Gathering Moments

Life is a plot line.

We are born, time passes, stuff happens and then we die.

End of story.

(All photos by LBG.)

When we're growing up, many of us spend a lot of time focusing on the job, the salary, the house, and all the rest of it -- all the achievements that shore up the structure of our lives. The so-called "big stuff."

(London, 2010.)

But if we're lucky, there will come a day when we realize that the big stuff isn't what matters most. Sure, all the challenges and triumphs are important. But what lies in between them  -- in all those spaces and crevices brimming with small unheralded moments -- is where we are really given the chance to live meaningfully. 

Take your morning cup of coffee, for example. It's nothing special unless you invest it with significance. 

But how do you do that?

Maybe you suddenly appreciate the thick velvety silence that surrounds you while the rest of the world sleeps. Or maybe you listen to the birds outside and realize that no matter what happened yesterday, they always wake up optimistic for the future. Or maybe you are reminded of a photo you once saw of Elizabeth Taylor sipping coffee on a yacht in the Sardinian sea. Or maybe you just are grateful that the crick in your neck is gone. 

That's the crazy-simple secret of a satisfying life: appreciating as many of these teeny tiny little moments as you can.

Once you open your eyes and your heart to them, you will find them everywhere.

In a pair of unlikely friends.

(Ford and Paul. Photograph by Jeanne Tripplehorn.)

In the dwindling rays of sunlight falling across a vast plain of possibility.

(Sunset in the Moroccan desert, 2009.)

In the cheerful warmth of a favorite room.

(Home, 2012.)

In a sweaty handful of wildflowers.

(Normandy, France, 2007.)

In the promise of a blackberry cardamom almond cake fulfilled.

(Home, 2012. Recipe from Scandalicious, HERE.)

In the joy of being able to lose yourself in your work.

(detail, "On the Price of Beauty",  2010.)

In the late afternoon hike no one wanted to go on and everyone ended up glad they did.

(Hollywood Hills, 2011.)

In ten minutes of not moving a muscle.

(Home, 2012.)

In the private unveiling of one perfect flower.

(Home, 2012.)

All these things will melt into you and become part of you, if you let them.

Let them.

x/Lisa

Ten Simple Lovely Things

(Click HERE.)

Thank you to Joslyn over at Simple Lovely for her post on some of my most recent favorite things. It was an honor to answer her questions.  And I return the girl crush!

How To Be Happier

Happiness doesn't come to those who sit back and wait for it.

It comes to those who fight for it.

1. Unless you make make being happy a priority, it might pass you going in the other direction without you ever realizing it.

(Lake Pichola, India. 2007. All photos by LBG.)

So start small. Do something positive for yourself tomorrow morning, whether it's fixing yourself a healthier breakfast, talking to someone gently instead of grumpily, or just closing your eyes and thinking about nothing for ten minutes.

(Home, 2012.)

           

2. Try your best not to get caught up in the ridiculousness of life. 

It's easier than ever these days to get sidetracked by meaningless pageantry and unnecessary drama. All it does is surround you in a fog of confusion and obscure you from your goal. When this happens, step away from the mist and focus on what matters.

(Rishikesh, 2007.)

Think of the funny way your dog sighs when he's sleeping. Think of the delight on your friend's face when you gave her those wildflowers. Think of how few ingredients you really need to make a simple delicious meal. 

(Home, 2012.)

3. Remember that chaos is in the eye of the beholder. 

This is a photo of a peaceful morning in India.  

(New Delhi, 2007.)

And this is a photo of hardly any traffic to speak of.

(New Delhi, 2007.)

Chaos only becomes frustrating when you choose to look at it that way. Change your attitude and who knows what you might discover? (Penicillin, Post-Its, Velcro and chocolate chip cookies, for starters.)  

Even better, start collecting chaos. But limit it to the stuff that really speaks to your soul. You'll be surprised what you learn about yourself.  

(Home, 2012.)

4. Remember that a ray of light is easiest to spot when it's surrounded by complete darkness. 

Don't let tough times get the best of you. This is easier said than done, I know. But don't give up. Put your trust in something bigger than yourself, turn on some good music and keep looking for the light.

(Rishikesh, 2007.)

You can start by practicing at home.

             

(Home, 2012.)

5. Remember that even a palace garden is sown and nurtured one square inch at a time.

(Udaipur, 2007.)

Every dream starts out small and fragile and a tiny bit scared. That's why you're there -- to water it and feed it and encourage it and never lose sight of the ultimate vision. There will be a million steps along the way. Take pride in checking off each little one.

(Home, 2012.)

6. In India, they have a saying, "Everything will be all right in the end. So if it is not all right, it is not yet the end."*

(Jaipur, 2007.)

*Line stolen from "The Exotic Marigold Hotel" trailer, which I absolutely cannot wait to see.

A Rose is a Rose is a Rose

My husband teases me that I am like a nervous vicar when I cook, always slightly fearful that something is about to go horribly wrong ("The organist is ill! The vestry roof is leaking!"). He's right. When I take out my mixing bowls, a twinge of dread looms up. "Can I do this? Is it beyond my abilities? Should I just go out and buy dessert instead?"

But this wasn't difficult, I promise.

(Sophie Dahl's Marbled Rose Petal Ice Cream. From HERE. Or HERE.)

Five were coming for dinner on Friday. Piero had planned the main menu days before, done all his food shopping, and was sitting at the kitchen table lazily nursing a double espresso.

Piero: It's Thursday. Any idea what you're going to make for dessert yet?

Me: Could you please just go for a really long bike ride?

He did.

I picked up Very Fond of Food: A Year in Recipes, Sophie's latest cookbook. Just like her first one, it's food and lifestyle porn at its best -- on page after page, she putters around her kitchen in floaty frocks like a Persephone Books heroine and beams out at you with the most reassuring of smiles. When I spotted her making rose petal ice cream, I was determined to add another notch to my wooden spoon.

  

Marbled Rose Petal Ice Cream 

For the rose petal jam:

2 cups sparkling rosé

1/4 cup superfine sugar

3/4 oz. fragrant rose petals, washed

For the ice cream:

1/2 cup superfine sugar

8 egg yolks

2 cups milk

2 cups heavy cream

I did a quick Google search to make sure I could use the ones growing up the side of the house (quick answer: yes) and went out to pick some. 

They really are so pretty, aren't they? As I separated the petals and gently ran them under cool water, I forgot that I was wearing a ratty t-shirt and a pair of old yoga pants. Life felt airily glamorous and devil-may-care ("I am bathing rose petals in my sink and soon I shall be cooking with them. Because I am an insouciant bohemian with long hair and velvet sleeves.")

It really is quite a glamorous recipe -- I've never made an ice cream that called for two cups of sparkling rosé before.

             

Per Sophie's directions:

Pour the sparkling rosé and sugar in a saucepan on a low heat. Add the rose petals and keep on stirring until the sugar has dissolved. Using a slotted spoon, remove 3/4 of the rose petals and set aside. Carry on reducing the sugar syrup on a medium heat until thick and syrupy. Allow the mix to cool. 

Here it is, the magical elixir. I'm a rose petal jam lover and this beats every one I've ever had. It's just so surprisingly lemony and fragrant and sweetish-tartish and eye-opening.

(The rose petal jelly)

Per Sophie's directions:

In a separate mixing bowl, cream the sugar and egg yolks until pale in color, and keep to the side. In a saucepan, heat the milk and cream until they reach boiling point. Remove from the stove. Whisking the whole time, temper the egg mixture and bring it up to the same temperature as the cream by adding the milk and cream mixture slowly. Add the remaining rose petals. Before churning, keep to one side to cool and then remove the petals.

Pour the custard into your ice-cream maker with half of the rose petal jam and churn as per the instructions. Take the ice cream out of the machine and swirl the remaining jam roughly through the ice cream to make a marbled pink surface. Place in the freezer to set.

It was delicious. The ice cream was rich and custardy and smooth and was a perfect foil for the tingly thrill of the jam. 

I served it with fresh raspberries, blueberries and blackberries and Gwyneth's vegan chocolate brownies (they taste just as good as regular ones) because it's Los Angeles and when you serve people ice cream with eight egg yolks and two cups of cream in it, you need to balance it out a little.

(Vegan chocolate brownies. From HERE. Or HERE.)

(All photos by Lisa Borgnes Giramonti)

Can I Live Here Please?

One of the things I love most when I travel are the invitations I sometimes get to visit people's homes. On my recent lecture trip to Cincinnati, I was given that opportunity by the lovely and talented Deborah Ginocchio (I wrote about her HERE).

Deborah: I don't know what your schedule is like tomorrow, but if you have any free time, I'd love to have you over.

Me: What the heck YES!

And do you know what it means when I'm invited?

You're invited.

So top up your coffee and let's go.

(Editor's Note: A huge thanks to Deborah for allowing me photograph her rooms sans fluffing or styling. This is real life, gloriously and seductively imperfect.)

* * * * *

First impression: Don't you just love a house that instantly lets you know it welcomes all creatures great and small?

Here's a corner of the eat-in kitchen.

The colors and textures remind me of an Old Master painting. Note the rustic linen towel draped over the wooden school chair, the puddled curtains spilling onto the floor and the antique Jacobean style flame-stitched sofa in the background -- it all makes for a room crackling with warmth and character.

Next to the sink is a pottery bowl filled with time-honored cleaning instruments. The twig-like dishwashing brush is one I happen to own as well (both purchased from Ancient Industries HERE.)

I make a mental note to paint the wooden mullions in my bedroom black. There is an indefinable poetry that comes from gazing at the world through a dark-colored frame. Colors appear more kinetic. The mood intensifies.

My husband has big dreams of someday owning a house with a fireplace in the kitchen. This little hearth is big on style and adds a layer of wit to the gleaming appliances next to it.

Help me. I've wandered into the library and am trying to fight off the compulsion to sink down onto that sofa with a copy of "Moll Flanders." I especially love the rush matting on the floor, don't you? (Pottery Barn sells a similar one HERE.) The easy-going unaffected elegance of everything in this house just kills me. And does the profile on that dog look familiar?

Atop a vibrant chair I spot a Duncan Grant pillow made with fabric purchased from the Charleston House shop (available HERE), former home to the Bloomsbury Group. No wonder I feel so at home.

Every room is brimming with mementos and artifacts of a family life well-lived.

Wit abounds. In a corner, I accidentally interrupt three gentlemen deep in conversation.

An upstairs bedroom is home to a Directoire-inspired resting place, a much-loved collection of vintage textiles and a familiar furry sentinel. And just look at that light. It's ethereal. Vermeer would plotz.

Colorful linens piled on a table offer a glimpse into what dinner parties are like here.

When exploring a house, I always try to find one item that reflects, as nearly as possible, the personality of the home. It's the Miss Marple in me. With this little box, I think my search is over. It's Deborah's style distilled.

Last but not least, four feet times two.