Lunch with Pool Kate in Her Magical House

I know,  it seems like I'm always having lunch with someone named Kate.

This time it was with Pool Kate in her magical living quarters in a former elementary school in Oakland.

I've written about her place before and believe me, it's a real treat to be invited there.  Kate's fun, her place is beautiful, and--don't underestimate this--the setting gives birth to fantasies.  Oh, to live here!  The unencumbered single girl (!) in an urban loft!

Back to earth.  We seven range in age from 66 to 89, and we exercise together at the Richmond Plunge on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  Most of us read the New York Times and  listen to NPR, so there's plenty to talk about while we exercise.  Plays, opera, and museums are favorite topics.  Profanity and ribald songs (I'm thinking of you, Val) don't raise an eyebrow.  Ranting is acceptable.  We also counsel and help each other out.

 Anne, Kate, Val, and Betty in the pool,

 ...which is also historic

Here's a photo of  Edison Elementary School, also built in 1926.  It was converted to condominiums in the late '80s:

Kate lives in the wing behind big tree, formerly the kindergarten room.  It's a stylish, sun-filled space where we all want to live, or at least spend a weekend.   She could make a fortune on Airbnb:

Art balanced on the chalk tray mounted on the former blackboard.

Lunch came from Sweet Adeline Bakeshop  (quiche and cake), the salad from Kate's own hand.

An embroidered napkin

 Dessert was tall, white, and round:

Sponge cake, strawberries, and  Italian meringue buttercream , which was wonderfully light.

Fossil-like tracks left by raspberries and strawberries

Kate cutting the masterpiece

Too soon, it was time to leave. 

...reluctantly.

 Val and Kate saying good-by

Fall is coming!

On Tuesday, we'll be back at the pool:

I love the mural at the far end, added in 2010 when the pool was renovated

Tea Party Extraordinaire

Violet is not a person but a bakery/restaurant in London.  This sign directed Anne R. and me to a wonderful tea party near Pt. Reyes Station this weekend to celebrate the publication of The Violet Bakery Cookbook  by Claire Ptak,  a West Marin native and daughter of my good friend Elisabeth.

Rampant flower artistry all over the Historic Olema Schoolhouse, an event space transformed for the occasion, right down to marigold petals sprinkled in the bathtub of the restroom (didn't get a picture of that).

 

Anne and I arrived during set-up, and soon we were shooed outside so that the pastries and teapots could be arranged on small tables.

 Still setting up

 Beautiful tablecloths:

What vehicle gave up its seats?

We finally staked out a table:

 Because coral.  And the crocheted doily.

 Then we went out on the deck, where there was bubbly and a friendly crowd to talk to.

When we returned to our table, this had been centered on the doily:

 A selection of pastries from the cookbook

A tier-by-tier description:

Savory scones with leeks, ham, and Parmesan

Cupcakes with quince (pink), salted caramel (beige) and chocolate (self-explanatory) frosting.

 Scones and Violet Butterscotch Blondies. The latter are indescribably, wickedly, delicious and you must have one before you check out of this world, I don't care how many calories they are.

Our teapot

Us.  (Yes, pearls.  It was a tea party.)

This woman happened to be one of our table mates.  She was also a career counselor on the Berkeley campus who directed me to the part-time job in Entomology in 1974.  The rest is history.  (What are the chances?)

 Claire was interviewed before this hometown crowd, people who'd grown up with her or watched her grow up.   She started working at the Bovine Bakery in Pt. Reyes Station when she was 15, and after college and a stint as pastry chef at Chez Panisse ended up in London because she married an Englishman.  Now she owns the Violet Bakery in East London and is a food star herself.  Soon she'll be writing a Saturday column in The Guardian.

Local girl makes (ultra) good

Explaining that the rush for sweets and caffeine is from 3-5 pm in England, rather than in the morning, which is when Americans most need reviving.

The book itself:  Reader, I bought it a few weeks ago and read it cover-to-cover.  I may never bake anything in it--although the banana bread is extremely tempting--but I can attest to its merits as an engaging, well-written account of how she became the baker she is,  including the tricks she's learned and shares with an open hand.  Lots of information.  (Barbara Pym talks about women keeping devotional and cookery books next to the bed in case insomnia strikes. Which it did, and this book was the perfect entertaining and relaxing antidote.  Please take that as a high compliment, Claire.)

After the talk, people bought books madly:

   Yes, Alice Waters wrote the foreword

I spent a certain amount of time wondering if the baby girl Claire's expecting in January would a) have her mother's dimples, and b) prove to be another wonderfully artistic baker/stylist, following in the footsteps of her mother and grandmother.

 At a baby shower the next day

Is that bathroom remodel done YET? And how much tiramisu can you eat in 24 hours?

A.  Bathroom remodel is complete, but bathroom looks like a model home before staging: bare.   Hence, the reveal is delayed.  Except for this:

Jerry taped paper over the window for a little privacy.

A. Two large servings and two small within 24 hours of Christmas dinner.   No picture available.

Q.  Why are you showing us a tied-up box of See's candy?
A.  My sister tied it up to prevent me from eating the remaining chocolates so I could offer them to Food Pantry clients on Monday.

Q.  Why is there another picture of a tied-up See's candy box?
A.  Because I cut the knotted-up ribbon and ate two pieces.   See lower right where snip occurred. And below, post-snip:

 Two chocolates missing.

 Q.  Why ANOTHER picture?
 A.  Because I knotted the ribbon again.

 Q.  How many people think I won't eat more chocolates before 1 pm tomorrow?

This Says It All

Yes, I would put this on my windowsill.

Weary, weary, weary of cooking despite a pretty good meatloaf last night.

Pig Roast and a Superlative Garden

First off, I loved the invitation:

So off we went on Saturday, so happy to flee the relentless Berkeley fog.

Not only was there roasted pig, but a raft of pies.  Plus a superlative garden.  (My pictures aren't very good because my camera gets confused when it's intermittently foggy and sunny.)

The pit

 

 The pig

Smartly dressed for a picnic:  my friend Elisabeth

Buffet table with vats of beans, herbed rice, fresh lettuce from the garden, and our hostess (sorry about the poor picture, Camille!)

The non-porta potty, complete with art on the walls

On the drinks table

Before dessert, we toured the huge fenced-against-deer garden,  on the other side of the house:

Many apple trees, fruit just ripening

...and pears

An greenhouse (left) and an office (right), with crops in the foreground

Greenhouse plants outside for a daytime airing

Inside: all manner of onions

A lot of work goes on here

 Mega-peppers

 Chard

 

Love the texture

 Plentiful tomatoes

 Looking toward the house

View from the deck

Pizza oven

 Where people feast

 And then it was time for dessert:

 Hidden, and then:

Ta-da!  Pies!

Interested small parties (the plastic container had pig cupcakes, very popular with this group)

Killer mocha cake

The biggest kid of all.  He went back for seconds, ice cream and all (note drips on sweatshirt)

It was one of those afternoons that feels like a gift from the hosts--really good food and a wonderful setting.  And why is it so heartening (nurturing?) to see a beautifully tended garden?   Still thinking about that.