Tonight, around a raggedy old table covered with vintage cloths, beneath the greenish glow of candle-illumined, fresh-grown leaves of the maple tree, I sat with three dear women, two of whom are family. We nibbled and snacked on pickled okra, deviled eggs with capers and fresh dill, warm fennel-scented olives, fresh vegetables with herbed yogurt, fruit with raspberry cream. We sipped our wine from some vintage champagne "coupes" I bought at an antique mall a while back.
There is something especially attractive about the shape and sense of a coupe glass. Angela and I think that Grace Kelly in "High Society" is the perfect spokesmodel for such finery. I remember fondly the lightness of her look as she sipped bubbly and danced into the evening in the arms of Frank Sinatra. It's almost as if the coupe accentuated that slight waist of hers, which is reason enough to drink out of one, I think. I don't get the delicately etched glasses out very often but this night was the perfect occasion. A new turquoise chandelier (thanks, sister!), quiet jazz mingling with the night air, four girls, and strawberry wine.