Until a couple weeks ago
I’d never really thought about
the colour of clay before it’s turned to dishes.
It hadn’t struck me
that it might start as a solid soft grey.
And that once formed
and set to dry,
it’s colour would change each day.
Slowly, from one shade of grey to the next.
I think I’d imagined
would start out white.
So, when we found ourselves
at the studio of Atelier Make,
the potters behind a number of our pieces and our good friends,
and they told us that
while some clays do arrive white,
the specific types they use to produce our pieces
remain grey until their first firing,
I was a little amazed.
I’d known that potters’ studios
were handsome places.
I’d imagined the process of making things
from clay would be beautiful thing.
But after spending time in one
I like them even more.
There’s a fine dust that settles
over most things there.
Tiny bits of clay that dull almost every surface.
It takes the sheen from things
and leaves something of an enchanted calm.
photos: michael graydon + nikole herriott
HG juicers, clouds and totes will be back in stock soon + we’re updating this monday
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this apron in natural
this photo from IG
i can’t stop thinking about this cake
this egg, yes please
montreal notes: the bagels and the pistacho loaf here
I was surprised when I first arrived in Puglia.
I’d taken the train there,
a near full day whizzing past
small towns, long fields
and the Adriatic Sea.
Eight or so hours of inspiration from my seat.
But still, I hadn’t expected the south to look that way.
I hadn’t dreamt of the stark whites
and beautiful creams.
Nor, the light sandy beige.
I hadn’t considered
that a short moss might grow
beneath the olive trees.
I hadn’t expected
the flat, pale, beauty of it all.
The lack of rolling hills
and terracota soil.
I don’t know what it was I’d expected.
It’s almost as though I hadn’t dreamt big enough.
I’d heard how wonderful the food was.
How different the tomatoes taste,
and how fresh the cheese.
But I wasn’t prepared for
backyards of oranges,
roadsides of arugula
or gardens tucked amidst olive groves.
I hadn’t thought of the seafood.
Somehow I’d kinda forgotten
just how extraordinary travel can be.
PS: find a little more from our trip, here.
Photos: Michael Graydon
because sleepy lambs are the cutest lambs
because today is the first day of spring,
and because that makes things feel different somehow.
like there’s change on the horizon,
like something good is about to happen
like something great is just around the corner
and i like that.
and isn’t this lamb the cutest ever?
i just wanted to pick her up and bring her home.
i even momentarily convinced myself that
maybe it would be okay to have a lamb as a pet.
that’s all for now.
hope your day is grand!
this makes me miss trips to mexico
a dark grey pleated skirt
a two zip wallet in jewel orange
a pile of crocks
this is beautiful
creams and whites and a little book (via)
i thought these were cute
and the photo is by michael graydon on a recent trip we took to vancouver island
a quick hello
some photos from the farm
and a note that we’ve updated over at HG
happy weekend, friends
hope it’s swell!
whoa, march already, that was fast.
i feel kind of like i’m still getting my footing sorted for february.
no matter, i saw that snowy month out with a little bang!
i packed a bag and i boarded a train.
and i spent the weekend
away from home.
i laughed with friends and i joked with strangers.
and i had those kinds of moments,
the ones when your tummy hurts
you’ve laughed so much.
and when you catch yourself smiling at nothing at all.
i walked down streets new to me,
i spoke a language i don’t quite know,
i cheered for canada from the seat of a train.
i met a man whose presence pleased.
his frame slight, his hair grey,
his kindness obvious.
he had a glint in his eyes and work on his hands.
i heard tradition in his voice
and saw history in his story.
i wondered if he needed another grandchild.
i thought to myself, i’m so up for the job.
he had a small shop, all perfectly blue.
wooden molds for hats
and brass stands for shoes.
worn wooden chairs and mottled glass cabinets.
things hanging from hooks
and polishes in tins.
newspapers abound and
cafes in short paper cups.
opened in 1938,
his father repaired hats,
and now he the same.
teeming with business then, but slower now.
it keeps him just busy enough, he said.
seventy-two years of craftsmanship
passed from father to son.
it got me to thinking about
how easily things are lost.
of how tradition sometimes falters in the space,
from one generation to the next.
and it got me to thinking about people and their craft.
and of the things we choose to do.
the ways we use our hands,
the ways we use our minds,
the things we choose to buy.
and too, of the people whose stories we choose to listen to.
of the histories we care to remember.
it got me to thinking,
that craftsmanship is so easily lost these days.
and that the division of labour so changed the world.
and that, while we build a small piece of something,
we so easily loose sight of the whole.
it’s no revelation of course.
i’ve a soft spot for people and their craft.
for family businesses and for tradition.
the truth is,
i just think we should listen more to stories.
we should make sure they are, well, less easily pushed aside.
i want to know where my cheese came from.
and i want to know the story of the family that started the farm.
i want to know who made my bread
and i want to know why they made it.
idealistic perhaps, but attainable just the same.
it’s simple really,
i’m keen on a sandwich with meat smoked by hand.
i’m keen on a passion that stands the test of time.
and i’m keen on the story.
i drank beer this weekend, the kind made in small batches.
i ate maple butter this weekend,
the kind made in someone’s backyard.
i tasted smoked meat this weekend,
the kind that is that way, because tradition made it so.
and it all made me happy.
it was really good.
i hope yours was equally so.
happy tuesday all.
i can’t get over this light.
a new subscription, the art of eating.
this photo screams, waiting on summer to me.
moccasins for a friend’s new baby. love.
plus, i’m currently obsessing over meat pies.
do you have a family recipe?
feel like sharing, i’d love to try.
the new recipe download i promised,
it’s just that there’s a surprise involved
and that bit, it’s taking a little longer than expected.
soon though, promise.
happy start to the week.
how are you this fine monday?
it’s rainy and wet here.
but even still,
i think the week
should turn out
a good one.
my weekend was nice.
i walked a lot
i sipped tea,
chatted with friends
and i ate little lemon cakes
made of rice.
i popped in and out of shops
cheese in one had
flowers in the other.
i drank hot cocoa
with peppermint schnapps
and i skated
on round ponds covered in ice.
i thought of a trip i’m planning.
one that will take me
from london to hong kong
with stops in germany
and mongolia and russia too.
and i thought of how i can’t wait
to see st. petersburg
for the very first time.
it got me to thinking
of places i’ve been.
countries i’ve visited,
cities i’ve fallen for.
i’ve reminisced about my
first trip to london.
and how the lovely and quaint,
stole my heart.
i’ve thought of the alleys behind
it all in tokyo.
how they really are
just skinny streets and how
the perfectly japanese places to eat,
are hidden there.
the barbeques and sushi spots
and the hole-in-the-wall neighbourhood places.
i thought about
how i love visiting the tsukji fish market.
my early morning eyes, sleepy.
my excitement, silly and childlike.
my travel companions
tired because i
insist we visit
2 maybe 3 times each trip.
i remembered my first
ride underground there.
my eyes watery
when i recognized that i had
just realized my very first dream.
a feeling indescribable really.
the realization of dreams that is.
amazing and emotional
and extraordinary all wrapped
up in a few short seconds.
i thought about
a favorite breakfast spot in beijing.
one that’s nestled
behind the busy streets.
stuck in the meandering alleys
of a hutong.
pinched between two
old and steady courtyard homes.
i thought of the day
i first slipped my
toes into the south pacific.
i couldn’t believe the warmth.
and i couldn’t believe
that a jelly fish
thought it right to sting me just then.
i thought of the
beautiful blue skies and waters
and how they serve
jerk sausage for breakfast there.
that’s heaven to me.
plates of fruit
cups of coffee
and links of jerk sausage.
i remember the ceiling fans in my room there
bands running from one
to the next, moving just enough
to keep the momentum going.
i thought of the transport
in places away from home.
the scooters in bermuda
the tuktuks in thailand
and the golf carts
on small islands
on the caribbean side of mexico.
i thought of the first time i saw
a turtle in the wild.
he dragged himself
along a sandy beach in hawaii.
dust moving behind him.
and i thought of my excitement
when i saw that they make
ice-cream by hand in mexico.
i walked around this weekend
thinking like this.
it was nice.
it was relaxing and exciting together.
i’ve been fortunate enough to have
been many places in my relatively short time,
i’ll tell you a little more
about them sometime soon.
but for now
i’m dreaming of sunnier days.
ones when your clothes hang on the line.
and ones when the chill from mojitos
cool your summery hands.
i’ll be around this week.
so let’s chat again soon.
and few other things!
a herriott grace update: 2010.01.31: 5pm est.
if you are not on our list
and you would like to be, go here.
there’s a surprise in our midst,
here’s a little hint.
i’m working on
my next recipe download.
and i think you’re really going to like it.
i’m so truly excited to share it with you.
(if you missed my first, it’s here)
+ this recipe looks great.
i’d like new cutlery and either will do: one and two.
and jackson, johnston and roe
plaid shorts for spring.
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