman carriages on our way up to London from Folkestone is what we remember most. We enjoyed the lightest possible fresh scones with absolutely delicious home made preserves, topped off with thick dollop of Cornish clotted cream. They were certainly to die for and I remember thinking my Nan would have heartily approved. Then there was the taste of the icy cold quality French Champagne that accompanied them, we remember it well because it quite did us all in.

Of all the meals I enjoyed abroad there are a number that stand out the most in my memory.

Eating and staying at Raymond Blanc’s le Manoir aux Quat’ Saison, which opened in 1977 at Great Milton in Oxfordshire, was one of the best of all experiences. There was nothing stuffy about it, very relaxed, beautifully appointed and wonderfully welcoming with culinary delights that tantalized the palette and were definitely to die for.

Raymond Blanc was always such a wonderful host and his recipes were and still are, both accessible and achievable. A self-taught cook Monsieur Blanc was generous with sharing both his style and cooking tips with happy clients, and he enabled me a great deal. We were staying there when he launched his first cookbook, full of fine cuisine gems. I cherished my signed copy passing it over to my daughter in law only recently, who with my second son is hot on the trail of eating their way around the world too. Relating their latest eating experiences at Vicenza and Venice in Italy recently made me want to jump on a plane and go back for more.

La Manoir has become one of the great live in eating experiences in England. The two-acre kitchen garden produces oodles of vegetables and an extraordinary range of herbs.

Raymond Blanc was a champion of the organic movement three decades ago, long before it was politically correct believing ‘flavour alone would be a reason to buy organic food, quite apart from its freedom from additives’.

His was definitely ‘La Cuisine Moderne’. He also established a Cookery School to pass on his beautiful imaginative cuisine and sensational style. I cannot single out one meal here to rave about, except to say that they were all truly incredible.

A meal at L’Archestrate at Paris (now closed) on the rue de l’Exposition its first location was also truly superb. It was a tiny elegant room decorated in shades of chocolate brown and terracotta, with cane wallpaper. An entrée of Goldfish with fried celery tops was completely out of this world taste wise, followed up by Poulet (Chicken) with Caviar, Agneau (Lamb) with Curry Sauce and a selection from a Cheese board that took two men to carry. These were served with a special toast made by the chef, full of flavour and packed with fruit. An exotic Gateau Chocolat followed. Much talked about chef, Alain Senderens, was only young at the time with a contemplative intellect, opening up his restaurant controversially by serving fresh salt Cod.

L’Archestrate was one of the six top restaurants at Paris in 1982, which included – L’ Archestrate, Grand Vefour, Lasserre, Taillevent, Vivarois and La Tour d’Argent. They all had three hats from Michelin at the time, although each were as different from the other as were the seasons in the year. L’Archestrate was wonderful in its first incarnation, unpretentious, food lovingly cooked, waiters friendly, quite the opposite to reports about ‘attitude’ when it moved grandly onto the rue de Varennes in 1971, finally its doors in 1985.  It reminded me of great art that struggles to be born, eager, conscientious combining purity of spirit with passion until finally the artist gives into temptation and becomes corrupted by commercialism and fame rather than trusting his passion.

At La Tour d’Argent, where I was fortunate enough to visit a few times, the final meal in 2001 was the most memorable. Exquisite hors douvres, the rich texture of their specialty Duck, followed by the simplicity of flambéed fresh juicy luscious peaches served with iced luxurious 100-year-old French champagne was unforgettable enough. Meeting its famous owner Claude Terrail, another story. The makeup of people who have dined there is quite remarkable. Presidents and ambassadors, company presidents, movie stars, politicians as well as people like me, who simply saved up to go. We all came to gaze out across the Seine, share a great bottle or two from the restaurant’s famous cellar and to partake of that legendary duck.

Then there was the divine dinner at the Auberge du Bon Laboureur at Chenonceaux in France. The understated elegance of the surroundings ensured our culinary delights were enjoyed in great style. This complete spur of the minute encounter of the most wonderful kind happened after spending the afternoon at the nearby Chateau seeing the sights. With the sun not setting until nearly 10pm, my tour companion and I decided on dining out before returning across the countryside to where we were staying. We found the delightful geranium in bloom ivy covered eighteenth century inn after a short walk.

The table must have been a cancellation, because to dine here we discovered was and still is difficult, because it is always booked so far ahead. They served the days specialty, fat white asparagus with lemon butter sauce followed by an ‘essence of asparagus’, a consommé so exquisite my friend and I both thought we really had died and gone to heaven. The main course was tender lamb, which was a symphony of textures and flavours. We were both gobsmacked.

Lunch at the Auberge du Pere Bise on Lac Annecy in France near the Swiss border was entirely memorable, sitting looking out over the lake toward the mountains covered in snow. It was not only a picturesque storybook experience but also a culinary delight as well. They were, and are still famous for their dessert trolley. Not really sure now just how I retained my size 10 figure in those days. Is it any wonder most of these amazing eating places in Europe and England have rooms to stay in overnight.

In between were many restaurants in the most amazing places. High in the alps of Switzerland, as we wound our way through a forest in legendary Liechenstein, or in different regions of Provence in southern France, where we enjoyed dining in simple eateries with slow cooked meals that were both comforting and entirely delicious.

Those at Mougins, a commune in the Alpes-Maritimes department in south-eastern France, which at the time hosted many world celebrities were extraordinary. Renowned Chefs Roger Vergé and Alain Ducasse both had restaurants in the village and at one time so many had three chef hats from Michelin, it was impossible to choose the one to try.

Finally, but still abroad although more local, it would be impossible not to rave about the cuisine, the wine, the decor and the service at the multi-award winning Huka Lodge in northern New Zealand, nearby to Lake Taupo. It may seem strange the best of all dining out experiences abroad was the one enjoyed so close to home. But there it is.

This amazing lodge is sited on a spot where the Queen Mum used to come to fish for trout in days of yore. It has since become one of the world’s great holiday havens and retreats. Sited spectacularly on the Waikato River with its great cascading Huka falls, every meal here is an unforgettable joyous experience. It is like a wonderful symphony, where everything comes together in harmony.

You can dine out under the stars on the terrace alongside a roaring fire or have them set up a table down on the jetty beside the river, or in the too too divine wine cellar. You can go fishing or hot air ballooning with a guide and partake of a freshly baked croissant, fruit and coffee in the early morning mist.

Meals in house such as freshwater lobster poached with lemon-infused gnocchi and watercress really are to die for. The ambience is cosy and comforting, with just the right dash of chic. Spending New Year’s Eve there is an amazing thing to do.

Fitted out as a hunting lodge, you want to make sure you add a dash of tartan to your attire to be totally in tune. For over 25 years Huka Lodge has established a tradition of fine hospitality, which is invested in both its philosophy and culture.

Eating out at Sydney over their teen years helped my three son’s develop a love of culinary delights as well, although you can give them bangers and mash and they are completely happy. They know it is all about the quality of the produce, the cooking amd company. They were motivated, inspired and taught by one of the best cooks around at the time, the quietly spoken Rosemary Penman.

Dear Rosemary, God bless her, consulted on the opening celebration and designed the Menu’s on the Run for the first decade of David Jones Food Hall. She was a simply sensational cook and a cherished friend. Over twenty years of working together on a great number of culinary projects, she imparted her wisdom, some great recipes and taught my boys very special skills. She was a patient, kind and caring mentor and we all adored her. They remember her fondly for giving them so many tips, ensuring that what was being cooked would be a success. It did not matter if she was busy cooking a special dinner party, she would take the time to lift number three son up onto a chair beside her, complete with his striped chef hat and apron, to help.

Gretta Anna Teplitzky had a restaurant at Killara, where we used to dine out as a family for a special treat. Then she started teaching, so once again I indulged.  She was a no nonsense lady with great short cuts, that always had a great end result. At her urging I went to North Sydney Technical College (TAFE) where I completed a year of training in the art of Cordon Bleu. Working in a team at one session we had a toffee-pulling nightmare, which was certainly a whole lot of fun. Along the way we also learned a great deal as well.

A family favourite for twenty odd years was the Bayswater Brassiere, sited on the edge of King’s Cross. Two talented New Zealand boys and their well-trained informative waiters reigned supreme. This fabulous place now only a memory, became our home away from home when a new kitchen for the Paddington terrace we were renovating was destroyed by fire as it sat on a loading dock to be delivered next day. The boys at the Bayswater Brassiere became well known not only for their fabulous food and great back bar, but also for training many of the first wave of master chefs to hit the Sydney scene.

Fish and Chips never tasted better than when you enjoyed it on the pier at Rose Bay or out by the sea at Watson’s Bay on a sunny Sunday. This was where the Doyle family reigned supreme bringing fresh seafood into central focus and social prominence. So much so that humble fish and chips, which we ate out of paper when I was a kid, began turning up on all the stylish tables around the town.

In Australia during the time I was travelling abroad, our chefs were quietly taking on the rest of the world by storm establishing excellence as their basic level, believing they could go well beyond that point. There was Gai Bilson at Berowra Waters, Tony Bilson at Bilson’s on Circular Quay, Claude Corne at Claude’s at Paddington, Phillip Searle in the divine old rectory building Leo Schofield renovated at Woollahra and Paul Merrony at Merrony’s Circular Quay, all of whom I have many fond memories of, as well as of their marvellous meals. Then there was the always animated delightful Armando Perouoco at Buon Ricordo, Damien Pignolet at Claude’s and after that at the Bistro Moncur, where his Steak Café de Paris has become deservedly legendary.

Maggie Beer, the girl whose cooking is so delicious you always have to supress the urge to lick the plate

Maggie Beer, all you have to do is say her name and people perk up and smiles broaden. She’s the cook who enjoys cooking with chefs. My first encounter with food cooked by this amazing lady was at her Pheasant Farm, where my friend who lived in Adelaide and I went to dine at the restaurant when she first opened. She served great game to die for. My friend and I would make the journey up to the Farm over all the years she had her restaurant there from the late 70’s until 1993.

We celebrated my friend’s 50^th birthday there too while both our husbands were overseas. We always wanted to lick the plate, not a ladylike thing to do, but an impulse that had to be completely repressed. When we found out Maggie was closing the restaurant down we made a final journey together the week the resetaurant closed, enjoying the food still at the high standard of excellence Maggie had always achieved. It was why the Pheasant Farm was voted Restaurant of the Year in Australia so many times and also why she gained such a legion of loyal fans. Since then she has gone from strength to strength and and endeared herself to millions of people who enjoy the love and passion she pours into her wonderful range of comestibles.  She has certainly shared the love around.

Over the last decade the rise and popularity of cooking shows on television has reached critical mass and millions of people. A favourite is Nigella Lawson, the TV phenomenon, whose no nonsense approach has won many followers. Her mouthwatering recipes focus on seasonal produce and are inspiring. She has mastered the art of comfort cooking so well women want to be like her, while men just crave a curvy domestic goddess in their kitchen.

The 17th century Rear of Hintelsham Hall Suffolk

Staying at Hintlesham Hall Hotel, Robert Carrier’s former cooking school at Ipswich in the rolling Suffolk countryside of England for Christmas 1988 was a return special treat, but this time enjoyed by our whole family. They were all grown up now and we were on our way to the holiday we always dreamed of having together, a journey up the Nile. I had read Sinuhe the Egyptian as a teen, and we were all archaeology buffs.

Going to see the place where civilisation was refined into a superb culture had long been on the top of the list. The political situation made it completely impossible for years, but then there was a brief window of opportunity in January 1989 and you couldn’t hold us back. At Hintlesham Hall Christmas stockings were stuffed with wonderful goodies to eat and hung on the bedroom chimneypiece to find on Xmas morning. Their award winning wine list included the best wines from France and Australia, which was a lovely surprise.

During the late 80’s and throughout the 90’s in Sydney we enjoyed fabulous meals at Italian eateries such as La Strada, Lucio’s, Beppi’s and Machiavelli’s. Then along came Icebergs at Bondi with their take on chic cuisine. Two visits there remain long in my memory, as does enjoying a bountiful breakfast at Bill’s.

A few colleagues of mine and I regularly visited Bill Granger’s first eatery Bill’s for Breakfast and Lunch. His scrambled eggs were so incredibly creamy you just had to keep going back for more. Then there were his Ricotta Hotcakes, served with fresh banana and honeycomb butter. Just writing about them makes you crave to taste them once more.

Over the last decade the Bambini Trust Café on Elizabeth Street has become a favourite. It is a real treat to enjoy a fine meal there with my son and his wife when I am in Sydney. Its a handsome place with a European flavour and a friendly Aussie sophisticated city touch.  The food is always amazing, the service relaxed and friendly. Reminds me always of good ‘old fashioned’ hospitality in every sense of the word.

Spending a little more than a decade in Brisbane was memorable in so many ways, especially cuisine wise. It went from being an overgrown country town in 1998, to a sophisticated small city that I left for good in 2009. Dear Brisbane, the city big enough to get lost in, but small enough to feel at home.

From Two Rooms at Milton to Circa with Brad Hamilton and on to Ecco’ and the culinary delights of The Gunshop Café. Then there was  Alchemy or Brad Hamilton’s 2nd incarnation Era Bistro Restaurant Two and Three Bistro with David Pugh and Mr Cool himself, Michael Conrad. Those two were in a class of their own.

Early morning coffee with a fresh almond croissant along the river, or a Sunday night special of Steak Chips and Salad at the Moray Café with the choir from St John’s Cathedral after Evensong were also great, as was breakfast at Harvey’s on James Street.

Of all the chefs in Australia I  have admired over the years Matt Moran is truly the man with the Midas touch and loads of X factor. Matt started his career at La Belle Helene Restaurant at Roseville nearby to where we lived on the north shore when the boys were all in high school. There we enjoyed many a memorable meal with friends as he mastered the art of French cuisine.

He opened his Paddington Inn Bistro with a partner the year our family all moved to Paddington from the North Shore and we became regulars. Revamping a pub from being a haunt of the 50’s blue singlet brigade was a sensitive thing to do at the time and wisely many chefs kept a casual back bar available for years later.

Moran also opened his own establishment at King’s Cross too, which we haunted often. He always came out to talk to everyone at the end of service to garner feedback personally, a wise and clever thing to do. I am sure the information stood him in good stead when he opened, Aria his masterpiece, where singing a song from an opera would seem an appropriate thing to do. Not because it is opposite the Sydney Opera House, but because it would be a wonderful way to show him appreciation and applaud the state of extreme excellence that he, and by and large many other Australian chefs have achieved over my lifetime.

Masterchef and other cooking shows on television have certainly help profile many cooks and chefs today, whose passion for food seems to never end. Above all it is talent combined with good produce that always wins out.

Moving to Melbourne to live permanently at the end of 2009 for me meant a whole range of new experiences.

There has been the likes of Verge, Ezard, Da Noi, Harvey’s and Vue de Monde whose chefs, including the brilliant Shane Bennett,  have continued to inspire my passionate pursuit of culinary delights.

We will soon be heading to the Botanical Restaurant with visiting friends from Brisbane. and to Pearl Restaurant for a birthday celebration. Both are true Melbourne experiences with a laid back sophisticated contemporary Aussie city style.

Botanical, nearby the gardens, has a new chef following a revamp of both the interior and kitchen. Cheong Liew Will has been voted ‘one of the 10 hottest chefs alive’ by the US Food and wine magazine. His style echoes a new trend in seasonal eating.

In a recent interview with The Age he said it was all about using food as a conduit to keep the body in harmony with the environment and to achieve the best of health.

Pearl Restaurant and Café on the other hand, is in the heart of the technology savvy advertising and design district of Richmond. The food is presented with great finesse and attention to detail. It has a focus on traditions and technique and the mood is elegant, casual, chic, cool and hip.

Executive Chef David Ricardo has designed many specials and the wok fried chilli mud crab with its broth, crispy fried eggplant with black vinegar and garlic chips, steamed broccolini with oyster sauce and coconut rice is amazing. The mud crabs are harvested by the light of a full moon, which apparently has some beneficial effect. Only the taste will inform you. This is a very good place to celebrate the festive season.

It has indeed been marvellous eating out in so many great restaurants around the world, as well as in Australia for nearly four decades now. Studying the art of cooking and entertaining has enabled me over the years develop an appreciation for fine cuisine as well as an ability to discern the brilliance of what was the best on offer on the day, from what was just great and good. The choice and diversity of both décor and cooking styles I have enjoyed has meant many wonderful experiences.

From the cosy and informal bistro’s at Paris to Melbourne Australia in the contemporary age, surely enjoying fime cuisine with those you love and care about in any setting, is the penultimate celebration of life. Seems I will have to keep up my one hour walk each day until I eventually blend into eternity.

Carolyn McDowall, The Culture Concept Circle 2011

This is the final of a three part series

Related posts:

1. Culinary Delights At Home & Abroad from School to The Savoy
2. Culinary Delights in Australia from Rationing to Riches
3. Sharing the delights of life…people have to eat!

When I left high school and went out into the wider world myself, my passion for learning about and enjoying culinary delights did not abate, but only grew stronger. Most young people and celebrity chefs today would find it hard to believe attending demonstrations of cooking at the gas company and electricity company, both government run institutions, were the only type of cooking classes on offer during the mid 60’s at Sydney. I did those as well. When we moved to live in the northern districts of Sydney in 1968 other experiences opened up, as a growing number of restaurants emerged onto the Sydney social scene. 1968 was a pivotal year for many new experiences. It was the year my first son was born and Margaret Fulton published her now famous The Margaret Fulton Cookbook, which was an instant success. Margaret encouraged the Australian women of her generation to look beyond the English staple of ‘meat and three veg’ we all knew about and become more creative. She gained a legion of followers, including me.

From the 50′s to the 70′s as Italians flocked from Europe to Australia we began flocking too, but the other way, to Europe. and England. We were leaving in our droves wanting to explore  the world as it began opening up to tourism made more possible by the magic of jet flight. Eating your way around each country region tasting the local cuisine was the best way to do it. Sightseeing was secondary. We discovered the cuisine and flavours of cafe’s and casual eateries all along the Italian and French Riviera. There was delicious Pasta at Tuscany, Pizza at Arezzo and delicious Pork and Veal at Rome. You could sit on the beach at Nice and indulge in fabulous pastries and superb coffee for breakfast while taking in the sight of topless sunbathers, both unheard of back home.

There was the beauty of both natural setting and food such as at the Auberge du Pere Bis at Talloire overlooking Lac Annecy in France. It was awesome. Then there was the excellent experience of dining in the fabulous Lalique glass decorated dining car aboard the Orient Express. It was unique. From the mid 1970′s to the end of the first decade of the twenty first century, I have to say many memorable meals have been eaten and simply fabulous wines have been drunk. Writing about them now will more than likely scare me to death and give me even more of a reason to keep up my one-hour walk each day.

In the late 70’s outside Sydney on a lovely stretch of the Hawkesbury River Berowra Waters Inn became a central pivot of Sydney’s dining in style evolution. To enjoy their sensational cuisine meant a long drive, or a short flight in a flying boat – definitely the glamour option. The Bayswater Brassiere opened at King’s Cross and together these two brilliant eateries gained a reputation for being great training grounds for emerging young artist chefs.

In Sydney’s eastern suburbs The Bay Tree at Woollahra was where you went if you wanted to collect an amazing array of French cooking ware, or take a class.

Susie Louden's Bay Tree in Queen Street at Woollahra, in its 2nd and current incarnation

At Mosman on the north shore Accoutrement, another new wave kitchen shop also started a cooking school. As it expanded so did participants incredible experiences and its reputation. Especially when they started wheeling in chefs who were well on their way to celebrity status. Planning your ‘at home’ dinner party became a rich experience.

All the time I was eating out I was also catering for my family with hundreds of business dinners, kindergarten and school fundraisers, as well as art and antiques openings. Working for social profit on the Black and White Committee for the Royal Blind Society and on The Red Cross Red Ribbon Committee for International Red Cross, meant constantly designing, co-ordinating and producing special events in major city hotels, spectacular venues or people’s homes. They always evolved around a fabulous meal with just the right wine, chosen to complement the food. These events, and attending wine appreciation classes helped me hone my skills for designing menus that were well received.

Hosting such events also assisted me to understand and appreciate diplomacy and the importance of all sorts of cultural connections and relationships. Consul General’s wives were Vice Presidents of the Red Cross Committee, along with me. Part of my role was to look after political guests and the Queen’s representative from time to time. I was only in my late twenties when all this started so it was a once in a lifetime experience.

Gaining an understanding of protocol and procedures as dictated by the Premier’s office at the time, included mastering the technique of introducing people by starting a conversation going between them before moving onto the next guest.  It certainly helped boost people’s self esteem, made them feel relaxed and helped give those who were nervous enough confidence to proceed. It was all about ensuring a great result for all. Creating win win situations for everyone was the order of the day during the 80′s and 90′s in both professional and personal life.

How wonderful it has been to enjoy so many rare and special culinary delights and amazing occasions with so may extraordinary people. Excellent eating experiences abroad were made possible because growing business in Australia following World War II meant making international connections. This also meant attending the best event ever invented. The annual International Conference. It was all about expanding business and its influence both rapidly and globally was profound. It helped found the tourist industry after the war and link cultures and communities all around a world, which was fast getting back on its feet and growing economies that all began to boom.

Lord Mayor of London is on the far left of the main table wearing his lace and velvet. We're on his table just in front of the Head Waiter, who is wearing a red sash. Right in front of us was the gold cup and cover used for the toasts

It seemed a shame to both of us to go all that way all expenses paid and not take time out for ourselves. So each year the adult annual holiday in our household was added onto the conference trip. The ‘baby boomer’ generation was on the move. However critics like to take us down, we certainly helped open up world trade and grow business locally, regionally and internationally. Our three boys stayed home and had fun with my bridesmaid and her husband who moved in, bringing their two daughters. Good for my boys because it helped them learn to socialise with girls, who became like sisters. They also began developing their own cooking skills and passion for culinary delights as my friend was also a great cook. They learned how to bake during my absence, and the sense of achievement was always strong when we arrived home to indulge in new cake or cookie creation.

Travelling to London during the first half of the 70′s for the first time for an Aussie girl of 28 years who had grown up quietly during the 50’s in a beach side suburb at Sydney was quite daunting, as was sitting down to dinner with the Lord Mayor of London in his home, Mansion House. We knew before we left. Having prepared myself to some point, by reading a great deal and asking older mentors for advice, nothing really prepares you for your first reality experience of London or its much denied class system. It was in play then, and still is now. Seated at one dinner at the Savoy between heads of major banking institutions and opposite two Lords meant a rapid learning curve in mastering the art of small talk. At least my Nan and Aunt Ivy had taught me how to deal with all the cutlery.

Eating Out at London

Two of my much older sisters lived in England from the late 40’s until the late 70′s.  One could say that I was encouraged to have a keenly developed interest in that country from when I was a small child, probably far more than most other people that I knew. My life included writing letters ‘home’ to England on a weekly basis.  It also helped that we saluted the flag at school every morning, sang God Save the Queen and were taught to keep to the left on the footpath and on the stairs. Families who had been transported to Australia struggled to keep the links to their homeland going for a long time, through its traditions and memory.

My sisters well remember the dreaded pea-soup style fogs that used to engulf post war London, cloaking it in darkness. Being caught out in the street in one could be a terrifying event. The yellowish thick smog was dreadful pollution from factories using coal, and it stank as well as being dank. The Great Smog of 1952 was one of the worst. With 4,000 deaths reported over a couple of days, later numbers put the dead more realistically at 12,000. The terrible toll led to achieving a quick passage for the Clean Air Act of 1956 through British parliament. It banned the use of coal for domestic fires in urban areas and throughout the 60′s life rapidly improved.

Jacqueline Bisset lighting her chef character's fabulous 'Bombe' dessert in the wonderful movie Who's Killing the Great Chef's of Europe

From always having to remain indoors to eat in England people started following the European example of moving out into the garden or part of the street. The numbers were small at first, then swelling to how we find it today. From eating pies, fish and chips and meat and three veg, Londoners started enjoying many different exotic cuisines, while their own was re-invented by a whole new breed of young star quality chefs. In very swish café’s or local restaurants at Chelsea or Shepherd’s Market, they began their rise to gain celebrity status.

From the early 70′s onward I came and went quite regularly and during that time watched London go from dark and dingy, to a gloriously glowing vibrant city clean, refreshed and ready to face the 21st century. Some of the chefs became so famous that actors Robert Morley, George Segal and Jacqueline Basset teamed up to make the marvellous fun movie Who’s Killing the Great Chefs of Europe in 1978. It was filmed in many of the best restaurants of the time, including one that was very special, La Tour d’Argent, but more about it later.

When in Rome they say you should do as the Romans do. On the Via Veneto we sat with very dear friends, drinking copious cups of coffee and spent hours people watching. The coffee in Italy at that time was certainly not weighed down by chocolate, but topped with such a light, full, fluffy and fabulous froth you quite literally had to sink through in order to reach the richly roasted flavoured coffee at the bottom of the cup. It was quite unbelievable, and completely delicious. And just one would never do.

This was a time when rich American ladies of a certain age could be caught cruising up and down this stylish boulevard on the arm of a stunningly handsome young northern Italian gigolo. You knew they were northern because they were so tall and devastatingly good looking, descending from the tall elegant lean and very cool Etruscans as they do. Down south it is a different story. Descendants of the ancient Greeks who settled Campania in colonial times, the boys there have flashing eyes and a very passionate outgoing nature.

Cougar was not a word that had come into the English vocabulary of the time, except in reference to a lovely cat in the jungle. Just watching them being so happy made my best friend and I hopeful that perhaps it was about changing attitudes.  We wanted discrimination and hypocrisy to end. We hoped that one day it would be okay for an older woman to be in society with a younger man as easily as it was for an older man to be out and about with a young woman. After all its hard enough to find love in the world to not cherish it when it does happen. At the time though one was a scandal, the other a societal norm.

The Via Veneto was oh so very stylish. After all this is where Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn enjoyed meeting in  his outside dining room in Roman Holiday. His apartment didn’t even have a kitchen, which for ordinary Australians at the time seemed almost entirely unbelievable.  As he pointed out to her, out there was where it was all happening. And indeed it was. We didn’t catch a wink of sleep in the eternal city. Just think to live like that meant you didn’t ever have to shop for, or store food, and you could choose just what you felt like at the time. Culinary freedom.

The Italians had led the western world with its Renaissance of humanist ideals and we had eagerly followed. But on this issue, well it seems amazing that nearly forty years on we are still building kitchens when we could be having better living conditions and supporting food commercially just as the Pompeians had prior to the eruption of 79AD.  At that time Roman cities had take-away food establishments on virtually ever street corner, and everyone took their own bowls with them to choose from the food of the day.

Cooking with olive oil was another discovery. We just couldn’t believe the taste, which was more than heavenly. Back home at the time olive oil was only obtainable in small bottles for medicinal purposes in a Chemist shop,  certainly not something you cooked with. Heaven forbid.

Italians were now flocking to Australia in giant numbers, looking for a new way of life. They may have thought Australians were a weird mob but they set out to educate us by bringing the food and culture of their homeland to Australia as the English before them. They planted a whole new array of vegetables, vines for wine and olive trees in groves for olive oil production. They would eventually forever change the way that we lived. When you add the Asian contribution into this milieu, with just a touch of French cuisine as well, then the future looked very bright indeed. Asia was on our doorstep and Hong Kong a doorstop on the way to Europe where culinary delights abounded.  There was a truly memorable dinner at Margeaux in the Peninsular Hotel where good manners and grace abounded.

The annual European conference, took us to some truly marvelous places. Vienna, Munich and Amsterdam are cities that will long stay in my memory, although the memories are not just about culinary delights. Vienna is one of those cities that takes over your soul. Its turbulent history is all around you, revealed in its architecture and the rich rituals of its residents and the horses dancing at the Spanish Riding School. Eating Sacher Torte while watching a waltz by Strauss in a park is a particular pleasure. I always loved the stylish way espresso coffee was served on a small tray with a glass of water and light luscious wafer to tempt the palette. Austria was truly gracious, the place where the sound of music always enriched your eating experience.

From Vienna to Salzburg staying and eating by the lake at Fuschl in an old Archbishop’s hunting lodge,  or enjoying a pint at The White Horse Inn on a misty day as a solo violinist played music by Camille Saint Seans, are memories that linger long.

Munich was always the surprise, where people elegantly dressed glided up the Max-Joseph-Platz to the opera, and afterward enjoyed culinary delights at The Bristol, whose idyllic Baroque and Biedermeier style atmosphere was soaked up by its most famous opera house singers and directors, including Gustav Mahler and Herbert von Karan.

Amsterdam was powerful and moving, because I had read the Diary of Anne Frank when I was 13, an age when such tragedy is absorbed into your DNA. It seemed at odds to me sitting with friends alongside Singel canal enjoying the sun, laughter, cuisine and company.

On one of the days an English friend, sensitive to my thoughts because we had been to visit the Anne Frank House together the day before, leaned over and touched me to say words to the effect, ‘Carolyn they died so we might live, we must honour them by doing so’.

She and her husband were both wise and wonderful, taking us to Amsterdam and back from England in their fabulous old Rolls. It was one of those with the delightful crystal flower holders inside, which she always filled with lily of the valley or roses. Arriving in that glorious old car for the main conference dinner in a castle by driving over its drawbridge will long remain in all our memories.

The Capital Hotel was founded in 1971 nearby to Harrods’s at Knightsbridge. It was a great modern experience to stay in, and eat at. Sleek and stylish, its restaurant exuded elegance while being contemporary of its time. It was entirely opposite to the sometimes overwhelming tradition at The Savoy on the Strand, which had also been revamped.

The Savoy’s famous Grill was always fabulous, and the huge fat juicy lightly grilled fresh figs they served in the mornings will probably always remain my most memorable meal ever for breakfast. Sitting there enjoying them it seemed such a long way to have traveled from school in search of culinary delights and, in just little over a decade.

Back here in Australia everything was changing rapidly too and the only thing to do was go with the flow. Eating in, or ‘at home’ was always a special event. None more so than when you were cooking for people you cared about. It was all about as my Mum and Nan would have said, having a sense of occasion.

One of the most memorable of my dining in culinary delight experiences was hosting the 40th birthday luncheon party for a friend, taking place on the day of all day’s Black Friday 13th. A ‘Black Cat’ Cake to celebrate was the only way to go.

Carolyn McDowall, The Culture Concept Circle 2011

This is part two of a three part series.

Related posts:

1. Culinary Delights Abroad & At Home from Blake’s to Botanical
2. Culinary Delights in Australia from Rationing to Riches
3. Sharing the delights of life…people have to eat!

Australians on the whole however, were not nearly as hard hit as their English counterparts.  The disruption of shipping saw the movement of foodstuffs around the world restricted when Japan entered the conflict in 1942. To manage the shortages, and in their attempts to control civilian consumption, those in power introduced the rationing system. Rationing meant a fair share for all, an orderly queue and about being patient and very polite.

In the food line tea was the most precious commodity. Tea leaves were saved and used twice and the left over tea ended up in the ice box to be served as ‘iced tea’ with a twist of lemon. For those without luxuries like soft drinks or alcohol it seemed entirely amazing. And, when the leaves were discarded onto the garden they helped the passionfruit vine (yum) and the choko vine (yuk) grow well on the wooden fence between us and the neighbours next door.

Cream off the top of the milk delivered each morning was another treat. I used to have this all the time while my brother was in hospital suffering the effects of polio, but when he came home we all had to make sacrifices to help him. One of mine was giving up this thick delicious daily treat as we all wanted him to be strong again.

Interestingly, real coffee was not something I remember as having existed at all in our daily family life. Bushells Tea was it. My mother did however have a bottle of Bushells coffee and chicory in the cupboard. She used  it to flavour cakes or to provide an occasional special drink for my father. My brother and I were fascinated, but it was a no go zone.

It was much later when we found out that at many points in history when coffee has become unavailable, or too costly roasted chicory, acorns, yams and a variety of local grains were used to make a substitute. This was because for coffee aficionados anything was better than going without coffee at all. The added plus for chicory fanciers was that it contained no caffeine and reputedly produced a more ‘roasted’ flavour than coffee itself.

I did not taste real coffee until, as a young married woman I went to Italy in the early ’70′s. I distinctly remember having my first cup of frothy coffee, sitting on the footpath at a smart cafe on the Via Veneto at Rome. This in itself for an unworldly girl from a beachside suburb down under, was a revelation and symbolic of going from rationing to riches.

My family grew up with the food my mother learned to cook from her mother as a child, when they lived in the country town of Scone in the mid north of New South Wales. They were all of English, Irish and Scottish extraction and had learned from their grandmothers who had learned from their great grandmothers who had migrated to Australia in 1844. Indeed great grandmother’s recipe on my mother’s side for the Christmas pudding has the secret ingredient of cold tea. It has come down through the family until today and my two puddings for Christmas 2011 are hanging in a cool place as I write this. Cooking the pudding on Stir up Sunday (last Sunday prior to Advent in the Christian calendar) is the way to go.

My mother’s side of the family came to Australia during terrible times of famine in Europe, when potato crops failed. The cuisine they served was a cross cultural mix of similar styles of food, hot and warming for a cold climate.  Food was a family affair and Sunday lunch the big meal, where many would just turn up to share.

My mother’s specialty was a roast lamb dinner with five veg, followed by apple pie and cream or bread and butter pudding. Didn’t matter how hot it was here in Australia, tradition prevailed. It wasn’t about good sense but about retaining a sense of security as well as bonds and ties to those still back home, as they used to say. My job was to gather fresh mint from the garden in the backyard and make the mint sauce. The lamb was roasted using dripping saved from the Sunday roast the week before and kept in a special tin. For our supper our mother would often use the dripping to make fried bread. Yum

Roast Lamb with Roast Pumpkin, Potatoes and Peas, a 50's Sunday treat

A big baked dinner was the culinary delight our mother served in our living room at Coogee Beach for some of the boys from the English Rugby Team staying nearby. They were on one of their first visits after the war and she was wanting to make sure they felt at home. After all we were English she would tell us. I was only very small, but distinctly remember one of the players Albert J Pepperell, lifting me up onto his shoulders so I wouldn’t be knocked over in the crush.

Fitting all those huge footie boys into my mother’s living room was quite a feat. Albert used to play rugby with my brother in law, who later went to England to continue his career at the same club in Northumberland. Albert was a favourite of my mothers, because he ate so heartily and those meals shared were entirely memorable. It was all about flavoursome food, traditionally designed to impart stamina for the men and boys when they came in from working in country fields.

Nana Margaret Schofield on the verandah at her cottage at Darlington aged 82 in 1957

Having Sunday lunch once when I was about eight years old with a young lady who lived next door to us at Coogee Beach for a short time, was a rarified culinary delight moment.  She lived with her guardian, although at the time I was never quite sure what that meant, and later she went away to boarding school so I did not see her again until she was all grown up. Everyone in that house was very proper and didn’t speak while the meal was served and only after that when spoken to. I was used to this regime, it was the same over at my house. No one was allowed to speak during meals because my father was a strict disciplinarian of the Victorian school. Family communication in his presence was zero.

Over at their house however, I remember vividly that the bread was taken without butter. Now I knew that they were rich, I had overheard my parents talking about them, so I couldn’t understand why they couldn’t afford to buy butter. When I enquired I was told it was not polite to ask, and was even more politely informed that ‘butter Carolyn is only something those who work with their hands require’. It all seemed very odd to me at the time, because all I knew was that I loved it, especially when it melted into my Nana’s still warm scones.

Boiled fruit cake with pineapple was another favourite, and a great specialty of my grandmother. Dear Nana, as we all called her, had belonged to the Country Woman’s Association (CWA).. She had won awards for her high, light and simply irresistible scones and sponges. When she came down to the city with her children before the war when my grandfather died, traditions lived on.

I can still remember the excitement my brother and I would feel as we got off the tram on a Sunday and came around the corner of Nan’s street at Darlington. There she would be outside her Aussie cottage waving to us with her apron on with flour all over her hands from the scones she had just made and popped into her early Kooka oven, hoping we were all coming. There was no way to let her know either way we were coming as neither household had a phone. I often wonder at it, even now, and how disappointed she must have been when we all didn’t arrive.

Just popping in without warning to visit family was an expected part of life in fifties Australia.  The culinary delights Nana popped in the oven were enough to motivate us to all be there most Sundays. Sometimes there were three or four families with all my numerous cousins, and we had to spill out into the side passage so that we could fit everyone in. No one really minded though, and I am sure now that the expectation of the laughter and chatter from all the young people was what kept her going until she was 90, cooking on that old Kooka gas stove in the corner. Well do I remember the day that she singed her hair, eyebrows and eyelashes, when it decided to play up.

From when I was about 10 years of age until I was married at 20 I would often go out and stay with Nana and my aunt Ivy, who lived with her. I would stay from Friday afternoon through Monday, when it was back to school or work. That meant I experienced her delicious cooking more regularly than anyone else in the family. When Aunty Ivy was killed, run over walking the dog at dusk when I was about 14, I went out there to stay more than often.

The highlight of holiday time was when, with my friends in the street where I lived and my brother, when he was able, we would go down the hill to the Boomerang Cinema near the beach with a bob in hand to buy a ticket, a packet of chips and an ice cream. Now this was not any ice cream. It was a passionfruit ice cream cone, loaded with my favourite fruit. Even today when I am staying with dear friends who live in northern NSW, we always head off to Byron Bay to enjoy an ice cream when I am there, because they also enjoyed this phenomenon of our youth, albeit in another place. It has become our culinary delight ‘ritual’.

Being taken to the Cahill sister’s famous Tea Rooms in Sydney for my mother’s birthday in May each year was a huge treat for her and also a family tradition until they closed down. Especially when my brother came out of hospital and could come too. He and I had both contracted polio. I was in hospital for 10 months, he for nearly five years. Our Mum would be so excited for days beforehand, taking her best dress out of the wardrobe to brush it and hang it on the verandah so that it would freshen in the sea air. I would wear my best dress too.  She was an accomplished seamstress my Mum.  The dresses I would wear to town, to church and to my Nana’s on Sunday afternoon had a huge hem, which she could let down as I grew.

There was the white voile with the blue sash or, the one with the pink polka dots and pink satin sash. It was my favourite and I was photographed wearing in celebration of my brother coming out of hospital. For the photograph they made him tuck his crippled left arm behind me and took the calipers off his legs. It was all about keeping up appearances, according to my Mum. Having a sense of occasion we were taught, was also very important. My mother would wear a hat, a signal to all of us that an outing was indeed expected to be a marvelous event.

The Miss Cahills whose fabulous tea shops were our families special place to go, were a Sydney fixture for a long time. As an aside, they built a weatherboard home in the Blue Mountains of Sydney because they were scared of the Japanese coming to Sydney during the War. It was Italian prisoners of war who helped to build their house Wynella Gardens, where each weekend they would visit from Sydney in a chauffer driven car accompanied by their maid. With a chain of tea shops all over Sydney they proved there was certainly money to be made in the taking of tea in style.

Then there was the biggest treat of all, one we enjoyed as a special treat once a year. Sitting up grandly for lunch in the Dining Room of Adams Hotel at Sydney, where my Auntie Ivy was head housekeeper. I would also go there quite often and stay behind the scenes with her in the kitchen and laundry while my mother shopped in the town. My aunt sat me up in the empty dining room and taught me all about how to set a table, what all the different knives and forks were for and also how care for silver and linen, a source of pride for her and the maids. It was certainly fun helping them and they would also take me into the pantry and give me an Anzac biscuit, which was indeed a true war time ration treat. I can still taste them now. In fact my friend in northern NSW still home bakes them. She recently gave me some to bring home when I visited. Hers are particularly delicious.  Shocking, I ate all six in one sitting.

Anzac biscuits were served on a plate with a paper doiley, a non negotiable decorative item

Eating out, unless you were super wealthy at least up until the time when I was married (1965) in Sydney was a rare event, reserved only for special occasions like a wedding.

It goes without saying that I was completely overwhelmed when a young man I had been dating, took me out to the very fashionable ‘Back of the Moon Room’ at the Oceanic Hotel at Coogee Beach and became my fiancee. My ring arrived with strawberries for dessert, following a fashionable meal of Chicken Maryland – a leg of roast chicken with a ring of Golden Circle Pineapple from a can on the top served with roast vegetables, We toasted with a glass of Lindemans Sparkling Porphry Pearl, which was the ultimate of chic and cool to serve with cuisine at Sydney in 1964. It certainly was about ‘making life more enjoyable’

We left feeling very rich indeed.

Carolyn McDowall The Culture Concept Circle 2010, 2011

Related posts:

1. Culinary Delights At Home & Abroad from School to The Savoy
2. Culinary Delights Abroad & At Home from Blake’s to Botanical
3. Sharing the delights of life…people have to eat!