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A tray of Javanese gourmet dish, Ayam Garang Asam or Tangy Chicken Curry. Served with steamed jasmine rice and rice crackers. The dish is a local favorite in city of Solo, Central Java.
Fresh from the garden, a plate of Calamondins sit in the fading afternoon light to await their fate of being turned into delicious tangy marmalade.
Transplanting
BY LEE ANN RORIPAUGH
For my mother, Yoshiko Horikoshi Roripaugh
1. X-Ray
My mother carried the chest x-ray
in her lap on the plane, inside
a manila envelope that read
Do Not Bend and, garnished
with leis at the Honolulu Airport,
waited in line—this strange image
of ribcage, chain-link vertebrae,
pearled milk of lung, and the murky
enigmatic chambers of her heart
in hand. Until it was her turn
and the immigration officer held
the black-and-white film up
to sun, light pierced clean through
her, and she was ushered from one
life through the gate of another,
wreathed in the dubious and illusory
perfume of plucked orchids.
2. Ceramic Pig
Newly arrived in New Mexico,
stiff and crisp in new dungarees,
her honeymoon, they drove
into the mountains in a borrowed car,
spiraling up and up toward the rumor
of deer, into the green tangy turpentine
scent of pine, where air crackled
with the sizzling collision of bees,
furred legs grappling velvet bodies
as they mated midair, and where
they came upon the disconsolate gaze
of a Madonna alcoved against
the side of the road, her feet wreathed
in candles, fruit, flowers, and other
offerings. Nearby, a vendor
with a wooden plank balanced between
two folding chairs and the glossy
row of ceramic pigs lined up across,
brilliant glaze shimmering the heat.
My mother fell in love with the red-
and-blue splash of flowers tattooed
into fat flanks and bellies, the green
arabesques of stem and leaf circling
hoof, snout, and ear. So exotic.
Years later she still describes the pig
with a sigh—heartbroken, the word
she chooses with careful consideration.
She’d filled the pig with Kennedy dollars
from the grocery budget, each half dollar
a small luxury denied at the local
Piggly Wiggly, until one day, jingling
the shift and clink of the pig’s
growing silver weight, she shook
too hard, and as if the hoarded wealth
of her future were too much to contain,
the pig broke open—spilling coins
like water, a cold shiny music, into her lap—
fragments of bright pottery shards
scattering delicate as Easter eggshell.
3. Sneeze
My mother sneezes in Japanese. Ké-sho!
An exclamation of surprise—two sharp
crisp syllables before pulling out
the neatly folded and quartered tissue
she keeps tucked inside the wrist
of her sweater sleeve. Sometimes,
when ragweed blooms, I wonder why
her sneeze isn’t mine, why something
so involuntary, so deeply rooted
in the seed of speech, breaks free from
my mouth like thistle in a stiff breeze,
in a language other than my mother’s
tongue. How do you chart the diaspora
of a sneeze? I don’t know how
you turned out this way, she always
tells me, and I think that we are each
her own moon—one face in shadow,
undisclosed seas and surprising mountains,
rotating in the circular music
of separate spheres, but held in orbit
by the gravitational muscle
of the same mercurial spinning heart.
4. Dalmatian
There is an art to this. To shish
kebab the varnished pit of avocado
on three toothpicks above a pickle jar
of cool water, tease down the pale
thirsty hairs of root until one sinewy
arm punches up and unclenches its green
fisted hand, palm open, to the sun.
To discern the oniony star-struck
subterfuge of bulbs, their perverse
desires, death-like sleeps, and conspire
behind the scenes to embroider
the Elizabethan ruffles and festoons
of their flamboyant resurrections.
To trick the tomatoes into letting down
their swelling, tumescent orbs
in the cottony baked heat of the attic
until their sunburnt faces glow
like round orange lanterns under
the crepuscular twilight of the eaves.
Unwrapping the cuttings of succulents
from their moist, paper-towel bandages,
and snugging them down into firm
dimples of dirt and peat, coaxing up
the apple-green serpentine coils of sweet
pea with a snake charmer’s song to wind
around the trellis and flicker their quick
pink-petaled tongues. The tender slips
of mint, sueded upturned bells of petunia,
and slim fingers of pine that pluck
the metal window screen like a tin harp
by the breakfast nook where my father
stirs his morning coffee and waits
for the neighbors’ Dalmatian to hurl
itself over the back fence and hang,
limply twisting and gasping on the end
of its chain and collar like a polka-dotted
petticoat, until my father goes outside
and takes its baleful kicking weight
in his arms and gently tosses it back
over the fence into the neighbors’ yard.
Year after year, the dandelions
and clover are weeded out, summers
come and go, and roots stubbornly inch
down around the foundation of the house—
labyrinthine, powerful and deep.
5. Japanese Apple
She was given an apple on the plane,
round and fragrant with the scent
of her grandfather’s fruit orchards
during autumn, when chestnuts
dropped from their trees and struck
the metal rooftop like the small heavy
tongues of bells, and black dragon-
flies like quick shiny needles darted
in and out of the spin and turn
of leaves fluttering down like soft
bright scraps of silk. She wrapped
the apple in a napkin to save
for later, and it was confiscated
at customs before she had the chance
for even a taste. Over the years it
seemed to grow larger, yellower, juicier
and more delicious, and even though
there were burnished rows of apples
stacked in gleaming pyramids
at the supermarket with quaint
names like Macintosh, Winesap,
and Granny Smith, and even though
there were sunlit apple orchards
at my American grandfather’s ranch,
where rattlesnakes slumbered
in the heat and redolence of fruit
flesh, frightening the horses,
she sampled one after another,
but they never tasted as sweet
or as bright as the apple taken from her,
the one she had to leave behind.
Lee Ann Roripaugh, “Transplanting” from Year of the Snake. Copyright © 2004 by Lee Ann Roripaugh. Reprinted by permission of Southern Illinois University Press.
Source: Year of the Snake (Southern Illinois University Press, 2004)
In celebration of National Hispanic Heritage Month...made a savory sandwich of Puerto Rico.
I will be posting my version of El Jibarito on my blog, sometimes SAVORY.
sometimessavory.wordpress.com/
Meanwhile, you can checkout a recipe by Tasty.
Jibarito Sandwich Recipe by Tasty
In this recipe, thin cuts of flap steak are marinated in orange and lime juice and sandwiched between 2
flattened, crispy fried plantains, or tostones. We finish things off with a tangy, garlicky mayoketchup sauce,
cheddar cheese, and fresh toppings like lettuce, tomato, red onion, and avocado. It’s crunchy, salty, creamy,
citrusy and delicious!
By Tikeyah Whittle [Tasty Team]
March 23, 2021
Total Time
2 hr 35 min
Prep Time
2 hr 20 min
Cook Time
15 min
Ingredients for 2 sandwiches:
STEAK
1 orange, juiced
1 lime, juiced
1 ½ tablespoons olive oil
2 ½ teaspoons adobo seasoning
½ teaspoon garlic powder
3 cloves garlic, minced
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
12 oz flank steak
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
MAYO KETCHUP
⅓ cup mayonnaise
¼ cup ketchup
2 cloves garlic, minced
½ teaspoon garlic powder
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
½ teaspoon kosher salt
TOSTONES
4 cups vegetable oil
2 green plantains, large
kosher salt, to taste
ASSEMBLY
4 slices cheddar cheese, halved lengthwise
¼ cup red onion, thinly sliced
½ cup fresh cilantro
½ cup lettuce, chopped
1 small tomato, thinly sliced
¼ avocado, thinly sliced
Preparation
1 Marinate the steak: In a large bowl, whisk together the orange juice, lime juice, olive oil, adobo
seasoning, garlic powder, garlic, and pepper. Add the steak and turn to coat. Cover and
refrigerate for 1–2 hours.
2 Make the mayo ketchup: In a medium bowl, mix together the mayonnaise, ketchup, garlic, garlic
powder, pepper, and salt. Cover and refrigerate until ready to use.
3 Sear the steak: Heat the vegetable oil in a large high-walled skillet over medium-high heat until
shimmering.
4 Remove the steak from the marinade and pat dry with a paper towel. Add the steak to the pan
and sear for 2-4 minutes on each side until the internal temperature reaches 135°F (55°C).
Remove from the pan and set on a cutting board to rest, then slice against the grain into ¼-inchwide pieces.
5 Make the tostones: Heat the canola oil in a large high-walled skillet over medium heat until it
reaches 350°F (180°C).
6 Peel the plantains and cut in half lengthwise. Add the plantains to the hot oil and fry until light
golden brown on all sides, 3–4 minutes. Transfer to a paper towel-lined plate to drain.
7 Working 1 at a time, place a plantain half on a cutting board. Place another cutting board on top
of the plantain and press down to flatten until the plantain doubles in width and is about ¼–½
inch thick.
8 Return the oil temperature to 350°F (180°C). Fry the plantains again, 2 at a time, until golden
brown and crispy on both sides, 1–2 minutes total. Transfer to a paper towel-lined plate to drain
and immediately sprinkle with salt on both sides.
9 Assemble the sandwiches: Spread 1–2 tablespoons of the mayo ketchup across a plantain. Top
with 2 half-slices of cheddar, and half of the sliced steak, onion, cilantro, lettuce, tomato, and
avocado. Spread another 1–2 tablespoons of mayo ketchup on another plantain and top with 2
more half-slices of cheddar. Top the sandwich with the second plantain. Repeat with remaining
ingredients to make another sandwich.
10 Enjoy!
RECIPE BY: Tikeyah Whittle
Mini frozen orbs of tangy blood orange juice and Grand Marnier. Perfect for an intermezzo or a simple warm weather treat. Make them larger for a fun night ;) Find the recipe at garrettkern.com/?p=368 . Photo by kern.justin (http://www.thewindypixel.com)
CAKE BAKE and ROLL
www.cakebakeandroll.com/1.html
52 Laird St.
Long Branch NJ, 07740
Corner of Ocean Blvd. and Laird St. at the entrance of Pier Village
Exit 105 off the parkway
Photos also on my blog, Baking is my Zen.
bakingismyzen.blogspot.com/2011/06/lime-gelato-so-tangy.html
My South Indian Lunch comprised of Masala Dosa, Khara Bath, Kesari Bath, Masala Vada, Pachadi and Coconut Chutney.
I was out with a group of divers dedicated to cleaning up the reefs here in Hawaii and ran across a large school of Yellow Tangs.
This rare vine produces wide-mouthed flowers in the tangy yellow and red colors, reminiscent of the savory spices of its homeland in India. It blooms in clusters from winter through summer with pendulous chains from which emerge wave after wave of eye-catching flowers.
Also known as Mysore trumpetvine
Strong tangy cheese, slightly peach colored
Gorgeous silhouette of the skyline of Amsterdam on the rind
Dancy tangerines were nicknamed Christmas tangerines for their presence in American markets during the holiday season.
The Dancy Tangerine tree is a variety of mandarin orange tree (Citrus reticulata). Dancy Tangerines are known for their sweet, rich, and slightly tangy flavor. They are often considered one of the best-tasting mandarins, with a well-balanced combination of sweetness and acidity.
The tangerines were the predominant type offered in consumer markets, but over time, they were removed from orchards in favor of modern cultivars. Dancy tangerines have thin, easily damaged skin, preventing them from being shipped long distances, and the fruits must be hand-harvested and clipped from the tree to avoid tears in the rind.
Vincent finally made his decision. He wasn't going to go home. Not tonight. Even feeling the effects of the herb couldn't squash the feeling of emptiness and taint he felt when he thought of going home tonight. Yet, as he stood on the curb of the main street that led downtown from the docks there seemed to be no carriages around. He knew all he had to do was wait a while and surely one would show up soon.
All of a sudden, Vincent's stomach made a loud gurgle and it caused him to actually grab his stomach in surprise. He smirked slightly to himself as he realized he was feeling hungry; likely induced by the herb. And as he thought about food, he began to feel like he wanted something savory. With the docks nearby, there would be food vendors still around. It was always a busy area, day or night. And he knew he'd be more likely able to find a carriage to take him downtown, too.
...
Vincent's mouth watered as he stood before the fried fish vendor and watched as his sandwich was being made. These street vendors always had the best food! And being right on the lake meant fresh fish was a popular menu option, which was a favorite of Vincent's. His fried fish was being smothered on top in a tangy, creamy sauce with a fresh tomato sandwiched between a perfect looking bun, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. Once handed his food, Vincent gave a grateful "Thank you" to the vendor before turning and setting off to find a spot to devour his food.
Licking a little bit of dripping sauce off the edge of the bun, Vincent gave a soft moan of appreciation at the hint of spicy flavor. This was going to be delicious! He wandered off to the side out of the way. Finally, over by a bench under a tree, he stood there and gave his sandwich an eager glance over before bringing it to his mouth. But before he could take a bite, he saw the shadow of someone approaching to his left. Hell, they weren't even paying attention, he realized with annoyance as he stepped out of the way just in time! They were walking backwards and looking around everywhere but where they were going! Vincent looked up with a small glare at whoever it was.
"Hey, watch it!"
"I'm so sorry! My bad, I- Vincent?"
Vincent blinked and stared up at the person as it registered that it was...Aiden. Aiden was in fact the offending pedestrian and not just a figment of his imagination! Vincent was so amazed by his unexpected appearance that his sandwich remained forgotten in his hands at chest level. Suddenly he blurted out the first words that came to mind.
"Are you stalking me?!"
Aiden was startled by the outburst and found he couldn't help but laugh! Vincent sounded so serious and was still staring at him as if he couldn't believe his eyes! Aiden shook his head and put up his hands in playful defense with a grin and insisted, "I'm not, I swear! I didn't mean to almost run you over. I'm- I'm lost." Aiden's grin faded as he glanced around then finally back to Vincent with an embarrassed smile.
"Lost?"
"Yeah. I was trying to find the short-cut I found the other day but I must have missed it. No, I can't have. Bah, I must be on the wrong street! Everything looks different at night!"
As the seconds passed, Vincent found he was becoming amused at Aiden's predicament and felt a little bad for him, too. While the docks were nearby, they weren't exactly close to where Leon's Claw was docked. He could point out how to get there from here but there were no short-cuts. Aiden had to be on the wrong street just like he thought he was. Even while under the influence of the herb, Vincent could see how Aiden looked a little worn out and flushed. Likely, he'd been wandering a while on top of having such a busy day.
"Are you okay?" Aiden asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied Vincent. He even leaned in slightly more to squint at him in the dim lighting. Vincent...seemed alright but somehow off. It was...almost as if he were drunk but not quite. He seemed to be in total control of himself and was answering without slurring. What was going on?
Opposite him, Vincent stared back at Aiden for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, Vincent grinned and replied in a slightly more chipper voice than Aiden had ever heard, "I am now!" And he brought his sandwich up to his mouth and took a big bite. He moaned softly and closed his eyes as he savored the favor.
"Mm! This is hitting the spot. Are YOU okay?" Vincent was suddenly asking him once he swallowed his first bite. He tilted his head slightly as he stared up at Aiden. Then without another word he took another bite of his sandwich while still staring up at his friend.
Aiden laughed softly as he tried to wrap his head around Vincent's behavior! He'd never seen Vincent act like THIS! Even to Aiden, he wasn't sure if it made sense. It was as if the captain had let go of his inhibitions more than usual. It wasn't to say he hadn't opened up more as of late but there was just something different about tonight.
"I'm fine," Aiden explained. "Really! Don't look at me like that! I've just been walking for a couple of hours now. That's all. How far away is the ship anyway?"
"I'd say about thirty minutes?"
"Well, shit. At least it's not too far. I can't wait to get something to drink."
"You look it. Why don't you get one on the way?"
"I forgot my money on the ship."
"Aiden!"
"What?!"
"What the Hell am I gonna do with you?"
Vincent chuckled softly and shook his head at Aiden's sheepish little smile. Vincent licked his lips and looked around. He could see a few of the public carriages coming in this direction. With any luck, he could snag one and head downtown! But what was he going to do with Aiden? Logically, he knew he could just send him off with directions. That's what he should do. Maybe he'd give him the money to get a cool drink, too. Yes, that sounded good. And when he looked back at Aiden to do just that, he was caught off guard as Aiden seemed to be leaning in and peering at him a little closer.
"Are you 'sure' you're okay?" the younger man asked as he tilted his head. "You never really answered me before and...I just realized your eyes are really red." Aiden's concern shifted into confusion as Vincent suddenly laughed softly and gave a small, dramatic sigh before replying, "I'm fine! Though, I'm fairly certain you've seen my eyes like this many times. You're only just noticing! It comes with smoking the herb and it's perfectly normal."
"Smoking the herb?" Aiden responded uncertainly. And then it clicked! "Isn't that what your bhang is made from? Wait....are you sure you should be smoking with your ribs like that?" At this, Vincent gave him a look as he responded firmly and with authority, "I know the risks and right now I could care less. It's been a Hell of a night, but at least I'm not fucking drunk. And...to answer your question: yes, it is what my bhang is made from." And with that, Vincent lowered his gaze with a small sigh. Aiden could see how his shoulders sank just a touch as well. He looked exhausted; not just physically but emotionally. Aiden couldn't help but wonder: what had happened in the last few hours since they'd seen each other?
"Would you tell me about it?"
"Tell you about what?"
"All of it. Any of it. Bhang. Herb. I still don't really know what it is. Or you could tell me about whatever happened since I left? I don't know. You just...look like you could use a friend."
God damn it all! How the Hell did Aiden do this?! Vincent knew Aiden was being genuine and just wanted to be there for him. But there were just some things he was not wanting to divulge; not that there was anything really to talk about, he thought to himself. Though Aiden had a way about him that brought down Vincent's defenses time and time again. Maybe he should just say goodnight. Right now was not a good time to discuss any of it. They were too out in the open!
On the other hand, he supposed he could just go with Aiden back to Leon's Claw, but honestly he still was wanting to go downtown. And while he wasn't sure about talking about what happened tonight, he surprisingly found he...he wouldn't actually mind explaining this whole cannabis business and what it was. In fact, he wanted to do it. But that meant taking his company on for the rest of the night and making sure he got back to the ship safely afterwards. Did he really want to deal with that? Really?
"Not here. Do you want to come downtown with me?"
Apparently so. There was no taking it back now. Vincent wasn't sure if he was going to regret this or not, but he wanted to be the one to help Aiden understand. It would also help his friend understand Vincent better as well; more of why and who he was.
"S-sure! But I don't have a way to get back without my money. Did you want to just go back to Leon's Claw first?" Aiden asked. He wanted to go with Vincent wherever he was going! What was downtown? He was curious! He could see Vincent considering it for a long moment then finally shook his head and responded, "I'll pay for your carriage back. Let's get you something to drink then when we get to my office I'll explain everything."
---
This scene was shot in the Second Life location: City of New Babbage- Academy of Industry beside The New Babbage Aehernauts monument!
---
Next Part:
www.flickr.com/photos/153660805@N05/53096384779/in/datepo...
To read the rest of the story, here's the album link:
www.flickr.com/photos/153660805@N05/albums/72157717075565127
***Please note this is a BOY LOVE (BL/yaoi/gay) series. It is a slow burn and rated PG13!***
Special thank you to my husband Vin (Be My Mannequin? Pose Store) for collaborating with me on this series and co-starring as The Captain!
DISCORD SERVER: That's right! The Captain and The Engineer has a Discord Server! If you wanna join and chat with other crewmates and see what's new and happening before it gets posted to Flickr, click the link!
***NEW!!!!***
The Captain and the Engineer now has a FACEBOOK PAGE! Please come Like, Follow, and join the crew! Thank you so much for all your support!
FACEBOOK PAGE:
Oh how fast things change, Yesterday teh plan was to make some a tasty tangy pasta dish from some fresh tomoatoes but another trip to the Leslieville Farm Market and soem fresh sweet corn made the decision for me. Some tasty charred corn for some fresh Pico De Gallo salsa. Looks like maybe Huevos Rancheros are on the horizon for tomorrows breakfast. If you like my photogrpahy show my website some love www.fulcrumimaging.com and don't forget about us on Instagram as well @fulcrumimaging and the blog at www.lenstoweb.com. Copyright 2015
Fior di latte mozzarella
Parmigiano Reggiano
Fontina
Gorgonzola dolce
So this was good, but making it a white pizza was perhaps a mistake. The cheese is so rich that a slice was enough. Next time I will have to make it rosa (with sauce). Perhaps the sweet, acidic, and tangy tomato sauce will balance it out.
Nemesis Wear:
**Crown & Earring | Skindustrial Bodiworks - Autumn
**Shape | {wren's nest} - Caliya Shape for LeLutka Camila
**Skin | CHSkin - Alison
**Effect Orange in skin | VENUS - Infinite Colors Skin
**Eyeshadow | Paix - Batman Girl
**Lingerie | GAW - Riya
**Nails | .::LUNA::. - Fall
➡️➡️➡️ Find it right now at SWANK EVENT!
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Swank%20Events/126/124/39?...
MORE INFO:
onlydivasl.blogspot.com/2025/11/swank-golden-leaves-tangy...
These berries are actually very small ones. They are tangy, hard and crispy. They pop in the mouth. I really like them.
Let me hold you
Let me be your escape
Let me be your nightmare and your dreams
Let me be that sweet tangy candy.
Crab cakes topped with a sweet & tangy remoulade. Served with roasted asparagus.
I LOVE LOVE LOVE asparagus...I could live off it!
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however, we are just a short distance from Cavendish Mews, at Mr. Willison’s grocers’ shop. Willison’s Grocers in Mayfair is where Lettice has an account, and it is from here that Edith, Lettice's maid, orders her groceries for the Cavendish Mews flat, except on special occasions like the soirée that Lettice threw for Dickie and Margot Channon’s engagement, when professional London caterers are used. Mr. Willison prides himself in having a genteel, upper-class clientele including the households of many titled aristocrats who have houses and flats in the neighbourhood, and he makes sure that his shop is always tidy, his shelves well stocked with anything the cook of a duke or duchess may want, and staff who are polite and mannerly to all his important customers. The latter is not too difficult, for aside from himself, Mrs. Willison does his books, his daughter Henrietta helps on Saturdays and sometimes after she has finished school, which means Mr. Willison technically only employs one member of staff: Frank Leadbetter his delivery boy who carries orders about Mayfair on the bicycle provided for him by Mr. Willison. He also collects payments for accounts which are not settled in his Binney Street shop whilst on his rounds.
Lettice’s maid, Edith, is stepping out with Frank, and to date since he rather awkwardly suggested the idea to her in the kitchen of the Cavendish Mews flat, the pair has spent every Sunday afternoon together, going to see the latest moving pictures at the Premier in East Ham*, dancing at the Hammersmith Palais or walking in one of London’s many parks. They even spent Easter Monday at the fair held on Hampstead Heath***. Whilst Lettice is away in Cornwall selecting furniture from Dickie and Margot’s Penzance country house, ‘Chi an Treth’, to be re-purposed, Edith is taking advantage of a little more free time and has come to Willison’s Grocers under the pre-text of running an errand in the hope of seeing Frank. The bell rings cheerily as she opens the plate glass door with Mr. Willison’s name painted in neat gilt lettering upon it. Stepping across the threshold she immediately smells the mixture of comforting smells of fresh fruits, vegetables and flour, permeated by the delicious scent of the brightly coloured boiled sweets coming from the large cork stoppered jars on the shop counter. The sounds of the busy street outside die away, muffled by shelves lined with any number of tinned goods and signs advertising everything from Lyon’s Tea**** to Bovril*****.
“Miss Watsford!” exclaims Mr. Willison’s wife as she peers up from her spot behind the end of the return counter near the door where she sits doing her husband’s accounts. “We don’t often have the pleasure.”
Edith looks up, unnerved, at the proprietor’s wife and bookkeeper, her upswept hairstyle as old fashioned as her high necked starched shirtwaister****** blouse down the front of which runs a long string of faceted bluish black beads. “Yes,” Edith smiles awkwardly. “I… I have, err… that is to say I forgot to give Fr… err, Mr. Leadbeater my grocery list when he visited the other day.”
“Oh?” Mrs. Willison queries. “I could have sworn that we had it.” She starts fussing through a pile of papers distractedly. “That isn’t like you Miss Watsford. You’re usually so well organised.”
“Well,” Edith thinks quickly. “It… it isn’t really the list. It’s just that I left a few things off. Miss Chetwynd… well, you see she fancies…”
“Oh, well give me the additions, Miss Watsford,” Mrs. Willison thrusts out her hand efficiently, the frothy white lace of her sleeve dancing around her wrist. “And I’ll see to it that they are added to your next delivery. We don’t want the Honourable Miss Chetwynd to go without, now do we?”
With a shaky hand Edith reluctantly hands over her list of a few extra provisions that aren’t really required, especially with her mistress being away for a few days. As she does, she glances around the cluttered and dim shop hopefully.
“Will there be anything else, Miss Watsford?” Mrs. Willison asks curtly.
“Err… yes.” Edith stammers, but falls silent as she continues to look in desperation around the shop.
Mrs. Willison suspiciously eyes the slender and pretty domestic through her pince-nez*******. She scrutinises Edith’s fashionable plum coloured frock with the pretty lace collar. The hem of the skirt is following the current style and sits higher than any of Mrs. Willison’s own dresses and it reveals Edith’s shapely stockinged calves. She wears her black straw cloche decorated with purple silk roses and black feathers over her neatly pinned chignon. “Is that a few frock, Miss Watsford?” the grocer’s wife continues.
“Ahh, yes it is, Mrs. Willison. I made it myself from scratch with a dress pattern from Fashion for All********,” Edith replies proudly, giving a little twirl that sends her calf length skirt flaring out prettily, and Mrs. Willison’s eyebrows arching with disapproval as the young girl reveals even more of her legs as she does. “Do you like it?”
“You seem a little dressed up to run an errand here, Miss Watsford.” Mrs. Willison says with bristling disapprobation.
“Well, I… I err… I do have some letters to post too, Mrs. Willison,” Edith withdraws two letters from her wicker basket and holds them up in her lilac glove clad hand.
“Well, we mustn’t keep you from your errand, now must we, Miss Watsford? Now what else did you require before you leave?” the older woman emphasises the last word in her sentence to make clear her opinion about young girls cluttering up her husband’s shop.
“An apple.” Edith says, suddenly struck with inspiration. “I’d like an apple for the journey, Mrs. Willison.”
“Very good, Miss Watsford.” the older woman starts to move off her stool. “I’ll fetch…”
“No need, Mrs. Willison!” Frank’s cheerful voice pipes up as he appears from behind a display of tinned goods. “I’ll take care of Miss Watsford. That’s what I’m here for. You just stay right there Mrs. Willison. Right this way, Miss Watsford.” He ushers her with a sweeping gesture towards the boxes of fresh fruit displayed near the cash register.
“Oh Fran…” Edith catches herself uttering Frank’s given name, quickly correcting herself. “Err… thank you, Mr. Leadbetter.”
Mrs. Willison lowers herself back into her seat, all the while eyeing the pair of young people critically as they move across the shop floor together, their heads boughed conspiratorially close, a sense of overfamiliarity about their body language. She frowns, the folds and furrows of her brow eventuated. Then she sighs and returns to the numbers in her ledger.
“What are you doing here, Edith?” Frank whispers to his sweetheart quietly, yet with evident delight in his voice.
“Miss Lettice is away down in Cornwall on business, so I thought I’d stop in on my way through in the hope of seeing you, Frank.” She glances momentarily over her shoulder. “Then Mrs. Willison greeted me. I thought I was going to get stuck with the disapproving old trout and not see you.”
“The weather looks good for Sunday, Edith. It’s supposed to be sunny. Shall we go to Regent’s Park and feed the ducks if it is?”
“Oh, yes!” Edith clasps her hands in delight, her gloves muffling the sound. “Maybe there will be a band playing in the rotunda.”
“If there is, I’ll hire us a couple of deck chairs and we can listen to them play all afternoon in the sunshine.”
“That sounds wonderful, Frank.”
“Well,” pronounces Frank loudly as the stand over the wooden tray of red and golden yellow apples. “This looks like a nice juicy one, Miss Watsford.”
“Yes,” Edith replies in equally clear tones. “I think I’ll have that one, Mr. Leadbeater.”
“Very good, Miss Watsford. I’ll pop it into a paper bag for you.”
“Oh, don’t bother Fr… Mr. Leadbeater. I’ll put it in my basket.”
Frank takes the apple and walks back around the counter to the gleaming brass cash register surrounded by jars of boiled sweets. “That will be tuppence please, Miss Watsford.” He enters the tally into the noisy register, causing the cash draw to spring open with a clunk and the rattle of coins rubbing against one another with the movement.
Edith hooks her umbrella over the edge of the counter, pulls off her gloves and fishes around in her green handbag before withdrawing her small leather coin purse from which she takes out tuppence which she hands over to Frank.
“Here,” Frank says after he deposits her money and pushes the drawer of the register closed. He slides a small purple and gold box discreetly across the counter.
Edith gasps as she looks at the beautifully decorated box featuring a lady with cascading auburn hair highlighted with gold ribbons, a creamy face and décollétage sporting a frothy white gown and gold necklace. She traces the embossed gold lettering on the box’s lid. “Gainsborough Dubarry Milk Chocolates!”
“Can’t have my girl come all this way to see me and not come away with a gift.” Frank whispers with a beaming smile dancing across his face.
“Seeing you is gift enough, Frank.” Edith blushes.
“Ahem!” Mrs. Willison clears her throat from the other end of the shop. “Will they be going on the Honourable Miss Chetwynd’s account, Frank?” she asks with a severe look directly at her husband’s employee.
“Um… no Mrs. Willison. Don’t worry. I’ll be paying for them.” Frank announces loudly. Bending his head closer to Edith, he whispers, “I can see why Mr. Willison has her in here when he isn’t. You can’t get away with anything without her knowing: ghastly old trout.”
Edith giggles as she puts the small box of chocolates and the apple into her basket. “I’ll save them for Sunday.” she says with a smile. “We can share them whilst we listen to the band from our deckchairs.”
Frank smile broadens even more. “Righty-ho, Edith.”
“Righty-ho, Frank.”
“Well, as I was saying, Miss Watsford,” Mrs. Willison pronounces from her stool. “We mustn’t keep you from your errands. I’m sure you have a lot to do, and it is almost midday already.”
“Yes indeed, Mrs. Willison.” Edith agrees, unable to keep the reluctance out of her voice. “I really should be getting along. Well, goodbye Mr. Leadbeater. Thank you for your assistance.” She then lowers her voice as she says, “See you Sunday.”
Both Frank and Mrs. Willison watch as the young lady leaves the shop the way she came, by the front door, a spring in her step and a satisfied smile on her face, her basket, umbrella and handbag slung over her arm.
“Frank!”
Frank cringes as Mrs. Willison calls his name. Turning around he sees her striding with purpose behind the counter towards him, wending her way through the obstacle course of stacks of tins and jars of produce, hessian sacks of fresh vegetables and fruits and boxes of bottles.
“Yes, Mrs Willison?”
“Frank,” she says disappointingly. “I can’t stop you from stepping out with a girl in your own time,” She comes to a halt before him, domineering over him with her topknot, her arms akimbo. “And I’d say the Honourable Miss Chetwynd is foolishly modern enough to let you take her maid out on Sundays.” She looks at him with disapproving eyes. “However, I’d be much obliged if you kept your dalliances to your own time, and kindly keep them out of my husband’s establishment during business hours!”
“Yes Mrs. Willison!” Frank replies, sighing gratefully, now knowing that he isn’t going to be given notice for chatting with Edith during work hours.
“And I’ll make an adjustment to your wages this week for the chocolates.” she adds crisply.
“Yes Mrs. Willison.” Frank nods before hurrying away back to the stock room.
*The Premier Super Cinema in East Ham was opened on the 12th of March, 1921, replacing the 800 seat capacity 1912 Premier Electric Theatre. The new cinema could seat 2,408 patrons. The Premier Super Cinema was taken over by Provincial Cinematograph Theatres who were taken over by Gaumont British in February 1929. It was renamed the Gaumont from 21st April 1952. The Gaumont was closed by the Rank Organisation on 6th April 1963. After that it became a bingo hall and remained so until 2005. Despite attempts to have it listed as a historic building due to its relatively intact 1921 interior, the Gaumont was demolished in 2009.
**The Hammersmith Palais de Danse, in its last years simply named Hammersmith Palais, was a dance hall and entertainment venue in Hammersmith, London, England that operated from 1919 until 2007. It was the first palais de danse to be built in Britain.
***Hampstead Heath (locally known simply as the Heath) is a large, ancient London heath, covering 320 hectares (790 acres). This grassy public space sits astride a sandy ridge, one of the highest points in London, running from Hampstead to Highgate, which rests on a band of London Clay. The heath is rambling and hilly, embracing ponds, recent and ancient woodlands, a lido, playgrounds, and a training track, and it adjoins the former stately home of Kenwood House and its estate. The south-east part of the heath is Parliament Hill, from which the view over London is protected by law.
****Lyons Tea was first produced by J. Lyons and Co., a catering empire created and built by the Salmons and Glucksteins, a German-Jewish immigrant family based in London. Starting in 1904, J. Lyons began selling packaged tea through its network of teashops. Soon after, they began selling their own brand Lyons Tea through retailers in Britain, Ireland and around the world. In 1918, Lyons purchased Hornimans and in 1921 they moved their tea factory to J. Lyons and Co., Greenford at that time, the largest tea factory in Europe. In 1962, J. Lyons and Company (Ireland) became Lyons Irish Holdings. After a merger with Allied Breweries in 1978, Lyons Irish Holdings became part of Allied Lyons (later Allied Domecq) who then sold the company to Unilever in 1996. Today, Lyons Tea is produced in England.
*****Bovril is owned and distributed by Unilever UK. Its appearance is similar to Marmite and Vegemite. Bovril can be made into a drink ("beef tea") by diluting with hot water or, less commonly, with milk. It can be used as a flavouring for soups, broth, stews or porridge, or as a spread, especially on toast in a similar fashion to Marmite and Vegemite.
******A shirtwaister is a woman's dress with a seam at the waist, its bodice incorporating a collar and button fastening in the style of a shirt which gained popularity with women entering the workforce to do clerical work in the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries.
*******Pince-nez is a style of glasses, popular in the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries, that are supported without earpieces, by pinching the bridge of the nose. The name comes from French pincer, "to pinch", and nez, "nose".
********”Fashion for All” was one of the many women’s magazines that were published in the exuberant inter-war years which were aimed at young girls who were looking to better their chances of finding a husband through beauty and fashion. As most working-class girls could only imagine buying fashionable frocks from high street shops, there was a great appetite for dressmaking patterns so they could dress fashionably at a fraction of the cost, by making their own dresses using skills they learned at home.
This cluttered, yet cheerful Edwardian shop is not all it seems to be at first glance, for it is made up of part of my 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures collection. Some pieces come from my own childhood. Other items I acquired as an adult through specialist online dealers and artists who specialise in 1:12 miniatures.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
Central to the conclusion of our story is the dainty box of Gainsborough Dubarry Milk Chocolates. This beautifully printed confectionary box comes from Shepherd’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom. Starting in the Edwardian era, confectioners began to design attractive looking boxes for their chocolate selections so that they could sell confectionary at a premium, as the boxes were often beautifully designed and well made so that they might be kept as a keepsake. A war erupted in Britain between the major confectioners to try and dominate what was already a competitive market. You might recognise the shade of purple of the box as being Cadbury purple, and if you did, you would be correct, although this range was not marketed as Cadbury’s, but rather Gainsborough’s, paying tribute to the market town of Gainsborough in Lincolnshire, where Rose Bothers manufactured and supplied machines that wrapped chocolates. The Rose Brothers are the people for whom Cadbury’s Roses chocolates are named.
Also on the shop counter is an apple which is very realistic looking. Made of polymer clay it is made by a 1:12 miniature specialist in Germany. The brightly shining cash register, probably polished by Frank, was supplied by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering in the United Kingdom. The cylindrical jars, made of real spun glass with proper removable cork stoppers which contain “sweets” I acquired as a teenager from an auction as part of a larger lot of miniature items. Edith’s lilac coloured gloves are made of real kid leather and along with the envelopes are artisan pieces that I acquired from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniatures in the United Kingdom. Edith’s green leather handbag I acquired as part of a larger collection of 1:12 artistan miniature hats, bags and accessories I bought from an American miniature collector Marilyn Bickel. The umbrella comes from Melody Jane’s Doll House Suppliers in the United Kingdom. Edith’s basket I acquired as part of a larger lot of 1:12 miniatures from an E-Bay seller in America.
The packed shelves you can see in the background is in fact a Welsh dresser that I have had since I was a child, which I have repurposed for this shot. You can see the dresser more clearly in other images used in this series when Edith visits her parent’s home in Harlesden. The shelves themselves are full of 1:12 artisan miniatures with amazing attention to detail as regards the labels of different foods. Some are still household names today. So many of these packets and tins of various foods would have been household staples in the 1920s when canning and preservation revolutinised domestic cookery. They come from various different suppliers including Shepherds Miniatures in the United Kingdom, Kathleen Knight’s Doll House in the United Kingdom, Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering and Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. Items on the shelves include: Tate and Lyall Golden Syrup, Lyall’s Golden Treacle, Peter Leech and Sons Golden Syrup, P.C. Flett and Company jams, Golden Shred and Silver Shred Marmalades, Chiver’s Jelly Crystals, Rowtree’s Table Jelly, Bird’s Custard Powder, Bird’s Blancmange Powder, Coleman’s Mustard, Queen’s Gravy Salts, Bisto Gravy Powder, Huntly and Palmers biscuits, Lyon’s Tea and Typhoo Tea.
In 1859 Henry Tate went into partnership with John Wright, a sugar refiner based at Manesty Lane, Liverpool. Their partnership ended in 1869 and John’s two sons, Alfred and Edwin joined the business forming Henry Tate and Sons. A new refinery in Love Lane, Liverpool was opened in 1872. In 1921 Henry Tate and Sons and Abram Lyle and Sons merged, between them refining around fifty percent of the UK’s sugar. A tactical merger, this new company would then become a coherent force on the sugar market in anticipation of competition from foreign sugar returning to its pre-war strength. Tate and Lyle are perhaps best known for producing Lyle’s Golden Syrup and Lyle’s Golden Treacle.
Peter Leech and Sons was a grocers that operated out of Lowther Street in Whitehaven from the 1880s. They had a large range of tinned goods that they sold including coffee, tea, tinned salmon and golden syrup. They were admired for their particularly attractive labelling. I do not know exactly when they ceased production, but I believe it may have happened just before the Second World War.
P.C. Flett and Company was established in Kirkwall in the Orkney Islands by Peter Copeland Flett. He had inherited a small family owned ironmongers in Albert Street Kirkwall, which he inherited from his maternal family. He had a shed in the back of the shop where he made ginger ale, lemonade, jams and preserves from local produce. By the 1920s they had an office in Liverpool, and travelling representatives selling jams and preserves around Great Britain. I am not sure when the business ceased trading.
Golden Shred orange marmalade and Silver Shred lime marmalade still exist today and are common household brands both in Britain and Australia. They are produced by Robertson’s. Robertson’s Golden Shred recipe perfected since 1874 is a clear and tangy orange marmalade, which according to their modern day jars is “perfect for Paddington’s marmalade sandwiches”. Robertson’s Silver Shred is a clear, tangy, lemon flavoured shredded marmalade. Robertson’s marmalade dates back to 1874 when Mrs. Robertson started making marmalade in the family grocery shop in Paisley, Scotland.
Chivers is an Irish brand of jams and preserves. For a large part of the Twentieth Century Chivers and Sons was Britain's leading preserves manufacturer. Originally market gardeners in Cambridgeshire in 1873 after an exceptional harvest, Stephen Chivers entrepreneurial sons convinced their father to let them make their first batch of jam in a barn off Milton Road, Impington. By 1875 the Victoria Works had been opened next to Histon railway station to improve the manufacture of jam and they produced stone jars containing two, four or six pounds of jam, with glass jars first used in 1885. In around 1885 they had 150 employees. Over the next decade they added marmalade to their offering which allowed them to employ year-round staff, rather than seasonal workers at harvest time. This was followed by their clear dessert jelly (1889), and then lemonade, mincemeat, custard powder, and Christmas puddings. By 1896 the family owned 500 acres of orchards. They began selling their products in cans in 1895, and the rapid growth in demand was overseen by Charles Lack, their chief engineer, who developed the most efficient canning machinery in Europe and by the end of the century Chivers had become one of the largest manufacturers of preserves in the world. He later added a variety of machines for sorting, can making, vacuum-caps and sterilisation that helped retain Chivers' advantage over its rivals well into the Twentieth Century. By the turn of the century the factory was entirely self-sufficient, growing all its own fruit, and supplying its own water and electricity. The factory made its own cans, but also contained a sawmill, blacksmiths, coopers, carpenters, paint shop, builders and basket makers. On the 14th of March 1901 the company was registered as S. Chivers and Sons. By 1939 there were over 3,000 full-time employees, with offices in East Anglia as well as additional factories in Montrose, Newry and Huntingdon, and the company owned almost 8,000 acres of farms. The company's farms were each run independently, and grew cereal and raised pedigree livestock as well as the fruit for which they were known.
Founded by Henry Isaac Rowntree in Castlegate in York in 1862, Rowntree's developed strong associations with Quaker philanthropy. Throughout much of the Nineteenth and Twentieth centuries, it was one of the big three confectionery manufacturers in the United Kingdom, alongside Cadbury and Fry, both also founded by Quakers. In 1981, Rowntree's received the Queen's Award for Enterprise for outstanding contribution to international trade. In 1988, when the company was acquired by Nestlé, it was the fourth-largest confectionery manufacturer in the world. The Rowntree brand continues to be used to market Nestlé's jelly sweet brands, such as Fruit Pastilles and Fruit Gums, and is still based in York.
Bird’s were best known for making custard and Bird’s Custard is still a common household name, although they produced other desserts beyond custard, including the blancmange. They also made Bird’s Golden Raising Powder – their brand of baking powder. Bird’s Custard was first formulated and first cooked by Alfred Bird in 1837 at his chemist shop in Birmingham. He developed the recipe because his wife was allergic to eggs, the key ingredient used to thicken traditional custard. The Birds continued to serve real custard to dinner guests, until one evening when the egg-free custard was served instead, either by accident or design. The dessert was so well received by the other diners that Alfred Bird put the recipe into wider production. John Monkhouse (1862–1938) was a prosperous Methodist businessman who co-founded Monk and Glass, which made custard powder and jelly. Monk and Glass custard was made in Clerkenwell and sold in the home market, and exported to the Empire and to America. They acquired by its rival Bird’s Custard in the early Twentieth Century.
Queen’s Gravy Salt is a British brand and this box is an Edwardian design. Gravy Salt is a simple product it is solid gravy browning and is used to add colour and flavour to soups stews and gravy - and has been used by generations of cooks and caterers.
The first Bisto product, in 1908, was a meat-flavoured gravy powder, which rapidly became a bestseller in Britain. It was added to gravies to give a richer taste and aroma. Invented by Messrs Roberts and Patterson, it was named "Bisto" because it "Browns, Seasons and Thickens in One". Bisto Gravy is still a household name in Britain and Ireland today, and the brand is currently owned by Premier Foods.
Huntley and Palmers is a British firm of biscuit makers originally based in Reading, Berkshire. The company created one of the world’s first global brands and ran what was once the world’s largest biscuit factory. Over the years, the company was also known as J. Huntley and Son and Huntley and Palmer. Huntley and Palmer were renown for their ‘superior reading biscuits’ which they promoted in different varieties for different occasions, including at breakfast time.
In 1863, William Sumner published A Popular Treatise on Tea as a by-product of the first trade missions to China from London. In 1870, William and his son John Sumner founded a pharmacy/grocery business in Birmingham. William's grandson, John Sumner Jr. (born in 1856), took over the running of the business in the 1900s. Following comments from his sister on the calming effects of tea fannings, in 1903, John Jr. decided to create a new tea that he could sell in his shop. He set his own criteria for the new brand. The name had to be distinctive and unlike others, it had to be a name that would trip off the tongue and it had to be one that would be protected by registration. The name Typhoo comes from the Mandarin Chinese word for “doctor”. Typhoo began making tea bags in 1967. In 1978, production was moved from Birmingham to Moreton on the Wirral Peninsula, in Merseyside. The Moreton site is also the location of Burton's Foods and Manor Bakeries factories. Typhoo has been owned since July 2021 by British private-equity firm Zetland Capital. It was previously owned by Apeejay Surrendra Group of India.
Lemons are the most maligned fruit in the English language, take for example, "when life gives you lemons,....", "you've bought a lemon.." (all to denote something bad or faulty)!
And yet, where would we be without that bit of lemon juice and lemon zest added to a drink or a dish which makes such a wonderful difference, don't you agree?
Meninas, mais um coral, será que vocês aguentam? hehehe
Fiquei muito maravilhada com esse coral lindinho da Jordana, fácil de passar e super opaco, nada como o coral chic da Colorama. Muito parecido com o Orange Fizz da Chanel, que é um pouquinho mais alanranjado que esse. É para a gente ver que a gente não precisa pagar os olhos da cara para ter um esmalte lindo e de boa qualidade...
beijocas a todas!
Roquefort cheese is a renowned blue cheese from France, known for its tangy flavour, creamy texture, and unique aging process in natural caves.
Roquefort cheese originates from the village of Roquefort-sur-Soulzon in southern France. It is made exclusively from the milk of the Lacaune breed of sheep, which graze on the limestone-rich pastures of the region. The cheese is aged in the natural Combalou caves, where the cool and humid environment promotes the growth of the mould Penicillium roqueforti, giving Roquefort its characteristic blue veins.
Roquefort is celebrated for its distinctive flavour, which is a complex blend of tangy, salty, and creamy notes. The blue veins contribute a sharp, spicy kick, while the overall taste can vary depending on the cheese's age—younger Roquefort tends to be milder and creamier, while older varieties are more pungent and intense. The cheese has a crumbly texture and is often described as having a rich mouthfeel that enhances the tasting experience.