Tea for One

Tea and me have a long history. My mother is an avid tea drinker, and I suppose you could say that we lived in a tea soaked household. I can’t remember my fist cup of tea, but I can remember on very special afternoons when my mother would take little me on a trip to Boston’s Park Plaza Hotel for high tea, served in the most perfect flowered china.

When I moved to New York City some years ago, one of the first places I was taken was West Village’s Tea & Sympathy, an authentically English tea spot, where they serve afternoon high tea, complete with finger sandwiches, and scones with clotted cream, and the most delectable fruit jam I’ve ever tasted! They are, by all accounts, a tiny little joint, and I didn’t mind waiting for as long as it took to get a table, and afterward, visit the gift shop next door for PG Tips, Branson pickle, and any other English exports I’d been missing.

I’m Boston born and bred, and I often blame my Beantown heritage for my fascination with tea. There’s hardly any tea incident as infamous at the Boston Tea Party in 1773 when, three ships loaded with tea attempted to port in Boston Harbor. Refusing to pay the tax, the governor of Boston essentially told them to sit there until they were ready to make his demands. And so, on that fated December evening, King George ordered British warships to block any and all ships heading in or out of Boston, blocking the harbor until the tea was paid for. Even though Boston’s trade would be ruined, Boston still refused to pay for the tea! Legend has it that a group of colonists disguised themselves as American Indians and went aboard the ships – and threw the tea into the water. Talk about taking matters into your own hands!

Tea, in its most natural state, is such a beautiful color wheel. When I lived in Sunnyside, Queens, I used to take a trip to the tiny local Lebonese grocer for a small cup of sweet Lebonese tea – the perfect pick-me-up, and something I make at home as a special treat for guests, or just for myself.

Because I love tea so much, many generous folks over the years have given me the most remarkable tea sets and tea pots. It’s tough to choose my favorites, there are so many. (There are so many, in fact, that many of them are in storage!)

This pot was made by Tiffany’s, and though new, has a traditional feel that makes me feel proud to use it.

When I was in Chianti recently, I picked up these delightful, diminutive creamer and sugar bowl, so small they’re best for “tea for one”.

A long time ago a dear friend gave me these antique sugar bowl and creamer. The design is painted in genuine gold! (They’re beautifully paired with my Tiffany pot, don’t you think?)

I loved these tea pot and tea bag charms so much I made earring out of them!

For centuries, tea has been thought as a cure-all for illness. Everyone knows that green tea is loaded with anti-oxidents, but did you also know that black tea has healing properties, too? Tea contains polyphenols known to fight cancer.

This ginger tea recipe is the perfect remedy for an upset tummy (ginger is a fantastic digestive agent). But it’s also remarkably tasty. Give it a try:

4 1/8 slices of fresh ginger
1 small sprig of fresh rosemary or fresh mint, or 2 strips of lemon peel
½ tsp. of honey

Add to a cup of boiling water, and allow honey to dissolve. Voila! Instant goodness. You can even ice it in the summertime.

All I know for sure is that nothing beats a strong cup of tea on a cool spring morning. It’s a soothing drink which never fails to make me feel at home.

My Own Private Walden (Part 1)

When I was a little girl, about 9 or so, my teachers piled me and my classmates into a rented yellow school bus and shuttled us off to Walden Pond. What they assumed to be a life altering experience turned out to be a faded memory of boys teasing girls, grotesquely muddy shoes, and a stagnant small body of water which served as the catalyst for punishment, when bored little boys began throwing things in it.

What I remember most vividly was reading the book with such strain and anguish, being consistently reminded by our teacher how lucky we were to live in the same state as this historic cabin, noting time and time again that Thoreau was an “important man” and we’d appreciate this experience later in life.

Needless to say, the true meaning of Thoreau’s naturalist excursion into a simplistic existance of solitude, silence, and the importance of self-reliance were completely lost on a bunch of snot-nosed pre-pubescent punks – including myself.

It wasn’t until 2008 when I picked up the book again did I finally absorb its true meaning, and recognize the importance of taking that time to preserve the part of us we can’t see – our soul. Living in New York City, you become so completely detached from nature a trip to Central Park feels like a country outing (if you can secure the correct permits, mind you!), and the seasons only serve as a pesky intrusion mother nature forces on all of us, trying to thwart our immediate agenda.

Flash forward nearly three decades from my first Walden encounter, when I’m on a flight to Cleveland (yes, Cleveland!) in search of my own private Walden.

When one says the word “Walden” the first thing to come to mind is definitely not hot tubs and two-hour massages, but for me, that’s the impression it leaves now. Spa Walden, located in Aurora, Ohio, is essentially, heaven on earth.

I was greeted not with the challenge of building my own one-room shack by hand, but rather with mimosas, served with a smile. I was further greeted with fresh fruit in the room, jazz, and a glowing fireplace.

Now, you’re saying to yourself, I know it’s called Walden, but is there really a valid comparison here? Yes, I say! A recent study by the Wisconsin Medical Journal reveals that women who go on frequent vacations are all the better for it, happier with themselves and in their relationships. Talk about self-preservation!

In these tough times you may not, admittedly, have the cash flow for a spa. But of all the places I’ve been all over the world, Walden is a true diamond in the Midwestern rough. This is not Cleveland like you think of Cleveland. And you get more bang for your buck here than you could ever imagine. The hotel—gorgeously recently renovated, with a stunning and roomy bathtub for two featured in the center!—screams equal parts quality and romance. How many times have you walked away saying to yourself, “That was a lot of money, but I guess it was worth it…” Instead here you walk away saying, “I definitely didn’t pay enough for what I got! Shhhhh! Don’t tell anyone!!!”

I was very lucky to have secured a session with Wellness Coach Barrie Rosencrans, who, for the first time, told me that I could eat more!

Sound too good to be true – check it out and see. I dare you to commit to a full weekend of relaxation, strolls in an enchanted forest, horseback riding, couple’s baths, hour-and-a-half facials, and just loving life. In these troubled times, you can’t afford not to!

Who Do YOU Love?

Some time ago, after a rather inspiring and expensive personal feng shui consultancy, I purchased an overly life-sized portrait of Audrey Hepburn. The iconic print was a result of a self-perceived permission granted by my consultant, who instructed me to acquire inspiring images and place them, as per the cosmos, strategically around my apartment. I realize now that channeling Breakfast At Tiffany’s was never part of any particular apartment-cleansing plan, but rather an excellent excuse to cover one entire office wall with one of the most charming New York City movie images of all time.

When I moved last summer, I wrestled with the heartbreak of having to put some of my most treasured possessions in storage. My beautiful little chalet was big on coziness, but not so for wall space, and the country ambiance simply didn’t call for Audrey’s distinctly metropolitan pose, regardless how picturesque. She joined pleasant company in storage, including Fellini’s La Dolce Vita, a ‘50’s Vogue print, and an original John and Yoko Rolling Stone cover -- you know the one, where they’re embraced in a pose so perfect and powerful that it speaks love throughout the ages.

For years I’ve had a fascination with icons, so much so that without realizing it, I’d tear and clip every interesting face and pose I could find, wondering how and when a savior by the name of decoupage would come and preserve my pics for posterity.

One day I had the idea to put all of these amazing mugs into pendants. The result was a museum of phenomenal faces throughout history. From Marie Antoinette to Joan of Arc; Katherine Hepburn to (you guessed it) her cousin Audrey. Sue wears Barbra Streisand, Lisa wears Jackie O, and Phyllis – Louise Brooks. These ladies were not afraid to choose favorites, and say it loud and proud!

The little portraits are perfectly content to sit in their solid metal pendants, whether they’re around your neck, or simply a trusted talisman. Who wouldn’t want Jean Harlow as their guardian angel?

My friend Nicole has an interesting combination – Bettie Page and Botticelli’s Venus. (I think they’re rather appropriately paired, don’t you?)

The biggest challenge I have is letting go of my favorites. It’s easy to see where my alliances lie.

Whether we want to admit it or not, we all need someone to love, right? Maybe we can’t wear our heart on our sleeve, but a little pendant never hurt anyone. Who do you love?

Happy About Feeling Blue

Blu, azul, bleu…no matter how lovely it looks and sounds, few ever boast about feeling blue. Except me. Not in the usual down-in-the-dumps traditional interpretation, mind you. I supposed on this particularly gray day today, I’m longing for all the beautiful blue accoutrements that give this coolest of colors a warm association for me.

It’s strange when you think about it that the expression feeling blue carries the connotation it does. After all, blue skies don’t make you feel dreary. In fact, psychologically speaking, blue is supposed to have such a calming effect that it makes the time pass by more swiftly. Perhaps that explains why, when I’m laying on a Caribbean beach staring into its crystal blue waters, time flies right by without a care in the world. (Or, could it be the pina coladas…hmmmm…)


I’d never experienced “blue” before or since the strikingly serene Greek Islands. I suspect it’s the distinct contrast between the white-white buildings and the blue-blue water, but this magical combination evokes the feeling that one is floating on a cloud in the sky.

When someone spots you wearing blue, it’s supposed to subliminally spark confidence. (Ever heard that you should wear blue on a job interview? That’s why.) Forget about policeman uniforms, and the navy “power suit”. Think whimsical, bright blue, like this turquoise 3-strand necklace I made, with all the blue stones and crystals I could find.

Cobalt blue glass is thought to have been around since the middle ages, but it was an 18th Century chemist who labored to capture its rich color and establish an easier method of production. Here I’ve strung deep, translucent cobalt blue disks together, separated by the most perfect baby pearls.

The reason brides wear “something blue” on their wedding day isn’t strictly just to give them more to fuss over…it’s because blue was once thought to ward off evil spirits. I have a whole collection of bridal jewelry called my Something Blue collection. Some of it really is blue, like this quartz and gold necklace, the stones have the lightest, clearest tint of aqua…

Look at how brilliantly the light flashes through these Swarovski crystal earrings!

Included in the collection is this crystal and rose quartz necklace. (“Where’s the blue here, Liza?!” you ask?) Well, just as blue carries such deep meaning, rose quartz is thought to be the stone of true love. And in my opinion, anyone and everyone getting married could use a little extra luck on this important day!

Regardless of all its benefits, there are some things in the world that should not be blue…like food. I’d hemmed and hawed over including pictures I’d found from a “blue food festival” and then realized that viewing them would indeed bring arouse a sorrowful connotation.

There is one food, however, which is perfect in its bluest form, every which way: blueberries. Though blueberries are a North American original, they’re perfectly integrated into many fantastic recipes from around the world.

There is absolutely nothing to make your gray skies bluer than the perfect Italian torta. Don’t forget to drizzle the honey on top… (I don’t think I need to justify why – do I?)

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup butter softened
1 teaspoon freshly grated lemon zest
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
3 eggs
1/2 cup apricot preserves
1/2 cup raspberry preserves
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
4 cups blueberries
1 teaspoon honey
Powdered sugar to garnish
1 mint sprig to garnish

Combine flour, sugar, butter, lemon peel, lemon juice and eggs. Mix until ingredients gather into a dough. Working on a lightly floured surface, knead until dough holds together and is pliable, about 3 minutes. Shape into a ball, wrap in plastic, and refrigerate about 20 minutes or until firm.

Heat oven to 350 F. Lightly grease and flour an 11-inch round tart pan with removable bottom.
Roll out dough and place evenly in pan. Remove a small piece of dough from edge, roll into a ball, and use to gently push dough into fluted edges. Bake in preheated 350 F oven, about 35 minutes or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool in pan on wire rack, about 30 minutes.

Heat apricot and raspberry preserves in small saucepan over low heat, stirring frequently, until melted. Stir in vanilla. Remove from heat and let cool slightly, then spread over crust. Pour in blueberries, spreading evenly in shell. Drizzle with honey, and sprinkle with powdered sugar. Place mint sprig in center of cake to garnish.

:-)

I can’t think of a true blue better excuse to buy buckets of organic mirtilli…can you? A whiff of this delectable, mouth-watering treat would ward off the most severe case of the blues…guaranteed. Buono mangiare!

Welcome to My Che Bella! Blog

Hello and benvenuto. We all live such frenetic (if not insane!) lives, running every which way and then onto the next. This blog is meant to encourage all of us to take a deep breath, open our eyes and embrace the beauty in everyday things.

Why Che Bella!? Why not its English translation: That’s beautiful?! Ah, well…I’m delighted you asked. Allow me to explain.

As you’ve probably guessed, I grew up in an Italian household, embracing every aspect of its culture. My grandfathers, on both sides, were 100% Italian, with my mother’s dad from the Northern region (landing in the United States in early adolescence), and my father’s from Sicily. “Lentini” isn’t just my last name; it’s also its own province in the south of Sicily, and one of the very few not located directly on the coastline.

To say that everything Italian is beautiful is an understatement. It’s also lush and historical, romantic and – delicious. I can trace my childhood through the various stages of learning how to cook. My father’s mother was not Italian, she was Lithuanian, but her meatballs rivaled the best I’ve tasted anywhere in the world. My mother always says, “I had you making meatballs in your highchair!” and knowing her, I don’t doubt it’s the truth. I have the fondest memories of eagerly straining to stand tall next to my mother, measuring the ingredients with such care and accuracy, only to have her tell me, “Everything about great food can’t be measured…you have to have a feel for it…and a taste…you just have to know.”

The first time I landed in Italy was August 2004. I stayed at a hillside villa in a tiny town just outside Florence. I’ll never forget the way the flourishing, rolling hills, at every stage of the day, alerted all of my senses to what true beauty was all about. It was so natural and understated, yet simple. From the clarity of the golden afternoon, to the bats that visited the pool as the sun went down. Every second of the bel giorno, your senses are awakened and revived. That’s real beauty.

I’ve been to Italy every year since, and never, not once, tire of the experience. No matter how many menus you master, no matter how authentic your accent is, Italy itself is not something you can recreate anywhere else. It’s a lifestyle which, in my opinion, remains unable to be fully captured by American life. (Perhaps I should speak for myself -- my American life!)

That’s not to say you shouldn’t try! The best way to start would be with the food. (Why? Why not????!!) We all can’t be like my mother, and my grandma Eva, feeling the food to be sure it’s delizioso; for some, including myself, that feels like wizardry. What we can do is embrace recipes which appeal to our sensibilities, and avoid the stress – stress would be so anti-Italian!

I lifted the simple but fantastic recipe below from my favorite website: Dominomag.com. I’m sure we’re all mourning the loss of Domino – and while the website’s still up and running I wanted to post a recipe for a quick and tasty spaghetti with raw puttanesca sauce.

The Ingredients:

Serves 4
· ½ cup extra-virgin olive oil
· 4 garlic cloves, peeled and cut in half
· 6 plum tomatoes, chopped
· 5 anchovy fillets (about half a tin), finely minced
· ½ cup pitted black olives, drained well, chopped
· 1 tbsp. drained capers, chopped
· 4 sprigs fresh parsley, stems removed, chopped
· 2 sprigs fresh oregano, stems removed, chopped
· 1 tsp. crushed red pepper
· 1 package spaghetti (1 lb.)

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Meanwhile, place the olive oil and garlic cloves in a small bowl and let sit to infuse the oil. In a large bowl, combine tomatoes, anchovies, olives, capers, parsley, oregano and crushed red pepper. Stir well. Add spaghetti to boiling water and cook, stirring occasionally, until just al dente. (See package for recommended cooking times, then cook one minute less than lowest recommended time.) Remove garlic cloves from the oil, discard them and add oil to the large bowl. When spaghetti is done, drain it and add it to the large bowl too. Toss well. Serve immediately.

Worried about carbs? Supplement the spaghetti for a low-carb variation. I promise you won’t taste the difference. Now there are no excuses! This is such a simple recipe, and with a bottle of wine on a perfect spring afternoon, you’ll be living la dolce vita in no time.

But the biggest aspect of Italian living, is learning to slow yourself down. And sometimes it’s the hardest thing to do. Some slow themselves down by speeding themselves up, whether that’s via running, biking or their favorite treadmill. For others, yoga and meditation help strip away their daily stresses. For me, its my writing and charity work that keeps me centered -- and an annual jaunt to my favorite Tuscan town.

No matter what it is for you, always remember that we’re here to make the most of life, so it wouldn’t hurt to stop and smell the fiori once in a while, if not every day, as much as you can.

What brings out the dolce in your day? Tell me! I want to know -- sinceramente.