Champagne (and everything else) Coupe

File this under "good things come to the enthusiastic and straightfoward," a motto that has almost always led to positive results in my life.  I was visiting my family in Massachusetts a few months ago and, while having dinner at my mom's friend's house, and poking around intrusively (like you do), I came across these lovely champagne coupes.  I immediately went into (rather prolonged) raptures over them, because a) I am in LOVE with champagne coupes and b) I am a little bit nuts.  I just think that champagne coupes are the most delightful beverage holder out there.  They're delicate, they feel classy in your hand, and they require lots of refills throughout an evening, which I find combines the joy of many refills with the usually incompatible joy of not drinking to excess.  These particular coupes caught my eye because I could tell that they were older, probably from the 30's or 40's just based on their design, and because they were so light and ladylike.

I can't claim to be an expert on coupes.  They came onto my radar screen about a year ago and I have been looking for the perfect ones ever since, but I didn't spend a lot of time trying to learn about them.  I mentally associated them with the 20's and 30's, which was enough to pique my interest, and then I moved on.  In another installment of a new segment I'm calling "This Blog is not Fact-Checked" I perused the Wikipedia entry on champagne glasses and learned the following.  Apparently the champagne coupe was a post-prohibition invention which may or may not have been a symbol of excess and free-flowing liquor.  It was popular from the 30's through the 60's, but its popularity waned as champagne became drier and bubblier because the wide mouth released the bubbles so much faster.  Fun "fact" - the champagne at the time was sweeter and less assertively bubbly, which I actually think I would like more.  Next project: find some old fashioned champagne to sip out of my old fashioned glasses. 

Back to the story, my mom's friend, Sherri, told me that she had inherited the glasses from her mother, but almost never used them and didn't want to move with them into her new house.  She asked me if I wanted them and I said, "Of course!!"  Later, the New England part of me worried that I had been too forward, and I decided to write her a letter telling her that I really did love them and would pay for the shipping if she seriously wanted to get rid of them, but I understood if she had changed her mind.  Before I even had time to finish procrastinating writing the letter, the glasses arrived on my doorstep!  They are so lovely and feel wonderful to drink from.  I have already had a group of friends over to drink champagne from them, and I also find that they are perfect for dessert wines and small cocktails.  As I type, I'm drinking a small glass of chilled port from one of my coupes. 

Honestly, though, my favorite thing about the coupes is that they have a lineage.  It's so much more wonderful drinking champagne out of Sherri's mother's coupes than out of some perfectly nice coupes I bought on eBay.  For that, as well as for the gift itself, I am profoundly grateful.  Life is fucking crazy, isn't it?

Anadama Bread

Anadama bread is a family favorite, and something I ate from time to time as a kid, although no one in my family ever made it.  Usually we bought it at the local farmstand - it's one of those older New England recipes that some people's grandparents know how to make but that isn't frequently sold in bakeries or the supermarket.  As far as I know, no company is mass producing it.  In fact, based on my unscientific wikipedia research, the bread originated in and was never widely eaten outside Cape Ann, Massachusetts, the part of the country where I was lucky enough to grow up.  My dad used to go into raptures about Anandama bread, and I didn't always understand it in the past, because a lot of the loaves he brought home were bland or dry. 

Now I understand why my dad loves this bread so much.  This is a bread that should always be eaten fresh, and should never be mass produced.  The mixture of cornmeal and molasses is strong and faintly sweet and keeps the bread perfectly moist for about three days.  The flavor and texture of the bread are earthy and really simple and just plain delicious.  Eaten warm with a bit of salted butter, this bread makes me feel like I'm living on a farm.  That said, I can't imagine that this bread could ever stand up to shipping, although I have a loaf in my freezer now and I can't wait to see how it holds up. 

This bread is a revelation and I can't believe that hardly anyone makes or eats it anymore.  It's something I hope that I'll be able to pass on to future generations.