Patterns of Life
- Jayne Lisbeth
- 3 minutes ago
- 5 min read
I love dishes. My overflowing cupboards and hutches bear witness to my obsession. They groan under the weight of their comrades. I imagine they are saying, “Can she even think of piling another dish in here?” It is a fruitless debate. There is always room for one more dish, bowl, cup or saucer.
Where did my dish fixation come from? Immediately a vision comes to mind. My mother’s beautiful Wedgewood China, Lichfield pattern, set on our polished mahogany table over a pink embossed linen tablecloth with matching napkins. At each place setting a delicate gift of porcelain was presented next to the Mexican silver flatware. I was seven, and fascinated with the time my mother spent creating her works of art. That was in 1956 when my childhood was perfect and Wedgewood China was a painting on which to serve special meals to beloved family and friends. Today, this Wedgewood is my best China, reserved for the most memorable occasions.
When we moved to New Jersey my mother discovered Stangl ware. The ‘Garden State’ was an entirely new life, home, friends and patterns. Stangl dishes are different from the china and porcelain we had previously known. They are playful, pretty and as elegant as Wedgewood in a country-sort of way. These heavy homespun style dishes, with their brown bottoms and highly glazed surfaces, are portraits in flowers and fruit. I love to serve ‘country meals’ of pot roast or roasted chicken on my inherited Stangl ware. Over the years I have discovered these special dishes from New Jersey to antique shops in Sutter Creek, California to thrift stores in Windsor, Vermont
to garage sales in Tampa.
We chefs love to cook. We relish our dinner parties, the preparation of the menu, the cooking, shopping and each special table setting. We place each napkin, piece of silver and China on our tables with equal amounts of care and pride. Each setting is a gift to our guests, a tribute to friendship, family, and fellowship. It is a representation of hours spent in the kitchen preparing a meal and creating welcoming beauty on our tables. We are saying, "I’m glad you’re here to break bread with us. I am serving you with love and parts of my life and history. Welcome to my home. Enjoy."
Either fortunately or fatefully, I fell in love with a man who also loves all manner of porcelain, glass and dishes. We are fellow addicts, co-dependents. We support, uplift and connive with one another for one more garage sale, one more treasure to add to our overpopulated cupboards.
As Tim and I age we attempt ‘downsizing.’ We admit, we are finally, absolutely out of space. I have been successful in giving away some China. Tim’s mom’s beautiful bright red Poppycock dishes went to Greg and Cassie for their new home. As though they are adoptee parents I check in on my babies when we visit, “Do you still have the Poppycocks? Have you broken or chipped any?” I ask nervously. They roll their eyes, “Yes, Jayne, we still have them,” Greg says, as he shows me the Poppycocks lovingly tucked into their kitchen cupboard. Dishes are as hard to let go of as fledging kids. I want to stay connected, no matter where they have traveled.
My friends also began downsizing. My Vermont friend, Bonnie, gave me her complete set of Chinese Blue Willow dishes. Bonnie graced my life with her humor, wit and wisdom. She and I shared a love of books and reading. Appropriately, a Chinese legend is part of each Blue Willow plate. The pattern is one of doomed lovers, forbidden to be together by the young woman’s domineering father. The couple escape by transforming themselves into Turtle Doves. With outstretched wings they swoop into the sky. They are safe forever, soaring into the heavens to their cottage on a lake, where they live happily ever after. Their love story is told through the ages on each Blue Willow dish.
As I set each specially decorated table my friend Fran’s voice echoes in my ears: “Darlin’, the eyes eat first” Remembering her words I decorate my table to captivate our guests. With care, I choose a set of dishes from the array of patterns in my hutches and cupboards. I place my pink Rose Chintz pattern dishes on my cutwork placemats and napkins, purchased in San Francisco’s Chinatown in 1982. Carefully, I fold the napkins and place each one in the carved wooden animal napkin holders I cherish, a gift from my Vermont sister. I arrange tiny bouquets of flowers in miniature vases and doll’s tea set cups. In 1969 I learned this special touch from the Woodbine Cottage, my favorite restaurant on the shores of Lake Sunapee, New Hampshire.
With great satisfaction I view my completed tablescapes. My history of shared meals, stories, places and traditions connects me to each place setting. These are not just dishes. They are memoirs painted on glazed, colorful patterns of birds, flowers, fruit and cottages.
My Vermont sister Sharon has a beautiful autumn table runner she offsets with fall foliage, miniature pumpkins and ornaments. She recently confessed her special love of this table runner, which her now 104-year-old mother gave her years ago. “What makes this so special is that I know it’s the last gift I will most likely ever receive from my mother.” I understood her meaning. Due to her mom’s age, she can no longer shop for beautiful gifts, making this table runner so cherished.
When I mentioned this Food for Thought I was writing, my friend and fellow writer, Cathy, recommended a story by the author Amelia Forczak of Pithy Wordsmithing. “Why I eat scrambled eggs on fine China on a Tuesday morning.”
As Amelia’s story unfolds the reader discovers that her mother’s friend, Connie, is dying of cancer. Amelia, a soon-to-be bride, bought Connie’s China to help offset her medical bills. Connie admitted to Amelia that in 40 years she had only used her beautiful China once. Amelia’s first Thanksgiving was a success. She had a lot to be thankful for. Her mother had survived cancer. Connie had provided the lovely set of China for hosting Amelia's first Thanksgiving. The author writes, “In a way, China had become a symbol of all the things in life you put off enjoying because you think you’ll have plenty of time later.” That is why she serves breakfast of scrambled eggs on her best China, on an ordinary Tuesday morning.
This holiday season I will set my table with my mother’s Wedgewood Lichfield patterned China and her heavy Mexican silver. I will use the placemats I made in Sacramento, stealing moments from my mothering duties to cut and hem calico to create my holiday tribute. Every time I use my Christmas calico placemats and napkins I am reminded of how I fit my creativity into tiny pockets of stolen time.
I will cook all my family of friends' favorite dishes. My guests will glow in the candlelight, weaving the traditions of time, past and future through patterns on porcelain. I will admire the journey my dishes and I have traveled together, from New York, New Jersey, Vermont, Massachusetts, California and finally to Tampa. My patterns are the touchstones to my past, reflecting my history, memories and family traditions. They are the patterns of life I have brought with me from other years, homes and lives.
I wish you all a happy holiday season, filled with love, history, tradition and fellowship. Use your best China, every day, not just on holidays. Serve those you love. The memories matter as much as the patterns on each piece of China. Bon Appetit!
