Good neighbor policy

Living off the fat of the land. A delightful Ladies Luncheon at Ellen of Grove Street's this afternoon. The house she lives in was rebuilt by her grandfather following the Great Chelsea Fire of 1908, and every room is a revelation of craftsmanly carpentry — a mixture of old and new — and personal touches. Here a note-card reproduction of a local artist's watercolor of her ancestral home.

Above, the raised tin ceiling of her recently renovated kitchen lends a feeling of airiness, referencing ceilings of yore but in a fresh, up-to-the-minute iteration.

Perfect host Barkely, lord of the manor, is a Wheatland Terrior par excellence. He tried to keep his kisses to himself but couldn't resist giving Tuck's hands a good washing under the table.

Dueling salads, chicken and potato, with asparagus on the side, made for a coolly elegant menu on a muggy, muggy day. The chicken was based upon the Café at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum's signature dish studded with pistachios, cranberries and chunks of apricot. Deelish!

Recently retired from a richly rewarding lifetime of teaching music to kids from K-4,  Ellen regaled us with tales of soothing the savage breast of the young and restless. Her bottom line: You don't let them get away with being uncivilized. Obama and the appeasers could learn a thing or two from our friend's wise counsel.

Her house was full of eye candy — everything seemed designed to complement our own white linen with mint green outfit, the same one we wore to the gallery opening two weeks back —  and original paintings by her father and a famous relative who'd studied in Paris and limited-edition 19th-century lithographs.

The dazzling centerpiece was fashioned of all things bright and beautiful from Ellen's own garden: Orange daylilies, pink and purple hydrangeas, delicate panicles of Coral Bells "Palace Purple" white flowers.

Even the desserts came off the land, a delicious cobbler with raspberries picked that morning in her lower forty. She hadn't planted them herself, but the neighbor's Rubus strigosus preferred her sunny garden to his shady one and jumped the fence. She sent us home with a bagful. Raspberry soup, anyone?

What a good dog.

Comments

[hnav]

Now I am really Hungry !

Looks like another joyous time.

Best wishes.

[goomp]

Sissy, your great grandparents lived in East Boston at the time of the great Chelsea fire and watched through the night from their hilltop home as the fire literally changed the city from a major source of plumbing supplies and businesses into a burned-out wasteland. Forty years later they told me of the raging inferno and took me to see the still somewhat barren areas still not fully rebuilt.

[Gayle Miller]

What a totally HANDSOME dog. No doggie-kisses for Sissy?

[Teresa]

How wonderful! Having met Ellen at your gallery opening, I had heard about her house. It's terrific to see some of it. *grin*