The Secret Garden

After my idyllic Mother’s Day of inactivity, great food and wine - all enjoyed alfresco on the deck, I was given a lovely Mother’s Day gift, trumping every gilded macaroni cigar box ever. I was led, blindfolded, to my very own herb garden! How could I not have seen this?! Well, it is sort of secluded on the north side of the house and I tend to hang out on the sunny deck. Plus, I’ve been in China, and that’s when Michael and his ace landscaping team of Andrew and Delia put this all into place. Michael knows I’ve been stretching my culinary aspirations, from just admiring everything fresh and artisanal to being actually at the point of wanting to create some of these dazzling dishes. One of the distinguishing features of Napa’s cuisine is the use of the freshest, nearest-grown or sourced ingredients. This philosophy is increasingly popular in California and beyond – to the extent places can grow their own great food. There’ll probably never be a North Dakota artichoke that you’d want to eat, but I can go to Napa Farmers’ Market and choose from several exotic varieties. I love that!

Soon, I’ll be harvesting several types of basil, oregano, rosemary, sorrel, lavender, chervil, French tarragon, sage, lemon thyme and chives. It’s fair to say I’ll be limited to adding these herbs to potatoes and baked chicken until I become adept at more challenging applications. Michael and I joined a wine club that includes recipes with their quarterly shipments, and they have winemaker dinners to showcase the dish. One was a sauce for game hens – just fantastic! I decided to make it myself and quickly became exasperated as it took forevvvvvver! I can’t be the only wannabe dilettante chef with family and work responsibilities! My family and Red House must come first. And, after all, in NY, Michael and I lived on takeout before and after we were married, so it’s going to take some time, literally and figuratively, to channel my inner-chef. Here’s what I’m not going to do - follow the approach of a T.V. cooking show host whose initials are R.R. and buy a pre-sliced onion at the store. Not me! Somewhere between the 5-Can Casserole I grew up with and the 28-ingredient game hen sauce that threw me for a loop is where I’ll end up. I’ll let you know where (the spirit) takes me.

The Brunch-Free Mother’s Day

I know there are many moms out there who look forward to spending their Mother’s Day in the vicinity of a buffet table, oohing and ahhing over the display of smoked trout and the ice sculptures and the vast array of colorful treats at the dessert table. Then there are the moms (and I know several of these at Andrew’s Montessori preschool) who enjoy a breakfast prepared entirely by children. They smile right through the crunchy bits in the waffle (is that baking soda?!) and strawberries dipped in what has to be melted “chocolate” crayon… I ate one of those – once.

Now, heavily influenced by the Napa lifestyle, I am more…relaxed. I don’t want to get dressed up just to have a mimosa on “my special day”. What makes it special is not having to do anything for most of the day. And that means not having to clean up the well-intentioned messes of loved ones.

Here’s how it went this year, my recipe for perfection: all day on the deck chair with the two books I’m reading: The Four Hour Workweek, by Timothy Ferriss. (A girl can dream, can’t she?!) And Mitten Strings for God: Reflections for Mothers in a Hurry by Katrina Kenison. (A sweet find at an SFX newsstand.) Both books are about finding balance in busy lives. Isn’t that appropriate for reflection on Mother’s Day? Michael brought me his own mimosa creation made with Cara Cara orange, grapefruit and Gloria Ferrer Sonoma Brut. He then took Delia and Andrew to The Model Bakery in St. Helena. (Look and drool!: themodelbakery.com.) They returned with my favorite Pain au Chocolat and raspberry croissants. And there I sat, with my handmade cards, my little vase of flowers/weeds, wonderful coffee and more mimosas. For fine dining, there was la Frittata Michael. This masterpiece of egg, shrimp, crab, spinach, artichoke, onions, hand-foraged mushrooms and Gruyere is reason enough to have married him. His coup de grace is topping it off with amazingly fresh salsa from the Napa Farmer’s Market. One of the joys of Napa and the rest of bountiful California, for that matter, is the influence of Mexican cooking on our fusions of Asian, French and Italian culinary traditions. Peppers find their way into just about everything and the kids are always happy with leftovers if they are wrapped in a tortilla. This is not how we ate in New York! And I didn’t need to leave my deck chair to dine this Mother’s Day. Plate on lap, I watched bees buzzing around the lavender in the garden. Let them work!

Later, I called the moms and made sure they got their packages of Red House goodies. I learned my lesson about getting them the same pashmina in the same color, so this time my mom received the Red House Fine Gauge Silk Sweater (RH16) in black, and Michael’s got the Red House Cashmere Cardigan (RH17) in pink. Both also received gifts of fine art: grandchild-painted canvas tote bags of their favorite flowers – Tea Rose for Michael’s mom and Calla Lily for mine. (This was Michael’s wonderful idea – xoxox!!!)

I hope all mothers had as nice a day!

Fashion Death in The Afternoon!

The latest from Red House – but first, The Natalie News: My niece has come up with a new internship. Paid this time. (Hey, Red House is a young business, and our ex-intern still gets room and board.) Nat will be helping out at the boutique winery owned by Stefan’s parents, which is to say she’ll be mopping the tasting room, washing glasses and hosing out tanks. I think she’d do anything to spend more time with her boyfriend, who, it turns out, is still in high school (!) His grades have been suffering, as “he’s had to work too much.” I can think of other reasons (the Nat Factor!) that may have had an impact his grades, but his parents have the classic European attitude towards young male exuberance - very laissez faire. And after all, they gave him the motorcycle. Anyway, Nat will work mornings and afternoons. All day she can look forward to seeing Stefan when he gets home from school. That just might be incentive enough for her to show up. And although she didn’t come right out and say it, Kerin couldn’t be happier to have the Red House office devoid of drama and cigarette butts. Can’t say that I blame her.

That reminds me, I need to ask Kerin to return some zippers for the Red House Men’s Silk Twill Jacket (RH28). Would you believe our supplier sent 12” long zippers! Of course, they’d be fine if we were going to offer a cropped style, or maybe something in silk satin for a matador or jockey look, but I don’t think so - our signature style is a bit less radical. It was a customer who suggested the Red House Men’s Bolero, but I think she (and the general public!) would complain vociferously if they actually encountered men in mini jackets as the guys would probably skip the shirt during the summer, altering the trend but exposing midsections on the golf course and at winery picnics. (I’m trying not to picture this!) Maybe though, with an oversize version of the Red House Polo (RH04) underneath, we’d have something - no? No! My vision for Red House will continue to reflect the relaxed elegance of the wine country lifestyle rather than pioneering dynamic new traditions in menswear. And fortunately, problems like the mini-zipper don’t happen every day. They do keep me on my toes, though. And my clients keep me laughing.

Maddie’s antidote to it all

What do you do when every bone in your body aches from a 5913-mile plane ride and you’re sure you’re going to be a victim of blood clots, unless the monkey meat you’ve eaten kills you first? Go to the spa! And that’s just what I did today. A little re-charging thanks to my favorite Fairmont Sonoma Mission Inn Spa. (Check it out: www.fairmont.com/sonoma/Recreation/SPA.)

A spa day is great for no reason at all but today I had my reasons, the 3 R’s of Recovery, Renewal and Relaxation. And what better way to start than a refreshing cocktail out by the pool? I saw another en-robed guest enjoying a mojito and I said, “I’ll have what she’s having.” One sip put me in a state of deep disappointment: I was having a cleansing detox drink of wheat grass and blue algae. I suppose this is the right elixir for a weary traveler who has eaten highly questionable cuisine in a communist country, but still! The drink wasn’t bad, but it would have been a lot better with some rum. The spa prohibits such poisons, as they are contrary to the whole purpose of “spa”. I get it, but this is wine country, so I at least ought be able to get a glass of THAT and enjoy the health benefits.

What’s so great about this particular spa is the legendary Roman Baths. Or maybe they’re Greek. The place really looks like something Indiana Jones might uncover, minus the dust and snakes. Once you get into your swimsuit (it is co-ed, folks!) you are handed a laminated bathing ritual card telling you what to do and in what order. Do the wet sauna, then you rest, then dry sauna, exfoliating shower, rest some more, cool off shower, colder shower, rinse, rest again, etc. Forget all that! Here’s the good stuff: the thermal mineral baths. They are fed by their own source, the Boyes Hot Springs right beneath the resort. There are two temperatures to choose from. The tepid one does nothing for me, so I soaked in a sea of nearly hot mineral-rich water for about an hour. Then I went for my treatment. I chose the Chardonnay Olive Oil Sugar Scrub, thinking a glass of wine must be a part of that. Again, my hopes were dashed but my skin felt radiant (or maybe just raw.)

Afterwards, I headed over to the spa pool for a few hours of “reflection”, i.e. reclining and reading. My feet were oiled up so much my spa slippers were flying across the deck! I was pretty relaxed after my massage and it was hard to find the strength to hold up my book, and I was hardly sustained by a meager spa lunch of a watercress and papaya sandwich served with another anti-mojito. Still, I loved not hearing the phone or anyone yelling, “Maddie!” Yeah, I could get used to that…

Though my visit was to enhance harmony and affirm chakra balance, and all the other spa-isms bandied about, I also started formulating a plan to introduce a line of Red House spa-wear for staff and guests alike. And it became clear I’d need to spent a lot of time at this and other spas to do “research” on what to offer in my future line (!!) Next time here, I’ll sign up for some of the other offerings, like yoga, and even a tarot card reading - to find out what’s ahead for Red House, of course. And I’ll remember to sneak a thermos in too.

Monkey on the menu!

I am typing from 32,000 feet on Cathay Airlines. No Napa wines here, but I had a decent New Zealand pinot with my rather unexotic eggs, rice and toast. Let me tell you about my dinner in Beijing.

The dinner banquet that followed my day at the factory was not a typical Chinese approach blending old and new. None of the pan-Asian California fusion I’ve come to love a whole lot. We’re taking tradition, and this scared me. Of course I’d been to China before, which made the dinner that much more frightening. I knew there would be at least eight courses and that I’d be able to identify a food item in maybe one of them. This is a good thing as it’s sometimes better not to know. I dreaded dinner. I also knew it would be impolite to refuse at least a small bite of monkey meat if that was what was served. I was fixated on the possibility. Monkey on a bed of rice? Monkey brain ceviche? That, and the potential for inclusion of various insects, beaks, feet, snakes and…dogs (!!) Such tales (no pun intended) comprise the horrific lore of business travelers to China. And how stupid must we look, choking down mystery bits? Are they laughing back in the kitchen? Silly American intractability?! I am reminded of a commonly used family cookbook in our household, One Bite Won’t Kill You. And I do hope that it won’t.

The banquet was both sumptuous and mysterious. Thankfully, they served several wines from Napa in my honor. I drank as much as I dared, in hopes that the medicinal properties would kick in if needed. I was actually hungry, which also helped. And I can’t say anything tasted bad, dangerous or truly deadly. Unusual comes to mind… I choose to believe that what tasted like roast duck may well have been roast duck. But if monkey was served, so be it, the adventure brings me closer to knowing the Chinese. And in fact, I stayed a second day. Not to work, nor to dine adventurously, but to see the Chinese Art Museum. So much of what I saw there would not have been permitted a few years ago. The rain had cleared too. This city was no less urban, but instead of choking dust and pollution I saw the promise of greater things for this country. My first trip to Beijing ten years ago stands in sharp contrast – everyone in dark Mao suits and baggy pants. No more! Color is what has changed the most. Red signifies happiness in China and on this trip I saw a lot of red. And speaking of happiness, I’m just about two hours from returning to RED House!

Factory Girl

Ugh. Here I am. Disoriented. Should I sleep or type? Drink tea or wine? (I am alternating to see which has the most effect on my mood.) Wait - no more wine! I just got a call telling me the car from the factory is coming in 40 minutes. How is that possible? Seems like I got to my room from the Beijing airport just a few hours ago. But the clock says it’s been eight! I’ve been listening to pneumatic drills and jackhammers because I thought I might sleep through my appointment if I used my earplugs. And will I be able to tell the silk from the worms? Silk is in bolts. Hope I remember that. I’ll finish this later.

Ok. I am now writing before dinner though I feel like it’s some point during the night (??):

The driver was just insane. Must have learned from Natalie. He had awesome reflexes though, as he maneuvered the crowded streets deftly. There are still more bikes than cars in the city and amazingly, he hit not one of them. My adrenalin was more effective than caffeine today - I felt almost energized! Oh, and weather added to the fun - rain was coming down in sheets and the city still managed to look dusty. Everything appeared to be “construction gray”, a shade I will not be introducing at Red House. It’s hard to believe they’ll be ready for the Olympics in three months, but the same was said about Athens and that worked out. So why am I here? Earlier today I needed to remind myself as I met with a silk factory representative to inspect quality and color of that most coveted luxury fiber for Red House’s new collection.

The factory, like the rest of Beijing, is a very busy place. The pace feels about as far from Napa as I could get – even more frenzied than NYC. Mr. Han was my contact. His English is about as limited as my Mandarin so we were joined by an interpreter. The silk was lovely. I looked at strength, softness and dye lot and liked what I saw. Mr. Han is proud of their attention to detail and told me about techniques they use in the factory. They are working on a stain-resistant silk. He wouldn’t give me any details but I told him that Red House would be very interested in seeing that. (Wow – take note, red wine drinkers of the world!) Like most of what I’ve discovered in China, the way things are done is a marriage of old and new. And it works.

Got to get ready for my business banquet, which is also known as truly dreaded dining for a palate resistant to culinary intrigue of the international variety. Pray for me! If I survive, you’ll hear about it later.

Beijing Bound

Got to pack, but first off - The Natalie News. Apparently the orange jumpsuit brigade of the CDC Silverado Trail clean up detail was a success, the highway looks great. Nat said that they found some interesting discards, including a half-smoked cigar (Cuban!), some rental car keys and a woman’s sunhat. I’ve lost one of those myself – a drawback of wine touring in a convertible on a gusty day. Asked if the experience of community service had an effect on her outlook, Natalie said that it had. Picking up trash wasn’t fun, especially the disdainful looks from passersby. She did, however, learn from a fellow crewmember of the best place to get a tattoo in San Francisco. So it’s come to this. Well, she came west with the piercings and it was only a matter of time until she started thinking ink. Meanwhile (and to Kerin’s dismay) she’s back in the office helping out as we can stand it (!) She’s researching thread colors for me and making coffee. So far, so good.

I’m off to China to source some silk. You might think I’m really looking forward to it: Forbidden City, Tiananmen Square, cruise down the Yangtze River. Actually, no. It’s a long trip, a short meeting and then a long trip back. And then it’ll take me a week to recover enough to be an effective wife, mother and clothing executive. That’s assuming I don’t get sick. Others in the business (who are not as hands-on as this Red House exec) are avoiding Beijing right now as the city is going full-bore on construction for the Olympics. It’s a loud city anyway, and the traffic horrendous, so I can only imagine what it will be like in hyperdrive. Besides that, I just want to stay home – especially now that home is Napa. When I was younger, I always approached these trips with excitement. Maybe it was relief getting out of NY. Or maybe I was just younger and less encumbered. Now I’ve got to worry that Michael will be burdened with any Red House client issues that might come up, plus running a household with two small children and one errant niece. I shouldn’t complain, but I DON’T WANT TO GO!