Tag Archives: Vintage

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The Cooker

Photo by Kambani Ramano on Unsplash

Currently Netflix is playing the foodie film, ” Julie and Julia” about a food blogger who emulated Julia Child, the famous American French chef who changed American cooking and made history.  I dedicate this post to foodies and bloggers everywhere who are driven by curiosity and creativity.

When I moved into my old house, I was fortunate enough that it came with an antique stove. A 1950’s Maytag Dutch Oven model.  It was quite a sight and definitely not in perfect condition, but it worked. The edges were gently worn, but repaired with Porcelain Fix. The light over the stovetop was supposed to come on with a chain pull, but the original bulb(which was still there) had burnt out after 60 years.   There was a deep pot for stewing integrated into the surface, in the left rear position.

 

The stove was white and had an oven with a separate broiler beneath it. Sandwiching the main oven, were two large warmers. There were four burners on the top of the stove. One burner was situated deep within and below the above mentioned cast aluminum pot that was engraved around the edge with the words- REMOVE BEFORE COOKING. There was a timer that didn’t work. My friends and family were skeptical, but I fell in love at first sight.

Quickly,  before I move on, let me explain what is a Dutch Oven?  According to Wikipedia ” A Dutch oven is a thick-walled cooking pot with a tight-fitting lid. Dutch ovens are usually made of seasoned cast iron; however, some Dutch ovens are instead made of cast aluminium, or are ceramic. Some metal varieties are enameled rather than being seasoned.” Wikipedia

I knew that I could make it work and looked forward to creating great meals with it. The first thing I learned about this old stove was that when you heated it up, it got really hot and kept getting hot. The regulator was not functioning and I wasn’t sure until about ten years later where to find a repairman that specialized in antique ovens. There were so many projects with the old house that this was far down the list.

What was right? The flames on the top burners were strong  and the broiler was industrial grade and meant for serious grilling.  The broiler would brown and extract exquisite flavors fast.  So, I set about cooking with the stove and it was a project, but the food always came out fantastic and delish according to my guests. It was also a great heater in the winter. The heat from the stove would toast not only food, but humans too, making the house cozy and welcoming during cool So Cal winters.

Photo by MD Duran on Unsplash

Antique stoves are beautiful in appearance.  The designs speak of an era that has passed. There are round edges, beautiful lettering explaining simple features and sometimes whimsical small coves strategically placed for reheating and storing.  O’Keefe and Merritt, the royalty of cookers, was famous for those miniature alcoves of heat and created designs that brought forth images of English cottages, baking and creating homemade breads, puddings and pastries.  These tiny spaces were meant not only for embellishment,  but creating complex dishes that required multiple compartments for warming and various functions.

Old stoves are quirky, they appear charming and in my opinion are fun to use.   This Thanksgiving I made a sinfully delicious and decadent  hot chocolate pudding cake.   The cake came out beautifully-hot, sweet and unbelievably satisfying. So here’s to old stoves and second chances.

 

Photo by Taylor Kiser on Unsplashh 

So for those of you who are reading this and are now thinking of hot, sweet,  melted chocolate embedded in cake that melts in your mouth, I invite you to try the recipe. For your pleasure, I’ve posted the link below for easy access:

https://www.hersheys.com/kitchens/en_us/recipes/hot-fudge-pudding-cake.html

Bon Appetit!

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The Flea

Headed out to the Rose Bowl Flea last weekend. It was a glorious Southern California Winter day. The Air was crisp and cool and the sun shone clear through blue skies. Fluffy white clouds floated overhead and drifted on the light breezes. The drive was uneventful with just about three slow and goes on the interstate, but the drive was worth it. I arrived on Seco Street and pulled into the line that led to parking. Once the line moved and I was positioned to enter parking, I was able to cut across the green expanse of lawn and find a great space fairly close to the entrance. The grass was soggy from the past weeks of bountiful rain and mud oozed through where heavy cars and trucks had pulled in and down the rows to find the best parking. The Rose Bowl; designed by the great architect Myron Hunt and completed in 1922, rose above the tents and flags. A white coliseum for modern gladiators. A huge neon rose embelished the cement facade. It’s proportions were perfect and graceful and the building was set out at the base of the canyon in the center of nature. Those architects of the newly settled California had loved nature and sought to place their creations within the center of it.

I got my umbrella for shade and my bag for any goodies I might find and marched up to buy my ticket. The venue was filled with people out for an exciting and fun day filled with anticipation. People were out to explore and to look for vintage treasure and funky clothes that you could only find at a Los Angeles flea market. Just watching my fellow human kind was entertainment enough. We humans came in so many shapes and sizes, personalities and characters. People were dressed in all kinds of gear. A couple; impossibly thin and chic ambled by dressed to the tee in Rockabilly style. Their outfits consisted of matching rolled Levis, studded belts and immaculate western shirts. There were gorgeous women who looked like they had just hiked out Laurel Canyon. Their skin pale and untanned, long flowing tresses with the perfect California beach wave, they walked slowly and floated in their patterned skirts and peasant tops. A seven foot cellist in black combat boots with four inch platforms and a kilt had stationed himself in front of the bowl. He serenaded the crowds with futuristic and dramatic compositions that echoed through the canyon walls.

I wandered around, the sun beating against my parasol, the heat settling into my shoulders. Vintage was everywhere and it was more than enough to make for at least two full days of shopping. Thousands of items, each with it’s own unique history and so many stories to tell. The fact that it was so much, created the atmosphere of treasure hunt that could be relished and allowed to slowly unfold. It was a perfect day in nature, a perfect day for relaxing and letting history emerge and entertain.

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Salvage

Photo by Nathan Anderson on Unsplash




I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to attend the Redlands Historical Glass Museum auction some weeks ago. I wandered through the coolness of the host’s dark, ancient house. The air was calm, but gently stirred by the other guests attending the function.  We all moved quietly and carefully, navigating spaces between ancient furnishings, books and each other.  Long tables were set out with small delicate glass dishes that sparkled and caught the faint rays of light permeating the room. Beautiful antique furniture, carved carefully and with love, stood sturdily and elegantly in their places.  The dark wood glowing and emanating a warm and earthy smell with hints of oil and polish.  The walls reached upward toward lofty ceilings coated with glossy dark paint, the color of an overripe strawberry.  I gazed upward at the vaulted ceilings coated with ancient plaster. Small rivulets of cracks twisted indiscriminately across the palette of plaster. I knew the air was cooler up there, because I could feel it circling softly around my head.  Burnished mirrors hung strategically around the room to reflect  light that managed to make a path into the dim room. This was salvage.  Preservation.

When I moved into my old house over a decade ago, I was entranced by the thought of waking up everyday surrounded by old wood, wavy glass, carved molding and soft wood floors. The essence of many lives lived, were within the walls and permeated the old structure.  The home had been well cared for and loved and that’s why she stood so solid and still as the decades past.  Her joints and fittings holding strong and true.  Her foundation rising  rock solid from the old farming dirt she stood upon.  She had been cared for well.  This was preservation.

Part of preservation is salvaging.  It’s hard to find new parts for old houses of the same quality from hundreds of years ago.    If you get into the process, it’s important to connect with resources and delve into it.  Preservationists are a unique breed.  They usually love history and everything left that’s still tangible and connected with it.  Every part is valuable, even old nails, fittings and broken tile.  You never know where that odd piece might fit.  To connect with another likeminded salvager is a joy. To know another person that understands the joy of finding that perfect piece or working on something until it becomes just what you need to complete a project.   Salvagers often pass pieces back and forth just for the joy of sharing a find or finding it a safe home.

It’s not easy work.  Old house parts are musty, dirty and old chemicals often cling to the pieces.  The parts of an old house are put together so well that it’s difficult to wrench pieces free.  Besides using brute strength, you have to use grace and coordination to make sure you twist and pull just so, or the piece maybe fatally deranged beyond repair. You must pry and  tap with just the right amount of pressure as not to leave marks in  old wood grain or on old metal pieces. Why do it?  Why expose yourself to hot old houses caked in grime and toxic chemicals from the past?  Because beneath it all lies the treasure and a legacy.  A legacy of craftsmanship that stemmed from people being proud of their trade and working hard in every sense of the word. Craftsman, who worked with their hands and crude tools to create beautiful and incomparable pieces of a caliber that is little seen today.




Among my travels perusing the various local events that offered to lovers of history  I ended up at the Peter Weber House in Riverside the other day. I had some vintage light fixtures I’d found abandoned in my alley and thought they may come of use to  a local restorer. The Old Riverside Foundation manages the salvage program there;  they  have a great collection of salvage and I needed a front door too.  The Weber house is a work of art and a fine example of old world craftsmanship.  Weber, a local architect; who built his home from scratch in the 1930’s, created artful patterns using brick and carved wood.  Every inch of the house, from floor to ceiling has a creative flair. Many of the designs are Moorish in origin and inspired by his travels abroad.  He brought back a treasure trove of design inspiration which he incorporated into his home. Stars carved into wooden panels,  painted turquoise, coral and green, punctuated the panels in strategic locations.   It’s a tiny home, but completely magical in form. As I walked through the home, inspiration hit me and I tried to picture myself carving intricate wood paneling and placing brick in unique patterns to build my walls. Luckily, I had the morning free to daydream and take my time walking through the home.    On the way out, I picked up a really cool bumper sticker for a dollar to help save the Riverside Chinatown archaeological site.  This was a perfect morning to me, this was preservation.