NATURE 1

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THE COYOTE RULES

by Anita Rafael

Why coyotes are here to stay

You may have noticed that a few llamas have been living on Harrison Avenue in Newport, Rhode Island, for some time now. Their full time, 24-hour a day job is protecting the livestock at Hammersmith Farm and the Swiss Village Foundation from coyotes. At the first sight of a coyote, the llamas screech high-pitched alarms, chase and kick the animal, and sometimes herd sheep, goats, calves and even geese, ducks and turkeys into a close huddle in their pens. These fellows were purchased for about $700 each. While it is legal for licensed hunters shoot coyotes in Rhode Island year-round within the limits of the Department of Environmental Management’s guidelines and except where city or town ordinances prohibit gunfire, the llama line-of-defense is just right when it comes to handling our coyote problem.
Problem? Does Aquidneck Island have a coyote problem? Not really, according to wildlife biologist Charles Brown of the Rhode Island D.E.M. There are coyotes in every community in the state (except on Block Island he says), and controversies arise, from almost every naturalist’s point of view, because of the things that people do, not necessarily because of what the coyotes are doing.
Many of the factors that have made Canis latrans a “successful species,” as Brown puts it, are the same exact things that make our cultivated pastures, sprawling suburbs and landscaped streets so attractive and livable. For example, people like open spaces – for agriculture, scenic views and broad lawns. Coyotes like open spaces, too. In fact, the best places to go to observe coyotes are along the bushy borders of fields, vacant lots and golf courses. That is where they typically search for their preferred prey, a diet that includes field mice, rabbits, fawns, and even snakes and grasshoppers.

Prior to 1900, coyotes ranged only in the western and south-western U.S. The first confirmed presence of coyotes in Rhode Island was a non-rabid animal that was shot in Warren in 1969, although there were certainly some here before that date since both Massachusetts and Connecticut reported them as far back as 1957 and 1958.

The way you live and how coyotes live have much in common. Gardeners, for example, like compost piles, which they lavishly enrich with kitchen scraps. Coyotes adore compost piles ripe with such tasty snacks as yesterday’s salad, spoiled fruit and your stale donuts. Then, there are the suburbanites who spend a fortune on birdfeeders, filling them with all kinds of seeds, corn, fruit and nuts to attract a variety of species. You are right if you are thinking that to coyotes, birdfeeders are like the Golden Arches. They will show up regularly for whatever is on the menu. All the birds and mammals nibbling at your compost heap and clinging to your feeders are mouth-watering morsels to them, as well. Finally consider this: People build roads, and so, logically, the more asphalt we roll out, the more road-kill there will be. Coyotes know that paved surfaces offer fine dining and they are often seen trotting down the breakdown lane, hoping to scavenge fresh flesh along the double yellow line.
Coyotes, which average about 30-35 pounds for females and more for males, are bold predators, but they are otherwise extremely shy and elusive. Although they typically hunt at night, mainly to avoid people, says Brown, coyotes with a litter to feed will be out and about in daytime, too. A coyote seen crouching, then pouncing in a snow-dusted field in the dead of winter is not a deranged animal; it is one stalking its next meal.
A small male, with its long, dense fur, pointed nose and ears and black-tipped tail, one that you perhaps see languishing about, is likely to be a young adult without its own territory or mate, according to Brown. “Coyotes are highly territorial and pair for their lifespan,” he says, “but it takes a while for them to find a mate and establish hunting grounds.” Over a season or two, a transient may survive, but it will not breed. That is Mother Nature’s method – without traps, poison or ammo – of controlling their population. The natural death rate among young coyotes is brutal, Brown says, and there is a formula to it. Where food is scarce, their range may be up to 25 square miles, and therefore people see fewer coyotes. Fewer survive to adulthood. Where food is plentiful, their territories shrink accordingly and there are likely to be more encounters with people in populated areas like ours.
Lean, but not necessarily mean, these wild cousins to the family pooch are not exactly being driven out of their wilderness habitats by ruthless developers who are bulldozing fields and forests for new housing projects and mega-shopping malls; on the contrary, coyotes are naturally adapting to all the places where they can score an easy meal and dig a cozy den away from larger predators. In other words, to a coyote, your manicured “ranchette” is prime real estate, as comfy to them as a Wyoming prairie. Their ability to rely on animals, bugs or plants as a food source, and to thrive in any environment, from the frozen tundra to a festering trash heap, is in many ways enviable.
Here is an ecosystem tip: learn the general rules of encounters with wild animals, but find a way to give the coyotes in our midst their space, too. “No one knows exactly how many coyotes there are on Aquidneck Island, and it would be hard to even guess,” admits Brown, but since like you, they have abundant food sources, he points out that, like you, they are here to stay. In order to make our private properties coyote-proof, many more South American llamas may be here to stay, as well. Bueno, hablamos español?


DON’T SHOOT

What should you do when you repeatedly see a coyote on your property -- or a pack of them, which is likely a pair with 4 to 6 pups and tag-along adolescents? Admire them, but never lose sight of the fact that they have sharp teeth and a killer’s survival instincts. Here are a few coyote rules.

• Do not leave trash or pet food outdoors and stop composting temporarily. Young coyotes may actually become fond of you for providing them with a free lunch every day and fearlessly hang around even more.
• Trim and clean out all shrubs and brush that provide cover for coyotes or for the animals on which they prey.
• For peace of mind, fence your toddler’s play area at least 6 feet high with the bottom edge buried a few inches below ground.
• Get rid of sources of fresh water that are close to your house, for example, birdbaths.
  Reconsider how many birdfeeders you really need and place them far away from your house.
• In a paw-to-paw-to-hand match up with a coyote, you and your pet are likely to be the losers. Personally supervise your outdoor pets and in the event of a bite (out of Fluffy or yourself) get medical attention immediately.
• Inform wildlife officials if the coyotes become habitual beggars or if you feel threatened by their behavior.
  
  
  

GARDENS 2

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INSIDE OUT

by Anita Rafael

How to create an outdoor living room. Our experts share their best advice.

Walls, flooring furniture, fabrics, heating, lighting, appliances and accessories – just about everything that went into planning your living room and kitchen are things you need to take into consideration when restyling your old patio into a new outdoor living area. When it comes to whether or not you really need to build a complete second kitchen outside, that’s up to you. Landscape architect Katherine Field of Katherine Field and Associates, Inc. of Newport says that she considers a dining terrace to be as much of a gathering place as the kitchen indoors. “We are putting in outdoor kitchens complete with Viking ranges and more,” she says.

While some outdoor places lend themselves naturally to the illusion of enclosure – a spot against the back of the house or a patio off the breezeway – property owners often have to think about “framing” their outdoor rooms with plantings that delineate the space.
Tim Brown of T. J. Brown Landscaping, a firm that his family has run since 1901, not only thinks about what his clients need to plant now to erect a “wall” of greenery for an outdoor room, he also thinks about how others will need to care for these trees and shrubs for years to come. The idea of living fences has been used for centuries as enclosures, and he likes creating pleached hedges, in which twig by twig, branches are trained to interweave.
“You see privet used for privacy everywhere in Newport, but I also like beech,” Brown says, “especially where the client needs 30 feet of height or more to block out a bad view.” There are beech hedges around town that Brown knows to be already more than 100 years old. One species he recommends is the salt-tolerant Dawyck purple beech, first discovered in Scotland in the 19th century. Planted in a row, they grow upright into a high, narrow screen.
The way Michael Cavanagh of Michael Cavanagh Landscape Design in Newport sees it, all plantings in a landscape ought to be “ecologically sound” even the select plants you choose to place in and around an outdoor room. For that reason, he prefers to use native plants.
Cavanagh’s motto is “The more plants the better.” However, he also knows that especially in Newport’s colonial neighborhoods, some yards are small. He looks for cultivars that spread slowly and stay compact so that the outdoor living areas he designs will not be overgrown in a season or two. Inkberry holly, one evergreen he particularly likes, is a good choice for borders because it can tolerate cold to minus 15° F. and it can be held to a 5-foot height.

While broad decks and deep porches will always be an indispensable feature of the typical seaside residence, especially where homeowners want to increase their elevation to take advantage of the view, more people are opting for terraces and steps of natural stone.
“People are choosing to use natural products rather than manmade blocks, say of concrete,” says Katherine Field, “because stone is low maintenance and reliably durable.” In her view, natural stone can be used to create a range of dramatic looks in a landscape that concrete simply cannot.
Where once it was left up to the masons to decide which piece of bluestone went where on a stepping-stone path Field’s clients are relying on her artistic talent to make sure that the overall design is precise and cohesive, and that the colors blend well with the other surfaces and materials on the property. Field says. “The paving patterns I am designing for outdoor rooms have more work in them. I am using more patterns within patterns, for example to create a focal point or define a border.”With an architect’s eye for balance she combines plantings, furnishings, paving, fencing and lighting into a single composition, the sum of which is always greater than the parts.

Put this tip high on your need-to-know list before you go furniture shopping: Those old-fashioned picnic tables with their knee-knocking attached benches are out. Wide, medium-height cocktail tables are in.
“People want casual dining tables, but the trend now is lower tables,” says Tom Purvis, manager of the patio store at McKay’s Front Porch in Wickford. “You can several arrange chairs nicely at a 42” or 48” round table, for example, and they’re not so low that people can’t eat comfortably.”
All things teak are always a homeowners best choice for outdoor furniture. Although cedar-built furniture is lighter, and vinyl-resin wicker is more popular than real wicker, he says, there is nothing like the look of silvery-gray weathered teak.
The best news for people who love cushions and pillows on their garden benches is that top designers, like Ralph Lauren Home, are expanding their lines to include outdoor fabrics, too. Customers can choose from a broader range of colors and patterns than were available in the past from companies such as Sunbrella®, the favorite for its UV-ray and rot resistant properties.
As for accessories there is a new trend in the umbrella department, as well. “The big 9-foot garden umbrellas used to come in either dark green or natural white,” says Purvis, “Now, customers are buying bright colors – sunny yellow and sky blue.” Another style tip: Before you buy a traditional center pole umbrella, look at the new offset models, which cantilever over your seating area.

If there is one person who knows how to heat up a chilly evening so that you can sit outside until midnight stargazing with your friends, it is Charlie Medeiros at Ash Aways Island Hearth and Patio in Middletown. He says that people who bought small, freestanding terra-cotta chimineas, became hooked on the pleasure of sitting by the fireside outdoors and they are back again shopping for something bigger.
“This season we have homeowners asking for a single unit where they can cook and build a nice fire later on,” Medeiros says. Once his customers have decided that they do not really need a Volvo-sized grilling station just to char a few shrimp on the “barbie,” he shows them a Nexo outdoor fireplace.
Imported from Mors, Denmark, Nexos are part chimney, part grill and part campfire, all in one. “The stone makes it look custom-built, but it actually comes in three or four sections that a mason mortars together on site,” he explains. It can burn either wood or charcoal. The Cape Cod model is only 31” deep and shaped to snuggle into a tight corner. Unlike a like a ground-level fire pit, the tall 83” stack sends the smoke up high and away from your seating area.

Get the all details right in your personal paradise, put together the right furniture, plants and accessories and who knows – the best room at your house may not even be in the house.

FOOD 2

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A DELICACY WORTH DEBATING

by Anita Rafael

Johnny cakes, jonny cakes, Johnnycakes, jonnycakes, journey cakes, jonikens, Shawnee cakes, hoecakes, hoe cakes, ashcakes, battercakes, corn cakes, Indian slapjacks

No one can agree on what to call them, no one can agree on how to spell or write the name, no one can agree on how to cook them, no one can agree whether to eat them with maple syrup or just butter, and no one can agree on where the recipe came from – which is why for the last three hundred and fifty years or so, Rhode Islanders have been perennially, and proudly, having johnnycake debates. They will probably continue to do so for … well, for eternity. If you counted, you would probably find that there are probably more folks arguing about johnnycake lore and legend than there are people actually eating any. It is time to pick up your forks and let your taste buds cast a ballot for their favorite recipe.

Before you heat the griddle for a batch of johnnycakes, take the mandatory field trip to Gray’s Grist Mill in Adamsville, a small village on the westernmost boundary of Newport County, Rhode Island. It is likely that there has been a mill at this site on the west branch of the Westport River since 1700. Adamsville is quiet, bucolic, and everyone, above all the mallards swimming near the millpond dam, seems to like it that way.
The most industrious person in the village is without a doubt the affable miller. Thornton Owen Simmons hefts 50-pound sacks of corn kernels to pour the “grist” into a wooden hopper. Next, he shakes the "damsel," a vertical rod used to coax the kernels downward through the "shoe.” Grinding at a tranquil pace, it takes about an hour to turn three bushels of hard, dry kernels into a soft, silky meal. Simmons uses only Rhode Island-grown whitecap flint corn in accordance with the edict issued by the Society for the Propagation of the Jonnycake (their version has no h) Tradition in Rhode Island. The lamentably disbanded association decreed that a true johnnycake is made with this obsolete strain of eight-row Indian maize only. Gray’s Grist Mill is supplied with flint corn grown by a farmer in Exeter, Rhode Island, who ships it “shelled,” meaning husked and removed from the cob.
Working to the rotating rhythm of the 15-inch thick, 1½-ton granite millstones, Simmons says, “You can hear the sound of the water rushing through the sluiceway when I open the gate. This was built as a water-powered mill, but now we have a silent electric motor turning the stones.” The miller distributes Gray’s cornmeal by mail order directly to customers in towns and cities throughout the country, including Fairbanks, Alaska. He even has celebrity patrons. The late Julia Child was a fan of Gray’s and one of the miller’s treasured possessions is a letter that America’s chef-extraordinaire wrote praising their “Rhode Island polenta.”
Once you have a sack of historically accurate cornmeal, which in colonial-era cookbooks is called Indian meal, you are half way to johnnycake heaven.

Cook's Tip Traditionally milled corn contains none of the preservatives found in store bought grains, so keep it refrigerated to preserve freshness.

Here comes the real challenge: Deciding which johnnycake recipe you like and making up your mind how to serve them. At Bishop’s 4th Diner in Newport, johnnycakes are a staple on the menu. Owners Steve and Nancy Bishop estimate that the kitchen goes through a 50-pound sack of Kenyon’s Johnnycake Mix in about three weeks. Kenyon’s mix is made in an historic 19th century mill in Usquepaugh, Rhode Island and, for the record, contains corn from local and out-of-state farms.
“I add one egg per gallon of batter, and use the ingredients Kenyon’s suggests … a pinch of salt, a little sugar, hot water,” says Bishop. “The trick is use butter on the griddle or pan, and make sure it’s hot. Hot so the edges brown just a little bit.” Bishop’s commercial-grade grill is a sizzling 400o and, like the diner itself, the thin johnnycakes are classic. A serving of three 6-inch round johnnycakes is topped with a pat of butter. Nancy Bishop says, “I think whether or not to eat them with maple syrup is more of a generation thing. I always bring a pitcher of syrup to the table … just in case … and it’s always the old-timers who glare at me and tell me to take it away.”
Like everyone in the state, miller Simmons has his unique take on the recipe. He fries the cakes in a bit of corn oil, and is not fussy about which kind of pan or griddle he uses as long as it is hot. “We have a great piece of documentary film here that shows John Hart, the old miller who worked here most of his life. He is seen cooking up a batch of johnnycakes on a cook stove using a little aluminum non-stick pan and an ordinary plastic spatula.” Obviously, for Hart the secret to great taste was his flaky-textured, chemical-free cornmeal not the cookware.
Johnnycake purists might want to skip this part: Simmons, who is as Yankee as they come with family ties to American soil since 1621, not only eats his johnnycakes with maple syrup, he also sells Rhode Island Grade A maple syrup at the mill store to go with his “neither thick or thin” version of the batter.
So, whose cornmeal tastes best? Whose johnnycakes are authentic? In 1939, the Rhode Island Federation of Women’s Clubs came up with a brilliant plan to solve the recipe controversy once and for all. According to Early American Society author Carol McCabe, the ladies held a johnnycake contest. More than one thousand entries were submitted. Result? Gee, take a wild guess.

You can visit the interpretive exhibits at the mill and buy cornmeal and specialty pancake mixes Tuesdays through Sundays from noon to 4 p.m., June through December. Most weekend afternoons, you can see the mill in operation. Less than a century ago, you might have bartered farm produce or factory-made goods with the miller for your cornmeal. Not anymore -- bring $4.99 for a one pound sack. Gray's Grist Mill, 638 Adamsville Road, Adamsville, on the Massachusetts-Rhode Island state line.

While many miller may scoff, some members of the old school insist that the best johnnycakes are made with cornmeal that has been stone-milled – because they say there is a certain flavor that comes from the infinitesimal amounts of pulverized granite incorporated into the meal during the grinding process. Then, there are those who maintain that the cornfield has to be located a minimal distance from the ocean -- because there is a nuance of sea salt in every kernel that they say comes from the soil and the atmosphere.

In the 1999 paperback book Wind Grist Mills and Jonnycakes, Bill, one of the voices in the narrative explains why you shouldn’t worry about wearing down your teeth from eating stone ground cornmeal, “Any little chips that might pop off the [mill] stones are sifted out before they get to the bag and the granite dust that does get in is inconsequential. I’ve probably eaten a hundred times more sand and dirt from spinach and lettuce than from jonnycakes and corn muffins.” Mrs. Peabody, another one of the voices in the narrative tells how often she ate johnnycakes, “We had them at least once a day, and many times, twice a day. They were a substitute for bread really. They were served in place of potatoes, too. Johnnycakes with creamed tuna or chipped beef are especially good.”-- -- by Robert Sisson Chase, raised on a farm in Middletown, RI

RECIPES (first 4 from Gray’s)

THIN johnnycakes
Take quantity of corn meal required. Add a little salt. Wet with milk, thin it down with cold milk. Fry on a hot griddle.

THICK johnnycakes
Take quantity of corn meal required. Add a little salt. Scald with boiling water to make a stiff batter. Add a small amount of milk. Fry on a hot griddle.

Neither Thick Nor Thin -- The Miller’s Recipe
1 cup stone ground white cornmeal
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons sugar
1 cup boiling water
4 tablespoons to ½ cup milk

Mix the three dry
ingredients in a bowl. Add boiling water. To thin batter, stir in milk one
tablespoon at a time. Drop by the tablespoonful into a well-greased and hot (375o) griddle. Cook on each side until golden brown.

Newport County Style Johnnycakes
1 cup johnnycake meal ½ teaspoon salt 1 teaspoon sugar 1 cup milk 1 cup water
Combine the dry ingredients in a bowl. Add the milk and water, and mix thoroughly. Grease a large skillet with butter, margarine, or bacon fat, and place over moderate heat. Pour a few tablespoons of batter into the skillet to form a cake 2 to 3 inches wide. Fry until the edges of the johnnycakes are brown, then flip. Keep the batter thin, adding more milk as necessary. Serve with lots of butter and maple syrup.

From The First American Cookbook, 1796, by Amelia Simmons
Indian Slapjack
One quart of milk, one pint of Indian meal, 4 eggs, 4 fpoons of flour, little falt, beat together, baked in griddles, or fry in a dry pan, or which has been rub’d with fuet, lard or butter.

HISTORIC SITE 2

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WALL TO WALL WILBORS

by Anita Rafael

What does one farmhouse times four centuries divided by seven generations of Wilbors equal? What else, but a fascinating architectural equation.


By the wayside of what was once an ancient trail in Little Compton, Rhode Island there is a three hundred year old house that was, without a whisker of Yankee doubt, built to last. Last it has -- lived in, added onto, divided in half, updated with brick hearths, fine wallpaper and fancy woodwork, and finally, sold off by the one family that owned it for seven generations, every window, door, wall, floor and ceiling is the architectural record of the lifestyle of America’s hardworking farmers. It is considered to be the best-preserved early building in town, and after five decades of ongoing restoration to make it into a museum, the Little Compton Historical Society is in the process of listing the Wilbor House at 548 West Main Road on the National Register of Historic Places.
Samuel Wilbor (also spelled Wilbore, Wilbour, Wilber and Wilbur just to confound historians) built his timber frame home around 1690. He had purchased land that had been bought from the Sakonnet tribe about 17 years earlier by the town’s proprietors. Legally, he and his few fellow settlers were homesteaders in the hinterlands of Plymouth colony because Little Compton would not be officially incorporated as Rhode Island territory for another 56 years.
Samuel’s plain and simple dwelling, typical of most 17th century vernacular structures along the New England seaboard, consisted of two rooms each with a fireplace: The rooms, more or less square, were one above the other, with a steep staircase and a low attic. He and his few other neighbors throughout the “Sagonate land,” as it was known in Samuel’s day, angled their residences so that the front doors faced southward, taking advantage of the warming sunshine.
By 1712, Samuel’s wife Mary had given birth to eleven Wilbors in this house. Defying all odds, every one of her second-generation American-born babies lived to adulthood. The Historical Society believes that a rustic backroom along the north side, called the long kitchen, was added in the early years for obvious reasons – growing Wilbors. Throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, the women who lived there bore ten or more children. The space-saving press bed, a fold-up rope bed that the couple slept in on display in the lower great room, is a reminder that in such a tiny house, no room was reserved for a single person or purpose. Moreover, since it was a 122-acre working farm, there may have been a hired field hand or two and, perhaps, a country girl helping with infants and women’s work – all joining the family for meals and all sleeping under the same roof.
By the mid-1800s, the house was still owned and occupied by Wilbors – two sixth generation brothers named Oliver and William. Their sister, Deborah, lived there, too. Both brothers married, but rather than tossing a coin to determine who took his bride and left and who stayed put on the nearly 200-year old family farm, they each occupied half of it. To accommodate their spouses, as well as their sister, the brothers each built a separate kitchen addition. These were the last rooms added to the house, but not the last interior alterations.
It seems peculiar that after many generations in which there were bountiful babies, both couples and the sister were childless. Oliver was the last blood relative of Samuel Wilbor’s to live in the house. When Oliver’s widow Abby Manchester Wilbor died, ownership passed to nieces and nephews living elsewhere. The heirs sold the property out of the family for the first and last time in the 1920s, leaving the Wilbors who had been born there, lived and worked there and who eventually died there to rest in peace in the family graveyard beyond the old barn.
The place was a dairy farm for the next 30 years, but Manuel DeAlmo, the owner and dairyman, never lived on site. He divided the residence into multiple apartments, used by as many as six families, at times, until about 1950. When the Little Compton Historical Society acquired the by then-forlorn Wilbor House five years later, the restorers revealed that there was still no indoor plumbing. DeAlmo’s tenants had, like the Wilbors for nearly three hundred years before them, been using outhouses. (Six of them, in fact, but fear not – if you have to go when you go there, there are now modern facilities.)
Unlike Route 77, which is a fairly direct route, passing by the Wilbor House on down to Sakonnet Point, the restoration of an old house is a winding path, wrought with hidden twists and tortuous turns. During the continuing work on the building, the Historical Society has come to expect puzzles about where original doors and windows might have been and the members look forward to discussing the many clues discovered in every partition and panel. Half a century later, they are still quite delighted to uncover more secrets about the structure and forgotten tales about the family. While it is obvious that big changes occurred in this house, thanks to the old-fashioned frugality and the make-do way of life of Wilbor after Wilbor, there seems to have been little progress after all.
For the visitors who listen to the docents’ thoughtful interpretations of this house-museum and who study the hundreds of artifacts on display in the seven rooms open to the public, the surprise is that time has, in fact, stood still at least once every century at this scenic, quiet farm.

The Little Compton Historical Society, PO Box 577 Little Compton, RI. The Wilbur House Museum, 548 West Main Road, is open Thursday through Monday, June through September, or by appointment Visitors may tour the entire house, plus several of the outbuildings, the corncrib, a historic outhouse, and the 2-acre grounds. These are some of the things you will learn about the house and family.

The Little Compton Garden Club has been tending the herb garden at the Wilbor House for more than 40 years. Club members cultivate a variety of common herbs that were grown in Colonial times, some of which were used for cooking and others for home remedies. A garden at the north end of the house is dedicated to Dorothy Paine Brayton, the nearby neighbor who donated the funding for the Historical Society to purchase the Wilbor House.

The hand-hewn timbers are the most eye-catching feature of the oldest rooms of the Wilbor House – note the exposed corner posts and the large overhead beam, called the summer. The unplastered ceiling would have been typical of the late 1600s, as well as the stone – not brick – fireplace and chimney. The lower great room was used by Samuel and Mary Wilbor and their 11 children for just about every activity: cooking, eating, sewing, entertaining, washing, giving birth and sleeping. The seven daughters probably played together and slept close to the hearth on cold nights in the upper great room, as it was called, on the second floor, while every evening, the older boys may have climbed up to the attic above where there was no fireplace for warmth.

Samuel’s son William Wilbor added a living room, or parlor, about 1740 on the southwest side of the first floor of the house. It has many gentrified details, such as cased beams, larger windows, painted moldings and floors and a brick hearth. All of the furnishings in the house-museum, some owned by the Society and some on extended loan from area families, have a Little Compton connection. The split banister back chairs by an unknown maker have finials and crests in a style seen here and nowhere else.

The crewel embroidery (preserved on new backing) on the bed hangings in the west bedroom was the status symbol of the 18th century chamber. Such well-appointed bedrooms were often used for entertaining guests, say, for tea or supper. The refined colors on the woodwork and floor replicate the original paint, found under many layers of other colors during restoration at the Wilbor House.

In the 1860s, Oliver Wilbor built a new Victorian kitchen on the north side of the house, and his brother William who lived in the other half of the house, built a matching one on the easterly end. (William’s kitchen later became the Historical Society’s reception room and office.) Being fellows well-accustomed to country ways, neither brother ever saw the need to install modern plumbing, however they did pamper their wives with the conveniences of iron cook stoves, iron sinks with
hand pumps, oil lamps, and ice boxes.

FOOD 1

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SUMMER EQUALS PIE EQUALS SUMMER

by Anita Rafael

You could say that pie made of fruit fresh from local orchards and farms is summer, and no one would argue with you, either, if you said that pie is an American birthright: The pursuit of happiness and pie.


It can’t be a backyard picnic in June without a strawberry pie. It can’t be 4th of July without a sour-cherry pie or a blueberry pie. It can’t be a supper by the lake in August without a blackberry pie. As American as apple pie – there it is.
How the classic fruit-filled pie came to be somehow completely ours, even though ancient Egyptian recipes for pie-like pastries are the earliest known, is a matter of serious conversation among the founders and members of The American Pie Council. (Yes, there really is such an organization and its oh-so-worthy mission seems to be more pie for everyone.) The group says it is “committed to preserving America's pie heritage and promoting American's love affair with pies.” The annual National Pie Championships, where of amateur, professional and commercial pie bakers compete for the best pie prize, is their Kentucky Derby, and their quarterly newsletter, Pie Times, is well… good enough to eat.

When is National Pie Day? Mark your date books now for National Pie Day– it is January 23rd, registered by The American Pie Council. Their top tips for celebrating pie day are to first, make pies and eat them, and second, give other people pie.

No one appreciated the notion that a homemade pie is might indeed be more than a mere dessert than the legendary humorist and author Mark Twain. During an extended stay in Europe in 1878, he wrote A Tramp Abroad, a book about his adventures. In it, he mulled over what he missed about home, too, and he even compiled a menu of all the foods he wanted hot, ready and waiting on the table for him the moment he set foot back on U.S. soil. On the mouthwatering list is not one, but five of the pies he missed most. Twain evidently had a serious craving for homemade pie – “Apple pie … Peach pie. American mince pie. Pumpkin pie. Squash pie.”

A Vermont housewife, itemizing her baking for the year 1877, counted that she had made 421 pies for her family. In fact, old-timers in northern New England calculated that a pie a day per person was just about the right amount of pie to keep a hard-working family happy.

For some cooks, each pie is a solemn tribute to mothers everywhere, and to them, a homemade pie is an expression of pure love. “I remember my mother’s pies,” says Paul Bergeron of Sakonnet River Pie. “and when she served them, she would take out the first piece and look underneath to be sure the bottom crust was not soggy. It was always perfect.” His mother’s pies, made with a simple, flaky pastry, inspired his recipes when he began his Little Compton pie-making business three years ago. It all started when, one weekend in July, he set seven fresh pies out on the low stone wall where Swamp Road meets the road to Sakonnet Point.
“He put the pies under wire-mesh pie-domes, and left a cash box next to a small black and white sign with the price.* In an hour, the pies were gone and the cash box, all on the honor system, was full,” says Chuck Hamlin, the marketing director of Sakonnet River Pie. The following day, Bergeron set more warm, fresh blueberry pies out on the wall, and in the blink of an eye, those were picked up by more drive-by customers. The next weekend, someone who had apparently become instantaneously addicted to Bergeron’s pie, left a slip of paper inside the cash box asking for “one berry pie (the best in the world!) for tomorrow.” Hamlin, who has preserved the hand-written note says, “It was our first order and first consumer testimonial.” To make it all legitimate, Sakonnet River Pie was launched.

Last year, Bergeron and Hamlin rehabilitated a small outbuilding on the property into a state-inspected commercial kitchen for Sakonnet River Pie. More like a petit temple to pie-baking, the compact, and highly efficient “cook-house” designed by Rumford architect Stephen Greenleaf, evokes Little Compton’s coastal farm character.
Bergeron says he grew up on pie, rather than on rich, decadent cakes, so he understood that there had to be a difference between the common pie, and what he wanted a Sakonnet River Pie to be. Here is where he advises pie-lovers to take notes. Raising the bar to its highest point of perfection, Bergeron shuns those throw-away aluminum foil pans. All his pies are baked and sold to customers in thick, oven-proof pie plates. The traditional glass plate makes the pies “real” and customers cheerfully redeem their empties for a credit towards their next purchase or for cash.
Secondly, the fruit he uses is native and unconditionally fresh. Every pie-person knows that the flavor is in the freshness, and Bergeron is one of the regulars at Middletown’s Sweet Berry Farm, at Richard Hart’s in Tiverton and at Old Stone Orchard in Little Compton.
Finally, Bergeron has made an art form of the lattice design for the upper crust. “See?” he says, “It’s not just strips going across one way and then the other way, it’s actually woven, over and under.” If Sakonnet River Pies could have his signature, that would be it, and it is a voluptuous one at that. **
Like most enthusiastic chefs, Bergeron, a graduate of the Culinary Institute of America, willingly shares his best blue-ribbon secret. After washing the fruit gently, he tosses it lightly with the sugar and spices his recipe calls for, and lets it macerate for 10 minutes. Next, he drains the liquid, heats it to a boil, and then allows it to cool. When he fills the pie crust, he adds the fruit, then pours just the right amount of the cooled fruit syrup over the fruit, and finally, dots it all with butter before adding the top crust.
“Never cook the fruit first,” Bergeron says. To which the hungry and homesick Mark Twain might have added, “…and bring a pie with you wherever you go.”

Pie crust, like most simple pastry, is made of flour, fat, and water. However, pie crust wasn’t always meant to be edible. Sometimes it was just used as a “lid” for the cooking pan. Medieval cooking texts typically explain how to lay the fruit (or meat for a savory pie) in a "coffin,” a long narrow baking dish, and cover it with a thick crust, vented a little with some holes to let the steam escape. Baked in or near open flames and ash, the crust became blackened, dry and hard, so it was lifted off the “pye” and thrown away.

COLLECTING ANTIQUES 2

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ON THE RIGHT TRACK

by Anita Rafael

America’s romance with railroading began in the 1840s with a jaw-dropping awe for the smoke and steam belching Iron Horse and it lives on among collectors of electric toy trains and model railroads.


His father had to buy him more than one toy train before the railroad bug bit Newporter Brian Pelletier. He ruined his first Lionel locomotives trying to chug the die-cast cars through the mud in the yard. He swapped his second railroad, a set of American Flyers, for some larger German-made LGB scale cars. He buried those in the mud, too. When he was a little older, his father bought him his fourth set – a Lionel O-scale work train that he spent hours building into a detailed model railroad laid out on a 4 by 8 sheet of plywood in the dining room. It is a sweet nostalgia for those boyhood moments, he believes, that make old trains one of America’s most popular collectibles. Fifty years later, he is still buying train sets.
“The toy train thing,” as Pelletier calls it, “appeals on so many levels whether you’re a child or an adult. First, it’s fun to play with the mechanical parts and pieces. There’s the historical interest, and there are all the creative projects. I remember making paper mache mountains and tunnels out of soggy strips of the Newport Daily News, and assembling bridges and highways for the train to go over and under.” Every layout had to have a Main Street, he recalls, lined with Plasticville buildings and houses.

A friend of Pelletier’s, Tom Gunzelman of Portsmouth, not only recalls the three Lionel train sets he had as a kid, he still owns every car. “I just saved it all,” he says, “because I had a big layout in my basement that I worked on for years. It was an L-shape made of two sheets of plywood.” Today, Gunzelman, a retired Naval Underwater Systems Center mechanical engineer, is at the controls of a nearly 800-square-foot model railroad with nearly 400 individual circuits on which he runs 8 separate O-scale trains. He crossed the line, or the tracks so to speak, from having a casual interest in his boyhood pastime to becoming a serious collector when he was in his 40s. For the last 20 years, he has been buying both old and new cars and sometimes couples a 1950s Union Pacific tanker or Santa Fe boxcar to his just-bought locomotives for a trip around the tracks. When he shops for vintage trains, he is on the lookout for rare factory prototypes of cars that may not have been listed in the original manufacturers’ catalogs.

Both Gunzelman and Pelletier belong to the Train Collectors Association, a national organization with local and regional chapters that provide members with a forum to exchange information, buy and sell trains and accessories and hang together for railroad talk. With no false modesty, the website of the T.C.A, headquartered in Strasburg, Pennsylvania, claims that it is one of the “largest and most prestigious collecting societies in the world.”

“It’s mostly men,” says Pelletier. “Very few women. Little boys had their trains, and little girls, at least back then, played with dolls.” (Not all the boys were so little. Crooner Frank Sinatra, for example, was all grown up when he had separate building on his Palm Springs estate for his model railroad layout.) Novice collectors should resist the impulse to buy handcrafted railroad cars because the value of a one-of-a-kind train is purely subjective. In other words, what one connoisseur may see as priceless workmanship in an artistically painted caboose might be merely a handyman’s project to another train buff. To start building a classic model railroad, beginners might want to look for Lionel sets made before 1970. Why is that vintage important? Because many aficionados say that in 1969 the era of the "real" Lionel trains abruptly ended.

HO scale trains (1:87) and N scale models (1:160 ) make up about 90% of all toy railroading activity. A major advantage of N scale is the small amount of space needed to set up en entire a railroad system – you need twice as much room to build an equivalent HO layout. O trains (1:48) are sturdy enough for indoor layouts that will be handled by children. Other popular scales include: Z-1:220 (very miniature); OO-1:76; S-1:64; Standard-1:26.59; and G-1:24. The term "gauge" when used correctly refers to the distance between the rails of the track, not the size of the cars themselves.

Joshua Lionel Cowen and Harry C. Grant founded the Lionel Corporation in 1900 in New York City. Every Christmas morning by the early 1950s there were literally millions of orange and blue Lionel boxes being opened by excited little boys and their happy Dads. By that time, Lionel had become the largest toy company in the world, but they sold their product dies and the brand name to General Mills in 1969. General Mills changed the designs and manufacturing dramatically, introducing stamped steel and plastic parts into the formerly all-metal trains. In subsequent years, the brand was resold several times, and today, production is outsourced to Korea and China.

Shop persistently, and you will find postwar-era electric model railroads in every price range from a few dollars for individual cars to thousands for complete sets. However, getting one with all the instructions for operation and maintenance is not so easy. Try contacting other rail fans for copies of these important manuals, even if you are not planning to power up the trains.

The best thing to do with model trains is to store them in a cool, non-humid environment (to avoid melting and rust) and to keep them dust–free. Never store your collection in newspaper because the chemicals in the ink and the paper can stain the finish. Plastic wrap, or anything with a petroleum-base, can leave wrinkled impressions on the painted parts of old trains.

If you already have a collection, or discovered one in an attic and are wondering what it is worth, model railroad clubs can help you find resources where you get an estimate of its value. The one thing no appraiser will ever be able to put a price tag on, however, are those precious memories of the hours spent watching a long line of Pullmans loop the track. No timetables, no distractions, and on certain winter days – no school.

“I remember the big snow storms of the 1950s when I stayed indoors,” Pelletier says, “and played with my trains all day on the dining room table. I had a Lionel S-2 steam locomotive, a transformer car, a crane car and a work caboose.” Voicing the innermost feelings of countless collectors like himself, he glances across the table and says, “I wish I had those now.”

FOOD 3

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MUSHROOMS MAKE THE MEAL

by Anita Rafael

Foraging through the forests for wild mushrooms a true folk art, and in many cases, it has been proven to be a deadly one, at that. Stick to what you know – here is a mini-guide to everyone’s favorite market varieties along with a few cook’s tips about mushrooms.

The first book in English dedicated entirely to growing mushrooms for fine dining is likely to be the one published in 1779 by Londoner John Abercrombie. His key advice for “for producing this Desirable Plant in Perfection and Plenty” is to know where to get the best horse manure. Perfect dung, rich with mushroom spores, according to Abercrombie, comes from grain-fed carriage horses and should be collected fresh, first thing in the morning at the stables – which in his pre-automotive day, were on just about every block of cities such as old London.
Abercrombie’s complicated instructions on how to properly prime the manure so that a healthy, abundant crop of delectable mushrooms will magically appear out of a big pile of muck are detailed enough to thoroughly discourage the amateur gardener from even trying to grow them and, to tell you the truth, his descriptions of handling all that ripe horse manure can turn the taste buds of a gourmet palate from wanting to eat another mushroom ever.

That bit of historical horticulture should make all mushroom-eaters exceptionally happy that we only have to go as far as the tidy produce aisle of our local market to look for the world’s best mushrooms. Today’s farmers use a medium made from a variety of organic materials to grow their crop: the compost is scientifically formulated with a mix of straw, corn cobs, cotton seed, cocoa seed hulls, gypsum and nitrogen supplements. Most crops are grown and harvested on roughly a four-month cycle, year-round.

Delicious And Deadly?Is there a hardy little clump of delicious-looking cinnamon-colored mushrooms constantly sprouting up by the rotting tree stump in your backyard? Or a fat round “tree ear” fungus near the back of the woodpile? They could be edible, or else fatal. A few varieties of wild mushrooms are highly toxic and look very similar to edible species. The advice from the American Association of Poison Control Centers in Washington, D.C. is not to forage for wild mushrooms unless you are, in fact, a trained mycologist.

The most popular varieties are: white (Agaricus), portabella, crimini, shiitake, maitakes, morel, oyster, chanterelle, enoki and porcini. Chef John Bach-Sorensen, who was once the chef at the Danish embassy in London, England, and is the new owner of Newport’s La Petite Auberge Restaurant, says, “Not all mushrooms are interchangeable in recipes.” He is citing good science when says the minerals in the earth where wild mushrooms grow affect the flavors, just as the “terroir” where grapes are grown determines the taste of fine wines. Bach-Sorensen says that the typical cook’s biggest sin when it comes to mushrooms is blending too many varieties in one dish.
“You have to know exactly which taste and texture you are looking for in the recipe you are preparing,” says Bach-Sorenson, “If you mix them all up, or substitute a different mushroom, you have an entirely different dish.” The wild and cultivated mushrooms he orders for his escargot, crème and cepes appetizer and his beef bourguignon entree at La Petite come from as far away as Poland, Argentina and Oregon, or from as nearby as Tiverton, Rhode Island.

Hippocrates used mushrooms in medicinal preparations in the 5th century BC, however he left no details of which ones best cured various ailments. Shiitake mushrooms, which have been cultivated in Asia for more than 2,000 years, contain a compound called lentinan and are being used as a cancer treatment in
Japan.

To satisfy the sophisticated requests of their upper-crust clients, the chefs at Blackstone Catering of Middletown have come up with their own time-tested blend of mushrooms that they use in various recipes. Executive Chef Joe Melanson, who holds his Masters Degree from Johnson & Whales University, says that when he is asked to make standard stuffed chicken breasts more exciting, he reaches for mushrooms to make a gourmet filling. “I combine portabella and crimini for their intense flavors,” he says, “then add oyster mushrooms for their firm texture.” He leaks a little known mushroom fact: Portabellas are really just a larger version of crimini mushrooms and so pairing the two does not confuse the flavors in the recipe, but makes a better visual presentation.
Melanson’s tips for at-home chefs are, first, always use a very hot pan when sautéing mushrooms to avoid a limp, soggy result, and, second, be sure that the mushrooms are not wet, or else they will steam cook. He says, “Here’s the technique. High heat, short cooking time. You want them to nearly sear in the heat.”
Like everyone, Melanson is impressed by the number of mushroom varieties that are available in any good market, and encourages cooks not to be afraid to experiment until they learn how each one is different. He says, “At one time the supermarkets only had white button mushrooms, now there are more kinds on the shelf than ever before.” Prior to the days of modern refrigeration, fall and early winter months were considered the prime “mushroom market” because cooler, dryer weather meant the mushrooms could be shipped and stored with less spoilage. Thanks to internet technologies and nearly instantaneous global transportation, Erdei szömörcsög fungus that grow wild in the Hungarian woods and white button mushrooms that are farm-raised in California or Pennsylvania (the top 2 U.S. states for commercial production) can be on our dinner tables within hours after harvest.

Some biologists have thrilled the world’s true fungus gourmets to no end by estimating that there may be as many one and a half million different kinds of mushrooms, of which only about 80,00 have been identified, and even fewer actually eaten.

Cook’s Tips

A few useful tips from the mushroom experts on choosing and handling fresh mushrooms are worth noting. When properly chilled, most varieties keep about 5 to 7 days, unsliced, and others, such as whole shitakes, morels and enokis keep as long as 2 weeks. A distinctly earthy aroma is a positive sign of freshness in mushrooms, not spoilage.

• Inspect the mushrooms that you are buying and avoid any with bruises or soft spots.
• Mature mushrooms have slightly open caps and exposed gill tissue.
• Mushrooms spoil faster in Ziploc® bags and Tupperware® containers, so leave them in their original containers.
• Keep mushrooms about 34-35 degrees F. for optimum shelf life, but be aware that mushrooms can absorb strong odors from other foods placed near them in the fridge.
• There is no need to peel mushrooms, but you can slightly pare the stem ends if they are dried out or tough.
• Just before you are ready to use them, mushrooms can be wiped with a damp paper towel or given a quick dip in cool water and gently shaken dry. Some cooks dissolve a spoonful of flour (an ultra-mild abrasive) in water and clean the mushrooms one by one with a soft brush.
  
  Taster's Guide To Mushrooms
  White mushrooms are mild but cooking intensifies their woodsy flavor. Mushrooms with open veils and darkened caps develop an even richer taste.
  Crimini mushrooms come from the same family as whites, but taste earthier.
  Portabella mushrooms are larger crimini mushrooms and have a firm meat-like texture and rich flavor.
  Shiitake mushrooms are also known as Oak, Chinese or Black Forest mushrooms. When cooked, Shiitake mushrooms have a wild flavor with a meaty texture.
  Maitake mushrooms have a distinctive woodsy aroma that is drawn out by cooking.
  Chantarelle mushrooms have a nutty flavor and delicate texture.
  Oyster mushrooms have a delicate, mild flavor and velvety texture; some people say they have a faint oyster-like taste.
  Enoki mushrooms have a mild, almost fruity flavor with a slight crunchy texture.
  Morel mushrooms have a subtle nut-like flavor and deep woodsy fragrance.
  Porcini mushrooms, also called cepes, have a smooth, meaty texture and are pungent.

HOME 1

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KNOCK KNOCK (caption essay to accompany a photo layout)

by Anita Rafael

The invention of electric doorbells should have rendered old-fashioned door knockers obsolete, just like the automobile replaced the horse and buggy. Yet for some nostalgic reason, decorative door knockers are everywhere, suggesting that today’s homeowners are convinced that every door deserves its own personality. More like a domestic talisman, knockers are amusing, expressive, eye-catching, curious, and in some cases, aesthetically ordinary.

History has failed to record when knockers were invented (safe to say, it was with the advent of doors!), but in all probability the first ones were hand wrought, shaped in iron by blacksmiths, and later ones were mass-produced by casting the motel metal in molds.In colonial times, any door hardware in brass or bronze was a status symbol among the affluent; the bigger the brasses, the brighter the polish, the richer the owners. To this day, brass and bronze are the preferred materials, although most seem to be left unpolished now, allowed age to a fine patina in Newport’s salty air. Visitors at your door can gently tap, or heartily rap, even musically rat-tat-tat your door knocker, and wonder: Does this door knocker mean something? Centuries ago, door knockers might have told a story, like a trade sign. Door knockers in the shape of a hand with a lace around the wrist, for example, were the emblem of Huguenot silk-weavers in old London. Houses by the sea are apt to have a door knocker with a maritime theme. Horseshoes symbolize good fortune, and, make note, whether used as a door knocker or not, should always have the ends pointing up so that the luck will not drain out. Animals can have different meanings depending on the culture: a dolphin for hospitality or joy; a lion for courage; a boar for a warrior; a horse for power; a dove for peace; a dog for loyalty.

Can you think of a college that was named for a door knocker? At OxfordUniversity in the U.K, one of the oldest colleges is called Brasenose. It refersto a brass (“brase” in the old English spelling) door knocker in the shape of a nose, perhaps dating to the 12th century.

Final question: Is the pineapple the quintessential Newport door knocker? Official answer! Take a stroll up and down Newport’s historic streets, check out all the door décor, and decide for yourself.

COLLECTING ANTIQUES 1

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MONOGRAMMED AND MARVELOUS

by Anita Rafael

Handmade quilts and coverlets have long commanded great praise and high bids among textile collectors, but that has not been the case for the “company best” table, bed and bath linens from America’s affluent Victorian households,

So little respect has been given to embellished linens in the antiques market, that the primers and price guides on collecting typically contain little or nothing at all about them. Unwashed and unironed, assortments of small pieces such as old napkins, tea towels and doilies are more often than not stuffed into garbage bags at low-end flea markets and sold as a lot. Could a hundred-and twenty-year-old embroidered linen tablecloth ever be a price record-breaker on TV’s popular Antiques Roadshow? Could your own collection begin the day you bring home just one old hand-monogrammed pillowcase?

It is not only possible to fall head over heels in love with vintage linens, anyone with an ounce of nostalgia for needlework is likely to already own a stack of old damask napkins, neatly laundered in anticipation of the next big dinner party. In the wealthiest homes across Victorian America housekeepers and their mistresses spent inordinate amounts of time, effort and money acquiring, marking, counting, washing, starching and ironing enormous inventories of fine linens. Like owning an elaborate silver service with twenty different forks and ten types of spoons, having the model linen closet stocked with a several dozen of every conceivable article, mostly imported from Europe, was a show of high style and status. In the milieu of the middle-class, there was a time when every unwed girl had her hope chest (remember those?), and in it she kept some fashionable linen items, expecting to someday monogram them with her married initials.
Newporter Maria Lewis is a third-generation collector of fine linens who enjoys using her table linens everyday. “I have the things that my grandmother collected, and then my mother’s linens, too,” she says, adding, “There is not one paper napkin in this house!” The linens that Lewis has been buying since childhood are damasks with mythological figures or scenes, classical geometrics and then fauna, in that order. Some of her best finds are what she calls “convent linens,” made by Irish nuns. She bought the tablecloths at an auction in New York state because they have designs that she says she had never seen before or since.

Among the finer details to look for in old linens are hand-stitch hems and remarkable monograms or ciphers with intertwined initials. Expect to pay extra for complicated embellishments that show higher skill in the needlework and more creativity in the design. To tell if the embroidery was done by hand, count the stitches in, say, two identical leaves or letters. The exact same number of threads is a clue that this work is the repetitive precision of a sewing machine.

These days, there are two big advantages for the cost-conscious cut when it comes to collecting vintage linens. First, domestic textiles from the mid-1800s and early 1900s, produced in abundance, are still comparatively easy to find. Individual pieces turn up in yard sales with surprising frequency. Second, if you come across a trove of mismatched and rumpled linens, they are likely to be bargain-priced. The prices connoisseurs pay only begin to hit the ceiling when complete sets such as a large tablecloth paired with 16 or 24 monogrammed napkins, for example, have been inspected, laundered and pressed by a conservator prior to sale. A savvy dealer might readily take articles to be professionally evaluated before selling them, and then raise his price accordingly. If the linens can be identified as Porthault or Marghab, they have even greater value. The Marghab firm, which some experts claim set a benchmark for quality in hand-embroidery, closed its doors on the Portuguese island of Madeira the mid-20th century, making their goods all the more collectible nowadays. Lewis says that, in fact, when the business shut down operations, thousands of the Marghab designs were archivally preserved because of the remarkable workmanship. Porthault, a truly venerable firm, is still in business in Paris, France, with a New York City showroom, as well.

A century ago, most dining tables were wider than nowadays, so tablecloths were typically a generous 88 to 90 inches wide. They were meant to drop way over the edges of the table. A table looks its best when there is at least 10 to 20 inches of fabric overhanging on all sides.

At the high end, a mint condition banquet tablecloth that is more than 100 years old, perhaps hand-hemmed to 125 inches long by 90 inches wide, woven of creamy damask might easily raise an opening bid at auction of more than $400, and proceed to climb from there to double or triple that figure. Expect to pay the premium price for ready-to-use table items and pristine bedclothes at the better antique shops. As for the Internet, unless you are sure you can ship your purchases back to the seller for a refund if the quality and condition does not meet your standards, think twice about buying vintage linens online.
Since the rules of etiquette are a great deal more lenient now than in days gone by, it is not essential to own all matching sets of napkins, hankies or pillowcases, or to accumulate linens embroidered with only your monogram. Consider it a sweet reward anytime you score pieces with your initials. To tempt hesitant buyers, one dealer labels her hodgepodge linens as “Auntie Anybody’s” heirlooms, inviting customers to make up a few ancestors to go with the letters. Lewis advises shoppers not to be afraid of linens with some discoloration or stains. “Most of the dinginess and stains will come out,” she says, nonchalantly, “it’s more important to look for any hint of dry rot.” A textile whose fibers have begun to break down, usually as a result of having been stored in a hot, dry attic, Lewis explains, will simply disintegrate as soon as it gets wet. She protects some of her best pieces by storing them in 100% cotton pillowcases in rooms where the year-round temperature is more or less stable.

~ Beginner collectors should refer to reference guides to tell the difference between cotton, linen and various blended fibers. ~ Pure linen, made of flax only, can range from snow white to rich tan. The best damask is 100% linen. ~ A handy tip: Whenever you are antique hunting, use your nose. If you catch a whiff of camphor, your nana’s favorite insecticide, there is sure to be a stack of vintage fabrics within reach. ~ When browsing for old bed linens that you plan to use, do not assume they will fit your pillows or mattress. You may end up paying extra for alterations, and any tailoring you do slashes the investment value.

Since all historic textiles require extra effort for upkeep, especially if you are planning on using them regularly, filling a closet with vintage items is not for everyone. On the other hand, our inability to resist buying old linens may be preprogrammed from our childhoods. One woman may recall how chaste her grandmother’s Sunday table looked covered with its white damask tablecloth and she may use one just like it for that old-fashioned feeling. For another collector, simply refolding a dinner napkin might bring to mind his aunt’s patient lessons on good table manners. Is it possible that you, too, carry with you the romantic expectation that along with crisp, clean linens come many of the finer things of life?

OUTDOORS 1

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A PIECE OF PORTSMOUTH

by Anita Rafael

Say you like your trails somewhat muddy, quite narrow, barely blazed and particularly twisted. Say bullfrogs the size of chickens amuse you and say you are not the type to let a couple of snakes or a few mosquitoes ruin your day. Suppose you want to take a short walk in the woods, see a waterfall and end up where you started. Perhaps you are the kind of person who enjoys sitting by a still and silent pond long enough to feel a quiet peace within yourself. Where on Aquidneck Island would you go to find such a spot?

The entrance to the 4 miles of hiking trails at the Melville Pond recreation area in Portsmouth is spectacularly uninviting, which is exactly what makes it so intriguing. The approach road is a flat band of thin asphalt, cracked and weedy. There is an intimidating barricade, a crude dirt parking lot and, as far as you can tell, nothing but rusty chain link fence. The park signboard ahead is stark naked on both sides and there is not a single trail marker indicating where to begin your walk. Standing there, trying to decide – go ahead, go home, go ahead, go home – out of the stillness comes the melodic sound of a waterfall. The curiosity it creates is enough to lure anyone through the trees and down to the brook.
A few short steps along what hikers quickly realize is the Orange Trail because of the painted plaques nailed to tree trunks by the trailside, is a not very high, but sometimes mighty cascade. It tumbles over a ledge and down a manmade embankment, splashing its way out of tiny pools above the falls, along a miniature ravine and into a lower, larger pond.
This nature preserve is stocked with a portion of the more than 70,000 brook, brown and rainbow trout that the Rhode Island Department of Environmental Management releases in designated waterways throughout the state each spring and fall. The spot seems so undiscovered, however, that it makes you wonder if there might not be several great-great granddaddy trout and more than a few elderly pumpkinseeds enjoying the serenity of this small, lush habitat. During fishing season, from the second Saturday in April to the following February, you may see the half-bodies of anglers who have waded out past the cattails, but you cannot help but wonder if the hungry herons devour more than the most expert fisherman can ever catch.
This is a coastal refuge, and there are places along the Blue Trail where you can peer through the deciduous trees to get a glimpse of ocean over the masts of the boats at the East Passage Yachting Center. Yet, because it is small and secluded, Melville has the closeness of an inland forest. There are no wide meadows and no panoramic vistas, except out across the mysteriously calm pond.

WHAT IS A POND?Lest we Rhode Islanders waste our time and energy debating the matter, our state government has written a handy definition of the word pond: a pond is a place not less than one-quarter acre…where open, standing, or slowly moving water shall be present for at least six months a year.

The trails are respectfully litter-free and happily not much has been done to upgrade them. Forced to place one foot in front of the other, hikers zigzag along single file, but it is easy walking. Each person in turn, ducks the overgrown limbs and briars, climbs up a bit, then down some to trek around the perimeter of the ponds and across the brook. Along the path and in the underbrush, there is ample evidence of man’s former presence: some quarried stone, a water tower, fences, gates, pylons, a dam, a spillway and parts and pieces of now unidentifiable things that the military abandoned. Melville Pond is in territory that was previously owned by the United States government. In fact, in 1901, the basin, as it is sometimes called, was the Bradford Coaling Station, the Navy’s first coal loading depot. Not far from the wetlands, the military had a five-acre dumpsite. Officials claim the landfill was brush only. The area, encompassing 150 acres, has been owned and managed as a campground, recreation site and nature preserve by the Town of Portsmouth since 1978.
The Green Trail starts from east of the signboard and circles a pond farther upstream that is actually one of many lesser pools. A grassy access road, once the Mott Farm Road, is now marked as the Red Trail. It runs straight along the northeast fence line, across the train tracks down to the pebbly shoreline of Narragansett Bay. Snap out of your reverie as you step over the rails. Even though the Old Colony Railroad chugs along at 10 miles per hour, the locomotive might sneak up on you. Hikers sometimes backtrack on this route to the parking area, but it is more scenic to cut through the woods on the Orange Trail. On the Orange Tail, a wooden footbridge crosses the brook, and below the spillway along the Blue Trail hikers can rock-hop from shore to shore on strategically placed cast-concrete stepping-stones.
One reassuring aspect of hiking Melville Pond is that, even if you cannot always eyeball every blaze through the colorful fall foliage, you will not get lost – at least not permanently. The trails eventually loop back to where they started and most of the crooked cutoffs dead end at places where the scenery is sublime, the birds and waterfowl are abundant and the frog watching is superb.

LIFESTYLE 2

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THE WOODEN BOAT

by Anita Rafael

“Wooden boats provide a reassuring connection with the past and contribute to the romance of going to sea in a way that steel, aluminum or fiberglass cannot.” – David Brown

Newport woodworker Jon Heon’s first glimpse of Newport was from the deck of a wooden boat. “We sailed in and tied up at Goat Island late at night. At first light the next day, I came up from my berth below and looked out across the inner harbor at the city’s ‘skyline.’ ” That morning, in May 1974, the 65-foot schooner Mistral, just completing a four-day passage from Bermuda, lay alongside the dock waiting for the customs officer to grant its clearance into the United States. As Heon and the other deckhands stood beneath the yellow quarantine flag and from afar, admired the town they had never seen before, everyone standing on the dock gaped at the beautiful two-masted Mistral. At a time now called the dawn of the modern tourism era in Newport, the unheralded and demure appearance of this L. Francis Hereshoff-designed wooden yacht in Newport, just one of many such wooden vessels making this their port of call, was arguably among the best attractions the city had to offer. To these photographers, there is no question that classic wooden boats still are.

Akin to something like love at first sight, a glance from stem to stern across a scrubbed teak deck or a peek through a porthole at the captain’s mahogany-paneled cabin makes your heart say to itself, Aboard this boat, I can sail away to beautiful places…I can never sail to anywhere and the boat is a beautiful place all its own.
“What makes wooden boats so special, whether you’re a boat owner or a boat builder, is that the wood is a living substance – it’s alive, organic,” says Carl Cramer, publisher of Wooden Boat magazine. Like everyone who speaks or writes about wooden boats, he is involuntarily romantic. “Boats are made out of any number of materials, all good, but only wood gives the boat a different spirit.” The hand of the craftsman who built that boat is present, as well as the hand of the sailor who took her to sea. Neither fellow is likely to be more or less passionate about wooden boats than the other.
Yet, in wood’s sublime beauty, there is also noble tragedy. “Wood rots,” says Heon, who has since become the owner and restorer of his own vintage wooden boat, and he points out that even shipshape wooden boats nonetheless proudly bear their past in ways that fiberglass or metal vessels do not. Look closely at the mahogany on that yawl’s tiller or wheel. Take an extra moment to inspect the brightwork on the runabout’s rail. Lean over to really observe the individual planks on a sloop’s teak deck. Study the gentle curves of a plain, unvarnished oak cleat on a schooner’s bow. What your mind’s eye will see is that while deterioration may be present in the wood, the priceless patina of age, durable use and practical care are all simultaneously evident as well. “Every wooden boat,” says Heon, “has an interesting story to tell.”

They all start out as trees. Then, shaped by the minds and hands of craftsmen, they become wooden canoes, dinghies, rowboats, skiffs, sailboats, lobster boats, luxury yachts and, at the extreme, ships – wholly aesthetic and fully functional at the same time, with an appeal that appears to be somehow profoundly pinned to the human psyche. At the International Yacht Restoration School in Newport, Clark Poston, the program director, says that in his view, the universal allure of a wooden boat is precisely about the perfect union of form and function. Even people unaccustomed to thinking nautical, Poston explains, can sense that to make that distinct “boat shape” out of wood requires a high level of craftsmanship. “We can see that’s it’s made by hand,” he says, “and there is an inherent attractiveness in that. There is also an inherent ‘something’ that everyone sees in any object made of wood – looking at a wooden boat, no matter who you are, you can still relate to the tree.” An inexplicable prehistoric, ancestral and unbreakable bond? Perhaps, says Poston.
Since its inception in 1993, the students at IRYS (eye’-ris, as the locals say it) have restored some 25 wooden boats to full commission, meaning the vessels are back in the water, actively sailing, and not collectibles preserved for display. “We’re teaching people the traditional craftsmanship that creates wooden boats.” Poston says, all but implying that neglecting to pass those skills along to each new generation could and might potentially render the human species extinct.

“Addiction” is the one word Newport wooded boat collector Jed Pearsall uses to describe his passion for the six wooden boats he owns; yet, he considers himself “lucky” that this is the bug that bit him. The fast and lovely 44-foot Amorita, a 1905 Herreshoff New York 30, is the largest vessel in his personal flotilla, and the smallest is a 1920 Herreshoff Watch Hill 15, the petite Emma, a 24-foot sloop which won the Silver Medal in the 1924 Paris Olympics. He collects wooden boats for what he calls their strong and confident “personalities” and for pure aesthetics. In his opinion, they become more beautiful with age. But, he is quick to say, “Wooden boats require an emotional commitment. You get back what you are willing to put in.”
Amorita, built nearly a century ago prompts Pearsall to ponder how generations past went about preserving the boat for him to enjoy today. As he sees it, it is simply his turn to pay the favor forward to whoever will sail her in the future. He calls that his “reward” for the part of himself that he gives up to care for the renowned sloop. “I think about the fact that Amorita,” says Pearsall, “was sailing fifty years before I was born, that she is still sailing, and that she will long outlive me.”
Asked to sum up just what it might be about a wooden boat that tempts him to add yet another hull to his collection, Pearsall says, “Soul.”

“Wooden boats just feel different,” says Newporter David Ray, yachtsman and owner of three wooden boats. “They smell different.”
Ray’s polished and pretty Ahab, a 33-foot motorlaunch which was originally built in the 1920s as a lake boat, is his “commuter boat” for sipping around Newport harbor. Ray equates owning a wooden boat to owning fine antique furniture. There is an aesthetic involved, he says, that has a lot to do with having good taste.
His Alden-designed Hinkley-built 65-foot yacht Nirvana has been an icon in the world’s oceans since it was first built in 1950. Formerly owned by Nelson Rockefeller, Ray bought it about 20 years ago from the former vice-president. “It’s a classic yacht, but I don’t baby Nirvana,” says Ray, who regularly races he locally, in the Mediterranean and in the Caribbean.
Although his Ahab gets regular use ferrying Ray and his guests between Bannister’s Wharf and Harbour Court (the New York Yacht Club), and although he pushes Nirvana hard, neither one of these two has ever had a total refit. “They’ve just been well taken care of,” he says,” and the thing is, that with a wooden boat, if you need to you can tear out a plank and make another one just like it.”

At Newport’s Museum of Yachting, now in its 20th year of operation and recently named one of the nation’s top ten maritime museums by Sailing magazine, visitors can take a close-up look at more than two dozen wooden boats that are either on display in the galleries or in the water, still actively sailing.
The Museum is the host site for the 2004 Wooden Boat Show this July. Coming home to where it started, the event marks the tenth anniversary since Wooden Boat magazine first became involved with the exhibition. (Prior shows had been organized by the Newport Yachting Center.) WB magazine’s publisher and show promoter Carl Cramer says show goers can expect everything: This year’s event is featuring more than one hundred boats and equally as many exhibitors and vendors at Fort Adams State Park. In-water and on-land displays run the gamut from sail to powerboats, from paddle to rowboats, as well as from old and classic to new and contemporary.
Also on the agenda, Cramer says, is a commemorative note that it has been 30 years since the now-classic-in-its-own-right Wooden Boat magazine first debuted – the announcement and presentation of Issue Number One was a highlight of the 1974 sailboat show in Newport.
David Brown, MOY’s executive director says, “Wooden boats provide a reassuring connection with the past and contribute to the romance of going to sea in a way that steel, aluminum or fiberglass cannot. Visually, few things appeal to the eye more than a wooden boat with graceful, traditional lines, a freshly painted hull, and gleaming varnished spars.” He speaks as if he personally knows the special comforts that wooden boats offer sailors, weary from a long passage and the hardships of life at sea. He says, “At the end of a voyage when the vessel is safe at anchor once again, nothing else is as quite as warm and welcoming as the cabin of a wooden boat.”

LIFESTYLE 1

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CHANGE ARTIST

by Anita Rafael

Here is a simple question to ask yourself when your home decorating dilemmas have brought you to a creative standstill: What bold choices would you make for colors, fabrics, furniture and accessories if everything you arranged could be redone in a month, or say, in a week? The design solutions that come to you might surprise you, and at the same time, finally let the inner artist in you break free from the rules of design-book decorating.

“When it comes to decorating, for me nothing is carved in stone,” says artist-home renovator Sandy Tarr. “It’s the biggest mistake people make … thinking what they do or what their interior designer does has to last forever.” She claims she knows people, but politely won’t name names, who once their interior decorator has placed the designer soap in the designer soap dish, and put the designer silk-flower arrangement in the designer vase, never dare to touch them for fear of being caught breaking some decorating law. “It would be scary to redo a house,” she says, “if I thought my choices had to last forever.”
Tarr, who has restored and decorated nearly a dozen homes for clients and for herself, offers a straightforward lesson in liberation to anyone paralyzed by the fear of making a decor blunder. “Start with change in mind right from the start.” More importantly, according to her, the number one rule is that there are no rules.
“Never decorate to follow someone else’s idea of what a bedroom should or should not have in it, or what a living room should or should not look like,” she says. “It takes all the fun out of it.”
Clearly, however, Tarr does not decorate either by rules or by chance – by whim, maybe, but not with a haphazard hand. Each of the 10 rooms in her 1790 Historic Hill house are a meticulous composition; each item large and small, old and new, hard and soft, precisely placed for reasons evident only to her. Yet she says, “It’s all temporary.” An accomplished painter, textile designer and of late, art print retailer on the web, she instinctively collects beautiful things and surrounds herself with them. She says that she has, in fact, rearranged a whole room just to enjoy it that way for an afternoon.
“When my eye no longer finds the room interesting to look at,” Tarr says,” I change it… I like to move things.” It is a lesson every would-be home decorator should learn. All the furniture and accessories Tarr owns that are small enough to move from place to place are likely to be rearranged on a regular basis, including the paintings and prints on the walls.
“You’ll notice, “ she says, “that most of the artworks in my house are ‘leaners’ … they just lean against the walls so that I can reshuffle them any time.” Buried somewhere in her artistic vision for her home is the long-lived gene of an Old Master’s eye for detail and nuance. Getting up from her worktable where she has been quietly painting a seascape, she crosses the room to purposely nudge a seemingly unimportant household object barely half an inch so that it will be in its “right” place.

Ever the artist, she confesses that she has a particular passion for assembling interesting vignettes simply for the pleasure of being able to look at her treasures and enjoy them each time she enters or passes by a room. Anything she sees or feels can instantly inspire her to take valuable time away from her easel or her design computer to fiddle with the layout of a room. It can be an idea she saw in a magazine photo or a scene in a movie that sets her creative energy in motion. Suddenly, down come the heavy curtains in her bedroom, out goes the red oriental rug, gone are the flowers in the French wine jugs she uses as vases. Choosing from her vast personal inventory of interesting and unusual objects, things which run the gamut from priceless folk art treasures to everyday flea-market finds, she recomposes each tabletop, every shelf, windowsill, hearth and corner until she has created her version of a another domestic work of art. “It is like painting,” she says.
“When I grew up,” Tarr says, “ the only things people put on their coffee table, for example, were things that had a sensible purpose … an ashtray, a lighter, a candy bowl, always with the candy in it, a family photo in a frame.” In Tarr’s sitting room, on a small English-made table, rustically hand hewn in dark, polished wood, are five objects: a huge carved wooden bowl, a old Shaker band box, a smaller marquetry wooden container and two antique pie-cutters. She says, “My tables and shelves are filled with groupings of objects that I like to look at, or it has to be something I like to touch. I like the contrast of things and looking at how the materials, colors and shapes are both the same and yet different. It doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but me.”
It would give anyone trying to decorate their own home a great boost of confidence to see how in Tarr’s remarkable home, good decorating taste is not about the acquisition of expensive designer trinkets and rare antiques. Beauty and pleasure for her are quite obviously found in the simplicity of the most ordinary objects.
“I like plain wooden bowls, primitive paintings… mostly portraits…blue and white porcelain, ironstone china, boxes, baskets, metalwork, tables and chairs, and,” she says, “I love textiles.” She advises do-it-yourself decorators to select a few things they can respond to with great pleasure and start there.
“Everybody has at least one thing they like to look at… it doesn’t have to be an expensive art object. It could be a seashell, or something that has sentimental meaning to them. Make that a focal point, then add more of the things that please you,” Tarr says. “If you don’t like it, just change it.”

Most of the furniture, art and antiques Sandy Tarr has in the Samuel Yeates house, which was one of the early Operation Clapboard projects and is on the National Register of Historic Places, came with her from homes where she lived before moving into her Newport house in 2001. She spent almost 30 years in New York City, followed by a shorter stint in Pittsburgh. "Every apartment, co-op condo or house I had before this had high, high ceilings,” she says, “so the only things that I did not bring with me to this old gambrel-roofed colonial are the tall things, such as big cupboards, that just would not fit through the door.” Although she has moved time and time again, she has parted with very few of her prized possessions, noting, “I think I have kept at least one desk or one table from every place I’ve ever lived or visited.”
Walking through the hall and into the dining room, Tarr sweeps her glance around the entire space, where the table, mantle and china hutch have just been rearranged to make room for her to display the newest additions to her antique pewter and reproduction porcelain collections.
“Look!” she says, with astonishing delight, “Nothing matches!” It is true, but the same time, for her and for her alone, every single thing appears to be exactly where it always belonged, and, like her, it is all completely at home.