We moved into our 1931 brick Tudor house about a year and a half ago now, and thankfully we didn’t have to do any major structural changes or pricey updates, but the house felt dark and cramped right away. If you’re familiar with Tudor homes, the rooms are traditionally quite small, so have a few friends over and things can quickly start to feel tight. Throw a dog or a baby into the mix and it feels downright tiny at times. It didn’t help that when we moved in, many of the rooms were painted dark shades of maroon and olive green, and the lighting fixtures were dated at best.
After Oliver was born, we had lots of visitors and the dining room is where people would often gather. And for that reason, it was always the space I wanted to work on — I was convinced this small, dark room could feel lighter and more spacious. So a few months ago I reached out to Rejuvenation to see if they were interested in working with me on styling the dining room and entry to make our home feel less dated and more open and welcoming. And it seemed after we were done, there was no better excuse for drinks and snacks.
When we bought our house, our tiny dining room (seats 4! And 1 robust bar!) was painted a very dark maroon and had an old, heavy chandelier. Before we even moved in, I promptly painted the room a soft gray and we hemmed and hawed about what would best replace the chandelier. Because the room is so small, we were tempted to go with a smaller flush-mount fixture to open up the space, but the folks at Rejuvenation encouraged us to try more of a statement piece, and after a few visits to the store and a bit of time online, I found this Linen Tiered Drum Pendant. While it’s certainly not small, the tiered shape and breezy linen shade help to add a focal point to the room without feeling clunky, and the antique brass finish fits in perfectly with the knobs and other fixtures throughout the house.
The dining room table belonged to my mom from her graduate school days in Burlington, Vermont. It’s an antique, and it’s pretty creaky but I love the dark wood and its slim, square shape fits perfectly into our small space. But the room started to feel like … a lot of wood and I wanted to find a rug to soften things up. The problem? Loud, graphic rugs can often make a space feel smaller, but I knew I could find one that had the opposite effect.
After visiting the Rejuvenation store, I fell in love with the Skyline rug and decided to try it out in the space. It has a soft palette that works well with the color of the walls, and really pulls together the room.
Now for something on the walls. In the dining room itself, we have hung some wedding photos (mostly of our friends) in simple brass frames, but we’re both pretty picky about what we want to stare at every day. It’s no small feat to find a clock with a clean, modern profile that you actually want to look at, and the Champagne Beech Clock is just that. It’s functional and beautiful, and such a remarkable upgrade from the retro diner clock we’d hung previously — a relic from my college days in Boulder, Colorado.
But no matter how inviting the dining room was (and how stocked the bar), there’s a limited window of time in which friends want to stand around the dining room table, so inevitably people trickle into the living room (you can see a photo of my friend Jen sitting on our couch, below, flanked by our Modernica ceramic planter and the Bruno Double Arm floor lamp which has proven to be my favorite spot to sit and read after putting Oliver to bed).
A welcoming space is all fine and good for get-togethers, but drinks and snacks are pretty important, too. For this gathering, we had some of our neighborhood friends over (most just walked — a huge bonus of living where we do) and Sam made cocktails. He worked off the cuff mostly, as he likes to do, but created a few that we all fell in love with (one which I’m sharing below). For snacks, I’m a big fan of keeping things simple with relatively little fuss. So I picked up a bunch of different cheeses, castelvetrano olives, seedy crackers, salami, salty almonds, and remember that cherry yogurt cake from last month? That, too. It was substantial enough to serve as a light meal, and after everyone left I wondered why we don’t have cheese, crackers, salami and cake for dinner more often. Noted.
While I initially set up all of the snacks in the dining room, as the evening went on we ended up bringing plates of cheese and crackers into the living room to lounge and catch up. The Holdridge Hook Rack in the entryway helped clear any coat/purse clutter, making sure we had room to spread out a bit. And as is often the case, we end up short on seating in the living room (or any room) so when we have people over, we inevitably end up grabbing some chairs from the kitchen or from my office. I think the mismatched, impromptu nature just makes people ultimately feel more at home.
When everyone was ready to leave, we did a lot of lingering by the front door saying long goodbyes. When we moved in, our entryway had a very standard, basic (and slightly rusty) lighting fixture that we decided to replace with the Cedar and Moss pendant (top left, below). You can adjust the length of these pendants, so we made ours super squatty — I was worried at first that it would feel a little too flashy for our space, but it actually adds an updated freshness and a muted modern sensibility which I love.
I realize up until now I haven’t shared many photos of our house since we moved in, and with the newly-redesigned site, I’m planning on featuring occasional home and gathering posts — giving you a bigger peek into our days — not just isolated shots of food on our table. I know I love to return to websites and blogs where I get a fuller sense for people’s lives, so hopefully – maybe, just maybe – you may feel similarly.
But for now: giveaways + cocktail recipes! Rejuvenation was kind enough to offer a reader of A Sweet Spoonful a chance to win $200 to spend in their store or online! Check out how to enter below.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
All photos in this post were taken by our friend Gabe Rodriguez of Gabriel Boone Photography. From weddings to babies to homes and events — Gabe does it all, and we were lucky to have him step in and make our home look so lovely!
Carpano is a smooth sweet vermouth with somewhat nutty, and almost – almost – chocolatey notes that dance really well with the Chartreuse (An alternative to the Carpano could be Punt e Mes, with a slightly more herbal taste). This helps make this a much more interesting and elegant drink than standard sweet vermouth, though you would still have a worthwhile drink if that’s all you have on hand.
Chartreuse is an elegant little garden of a liqueur, with lemon balm, spearmint, feverfew and quite a few other herbs layered over one another. With the dark elegance of the Carpano providing the drink more of a backbone, the chartreuse is the spirit and soul. The Campari (however you add it) and the orange bitters? That’s a little extra gleam in the eye.
Rinse a coupe glass with Campari (or just a dash, blended with the other ingredients) and pour out (or keep).
You can stir the other ingredients together in ice for 40 seconds, straining this into the coupe, for slightly stronger, less-diluted drink, or shake the ingredients together over ice, vigorously, and you’ll have a beautiful “crema” of sorts on the top of the drink (seen above).
It turns out that returning from a sunny honeymoon to a rather rainy, dark stretch of Seattle fall hasn't been the easiest transition. Sam and I have been struggling a little to find our groove with work projects and even simple routines like cooking meals for one another and getting out of the easy daily ruts that can happen to us all. When we were traveling, we made some new vows to each other -- ways we can keep the fall and winter from feeling a bit gloomy, as tends to happen at a certain point living in the Pacific Northwest (for me, at least): from weekly wine tastings at our neighborhood wine shop to going on more lake walks. And I suppose that's one of the most energizing and invigorating parts about travel, isn't it? The opposite of the daily rut: the constant newness and discovery around every corner. One of my favorite small moments in Italy took place at a cafe in Naples when I accidentally ordered the wrong pastry and, instead, was brought this funny looking cousin of a croissant. We had a wonderfully sunny little table with strong cappuccino, and, disappointed by my lack of ordering prowess, I tried the ugly pastry only to discover my new favorite treat of all time (and the only one I can't pronounce): the sfogliatelle. I couldn't stop talking about this pastry, its thick flaky layers wrapped around a light, citrus-flecked sweet ricotta filling. It was like nothing I'd ever tried -- the perfect marriage of interesting textures and flavors. I became a woman obsessed. I began to see them displayed on every street corner; I researched their origin back at the hotel room, and started to look up recipes for how to recreate them at home. And the reason for the fascination was obviously that they were delicious. But even more: I'm so immersed in the food writing world that I rarely get a chance to discover a dish or a restaurant on my own without hearing tell of it first. And while a long way away from that Italian cafe, I had a similar feeling this week as I scanned the pages of Alice Medrich's new book, Flavor Flours, and baked up a loaf of her beautiful fall pumpkin loaf: Discovery, newness, delight!
I always force myself to wait until after Halloween to start thinking much about holiday pies or, really, future holidays in general. But this year I cheated a bit, tempted heavily by the lure of a warmly-spiced sweet potato pie that I used to make back when I baked pies for a living in the Bay Area (way back when). We seem to always have sweet potatoes around as they're one of Oliver's favorite foods, and when I roast them for his lunch I've been wishing I could turn them into a silky pie instead. So the other day I reserved part of the sweet potatoes for me. For a pie that I've made hundreds of times in the past, this time reimagined with fragrant brown butter, sweetened solely with maple syrup, and baked into a flaky kamut crust. We haven't started talking about the Thanksgiving menu yet this year, but I know one thing for sure: this sweet potato pie will make an appearance.
This time last week I was up in the Skagit River Valley sitting in the early fall sun eating wood-fired bagels and chatting with farmers, millers and bakers at the Kneading Conference West. I made homemade soba noodles, learned the ins and outs of sourdough starters, and sat in on a session where we tasted crackers baked with single varietal wheats. It was like wine tasting, but with wheat and the whole time I kept pinching myself, thinking: THESE ARE MY PEOPLE! I don't get the opportunity to be a student much these days -- usually on the other side of things teaching cooking classes or educating people at the farmers markets about whole grains and natural sugars. So to just sit and listen with a fresh (red!) notebook and a new pen was surprisingly refreshing. I miss it already. Thankfully, this cookie recipe has come back as a memorable souvenir, and one that is sure to be in high rotation in our house in the coming months.
Strolling New York City streets during the height of fall when all the leaves are changing and golden light glints off the brownstone windows. This is what I envisioned when I bought tickets to attend my cousin's September wedding earlier this month: Sam and I would extend the trip for a good day or two so we could experience a little bit of fall in the city. We'd finally eat at Prune and have scones and coffee at Buvette, as we always do. Sam wanted to take me to Russ and Daughters, and we'd try to sneak in a new bakery or ice cream shop for good measure. Well, as some of you likely know, my thinking on the weather was premature. New York City fall had yet to descend and, instead, we ambled around the city in a mix of humidity and rain. When we returned home I found myself excited about the crisp evening air, and the fact that the tree across the street had turned a rusty shade of amber. It was time to do a little baking.
I am writing this on Saturday afternoon on a day when we had big plans to conquer pre-baby chore lists, but Sam's not feeling great and my energy's a little low so it hasn't been quite what we'd envisioned. My goals for the morning were to repot a house plant and make some soup and I've done neither. I will say that the sweet potato and fennel are still sitting on the counter eagerly awaiting their Big Moment -- it just hasn't come about quite yet. Sam and I were both going to attempt to install the carseat, but it started to look really daunting so we abandoned ship; it's now sitting proudly in the basement, also eagerly awaiting its Big Moment. So it's been one of those weekends -- the kind you look back on and wonder what it is you actually accomplished. At the very least, I get the chance to tell you about this hearty cranberry cornbread. I know maybe it feels premature in the season for cranberry recipes, but hang with me here: slathered with a little soft butter and runny honey, there's nothing I'd rather eat right now on the cool, crisp Seattle mornings we've been having lately.