When I Step Over Your Threshold

[racheld]

Thank you. That teared me up faster than a gauntlet of Kents and Spraynet.

My fiancee makes a convincing case for cooking in Shalimar and nothing else.

She extols the latter virtue. Occasionally, for a change of pace, she cooks in Shalimar and pearls.

Everything just seems to taste a little better that way.

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Sorry I misread the "e's" We had driven four hundred miles yesterday, and it was late here.

And our home when I was growing up always smelt of BOOKS. We had lots of new BOMC ones which I read much too young, all the ones from our school libracy, and the loads I lugged home from the little depot-turned-library which dispensed books and the cookies made by the nice lady librarian. And the old crumbly ones, whose pages would shatter at the corner if you didn't turn with your gentlest touch. And my own personal trove---a gift from a between-generations cousin, who was exactly ten years younger than my Mother and older than I. She was the Nellie Oleson of our time, an absolute terror, whose parents owned one of the two little grocery stores in a neighboring town, and who had an enticing gallery of exquisitely-dressed dolls, ordered from "OFF" for her childhood Christmases and birthdays.

She also had BOOKS. Bought books of her own, whole series of Nancy Drew and Judy Bolton and the Maida series and the Hardy Boys and every Tarzan in print. I would look at the dolls (not allowed to touch), but I coveted those books with a grievous avarice, and when I was in third grade, we got the CALL: Come get something she was giving away. She was putting away childish things, and my Mammaw's joy at the idea that I would be receiving all those gloriously-attired dolls was boundless, and she had discussed shelving with my carpenter Dad, hoping to provide them with the perfect display area. We arrived to find three huge boxes, all packed and taped, and so heavy that they required the dolly and the help of a couple of bystanders. I was absolutely mortified that my Dad was handling a big container with "KOTEX" emblazoned on the side, RIGHT THERE IN DAYLIGHT.

But the bubble of joy that displaced all the feeling in my stomach---that anticipation and pre-enjoyment is still a milestone in my life for sheer happiness. I spent the entire Summer immersed in places and lives outside my own realm; I was right there in the front seat of that roadster (in my own smart outfit and dashing hat) as Nancy sped toward the solution to the mystery. I passed whole days up an enormous pecan tree, trekking the steaming jungles in pursuit of elephant burial grounds and horrid traders and Jane-rescue. Cousin gave the dolls to the younger sisters of her boyfriend, and I have no doubt that they were soon scattered around that tatty yard, clothes trampled and whisked away in the wind, but I can still close my eyes and be up that tree in the deep Summer heat, keeping watch for lascivious Jane-stalkers and angry tribesmen.

The scent of old paper, the Johnson's wax we used on the hardwood floors(my Saturday polishings were carried out to rocking music, as I put on Daddy's old socks and danced the floors shiny), the flowers which were always present, the faint scent of my Mother's Pall Mall's, the aura of Chanel and Joy and Estee Lauder wafting from her dressing area, the delicious odors from the kitchen, where we would all be chopping and cooking and baking, the Summer tang of vinegar simmering in the latest batch of pickles, plus the Coppertone richness of a hundred days in the sun---those are still the scent-memories of my life, and my own home replicates these in its own way.

Today there is a strong mentholflower scent of lavender, for the syrup I'm about to simmer for a Buttermilk Cake. It's supposed to be a lovely clear shade of pink, but my lavender has no flowers yet. I'll go out later and gather great handfuls of basil for the rustic pasta dish of angelhair, tossed hot with cool tomato, shredded basil, olive oil and Parmesan shreds. Garlic will be an undertone, from the shrimp marinade, and of course, the Cling-free sheets and the little Oust dispensers on the wall will ad their own notes of harmony to the whole.

We have no idea of the complexities of our own homes' personae---the scents are just one of the points which go into their makeup; a friend used to come to our house often, and several times she said, "This smells like rich folks' houses." It was just a little house on a little street in a VERY little Southern town...but she was WAY right about the rich part. Books and music and really good food and friends to visit...wealth beyond wishes.

And now back to our RSP.

[malarkey]

yeast bread. from yesterday's failed baking experiment!

[Badiane]

Racheld, that was really great

Right now we have all the smells of summer...basil, mint, lavendar...rosemary and sage soap...various jams and relishes and chutneys cooking...tomatoes and peaches ripening...corn husks drying. All with a hint of fishing gear and cleaning supplies

[browniebaker]

Today the smell of bread I baked this morning dominates, but people often say as they first walk in that they like the smell of my house. I think it's the woody smell of oak floors populated with leggy, wood furniture.

[maggiethecat]

Just beautiful, rachel.

I had to smile when I read jackel's reply, because right now my house smells of scrambled eggs, buttered toast and Mitsouko. I am a Guerlain girl, and have been all my life.

Now off for my lunchtime cigarette.

[reesek]

this is a great topic.

last night, i was overwhelmed by the smell of pork blood. i got some pork from the sunday market and the smell of the blood as i removed it from the package for brining was intense.

usually it smells like sunshine, dust and whatever garlicky spread i'm whipping up at the time.

[Carrot Top]

Yeah, it is a good topic, isn't it? I'm hooked.

Here today it smells like Bolognese Sauce, Origins Tangerine Body Balm, and freshly ground black pepper. With an overlay of air-conditioning which does not sound as good as the other stuff, but for which I am extremely grateful.

Here, jamie. . .your ponderings on your fiancee's ways of cooking reminded me of a quote so I looked it up:

"Zee always went naked in the house, except for the brassiere she wore when it was her turn to get dinner. Once, cooking French-fried potatoes in a kettle of boiling fat, she had come within an inch of crisping her most striking features."

G.S. Albee

Or in other words, be sure she exercises caution.

[Ondine]

In my house, you'll smell garlic, red wine and books.

This last few weeks as I've bought a new bed you will also smell cedar.

And after I cooked dinner tonight you'll smell pesto, braised leeks and lemon verbena.

And Carrot Top, I learned long ago that no matter how hot a day it is it is dangerous to cook bacon in the nude. Apron is a good idea.

[racheld]

And after I cooked dinner tonight you'll smell pesto, braised leeks and lemon verbena.

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Those three get the YUM-buds a-tingle. Pray tell what was the lemon verbena a part of? I'm seeing a sauce over cake and ice cream, with a scatter of the flowers on top.

Mainly because we just had Buttermilk Cake with Lavender Sauce.

[Genny]

Maggie: classic, just classic. (and sexy!)

Racheld: You're choking me up woman! Beautiful nostalgic expression that triggers memories long forgotten.

My house: I have no idea what it smells like on a daily basis without the cooking. I suppose some combination of gardenia, orange and warm sleepy kitty. I love the smell of my kitty When I'm cooking there is almost always onions and garlic wafting through the house. Tonight it will smell like fruit since it is too damn hot!

My Mom's house: Lemon pledge, PineSol, coffee and cigarettes, sunshine and dust. I find that I use the same cleaning products my mom used largely to keep her close to me.

What a great topic, so intimate and nostalgic!

[shelora]

The air is still perfumed by last night's sudden urge to fry 10 cloves of garlic, thinly sliced in EVVO.

I've just made a vegetable soup from a roasted chicken stock. Its a nice triplet.

[torakris]

apparently my house always smells like an Italian restaurant..

A friend of mine who moved away 6 months ago called to catch up on things and she told me that just a couple days before she and her 4 year old son were walking past an Italian restaurant when her son commented that it smelled just like Hide's (my son) house.

[Chris Amirault]

Might that be the aroma of garlic, Kristin? You go!

Right now, our house smells like no-food, as I've been cooking on the grill, making salads -- and tonight I had the propane-driven Patio Wok thingamajiggy out on the front porch during a crazy thunderstorm, for crying out loud. Like Cole Porter wrote and Ella Fitzgerald sang, it's too darn hot....

[Ling]

I am a Guerlain girl, and have been all my life.

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I'm a Guerlain girl too, but I wear Omnia.

[Rachel Perlow]

Right now, you'll smell fermenting pickles. I've got to find a better place to cure them besides the cabinet over the fridge.

[Ondine]

Those three get the YUM-buds a-tingle.  Pray tell what was the lemon verbena a part of?  I'm seeing a sauce over cake and ice cream, with a scatter of the flowers on top.

Mainly because we just had Buttermilk Cake with Lavender Sauce.

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Infused into a Creme Brulee which didn't survive the night!

Edited July 28, 2005 by Ondine (log)

[racheld]

Infused into a Creme Brulee which didn't survive the night!

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That's one of the talents of Creme Brulee---they were born to be admired, cracked with a spoon, eaten with great glee and enjoyment, then left OUT of the fridge, lest their golden shield become a droopy, drippy, less-than-perfect covering. The crackle is a great part of the charm, and crunchy bites of browned sugar are necessary to the whole experience.

They sit there, late into the evening, telegraphing their message: "I'm still here---Come here!!! You know I won't make it through til morning!!" At least the last is correct---none at our house have ever seen daylight, save as a tiny thread of missed custard in the bottom of the dish.

Midnight cravings, indeed...and 10 p.m. And 3 a.m.

And I can just TASTE that lemony custard.

[hathor]

OK, here's a question among friends: does anyone else dream scents? The other night I woke up smelling fresh sardines..which I happen to adore. But the scent was so strong, I literally had to get up to check to see if there was any fish in the bedroom. There wasn't.

Sometimes, I'll just dream of my grandmothers scent: Jean Nate body splash with maybe a hint of onion.

Tonight the house smelled of Thanksgiving! I had to to cook some turkey breast for tommorows lunch, and in the heat, the smell of Thanksgiving was just disorienting!

[Carrot Top]

That is fantastic, hathor! No, I haven't dreamt scents but have dreamt of talking of scents and have smelled them in my dream, but not in the visceral way you describe.

The sense of smell is supposedly the strongest of our senses in terms of memory retention. People will remember exactly what a house smelled like, or what their grandmother's kitchen smelled like, many years later. . .and not be able to remember any other particulars regarding the scene. . .clothing (visual), conversation (aural), the taste of the food that day or the weather.

I love smells. If I imagine Heaven, it would be filled with good smells, for me. . .one just coming right after the next.

How lucky you are to be like that! (Unless, of course, the sardine was rotten. . . )