I am so very desperate for authentic connection. Evenings where phones are set aside and completely forgotten. Nights where the conversation is so captivating, discovering it is past midnight feels absolutely impossible. I crave seating arrangements that inspire the very best banter, menus that nourish the soul and laughter that echoes in my dreams for years to come. I want my dinner parties to feel like living memories, shaping the way that we immerse ourselves into these livable experiences constructed and curated out of visions and feelings that I hope to forever hold on to. A flash of authenticity in a world that feels more and more contrived and generated rather than lived. To build evenings that feel like a deep breath, a step into a new world entirely has always been the goal, but, now, more than ever, I feel as though I must dive deeper. I simply have to design worlds in which we can escape. Fully immerse. A place where dreams can live on forever and one’s imagination is set free.

There is a certain type of romance that is so perfectly synonymous with wintertime. The way that the sunrise dances across a foggy morning, the slumbering garden kissed with frost and glittering under the ice blue light. How dusk brings with it a hazy mist, blanketing the evenings as we drift from violet to azure and finally into a rich navy scene. These are the nights that are built for crackling fires and dinner parties boasting decadent menus and moments that illuminate one’s soul and warms from within. A time for gathering and feasting and relishing in the slower, more intentional moments that winter seems to demand. I have fallen in love with the beauty of the season time and time again. Being swept off my feet by cozy nights that follow rosy cheeked adventures, where a mug of hot cocoa piled high with whipped cream is the only way to properly defrost and crackling fires seem to suspend time with each pop and snap of the flames – Pockets of magic that are designed to melt the chill away, inviting moments of reflection, love and togetherness. 

I love a blustery autumnal day. One that leaves you craving a hot cup of perfectly spiced apple cider, a good book and crackling fire. Those are the types of evenings that I melt into with ease, happily hibernating in a dimly lit sweater cocoon – All snug within an intentional, richly toned aesthetic life until the first thaw of spring. This is the feeling that I want to emulate for my dinner parties this time of year. The sense that, as a guest, you are wrapped up in a blanket of cozy comfort foods and stunning seasonal tablescapes, warming the wind kissed nights with bits of conversation and dishes that nourish and ignite your heart and soul. Simply put, I want my life to have an internal glow this time of year. Like a fire that pops and crackles to life with every thoughtful recipe and little moment that I create for myself and loved ones. This, to me, is the enchantment of autumn, the comforts and charms of this magnificent season. 

It is that time of year again. A time when we settle into moody, dusk blanketed evenings and nights that are richly painted with tones of amber, chocolate and chilly blues. A time when indoor comforts become a haven and food is not simply about sustenance, but rather a stage for merry moments of connection and enrichment meant to be shared. For me, this is what Thanksgiving and festive feasting is all about – Reaching into the darker, seemingly hollow nights and pulling from the shadows, something full of warmth, decadence and comfort. 

I have long been in love with autumn. A most elegant season, all dressed up in chocolaty jewel tones and perfumed with the scent of damp earth, decaying leaves and wood burning fires… It is no wonder that, once again, October has completely captivated my attention. With its effortless beauty and the forever shifting scenes of golden light and transforming foliage, I find myself melting into fall’s misty mornings and wind whistling nights. Tempted into candlelit, novel reading hibernation by steaming cups of tea and bowls of homemade soups, falling in love with longer shadows and the song of the rustling leaves that lull us into this cozy state. A period of rest, a time to recharge. It is a season of cozy charm and of chic richness. It is a time of year that simply feels like coming home.

For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be a witch. Wished that one day, my magical powers would reveal themselves and I could step into an unknown yet perfectly familiar place. That I would eventually live in a little cottage in the woods with a leather bound spell book, a roaring fire and a silky black cat, casting broomstick silhouettes over full moons and lighting candles by gently blowing on the wick – It is a whisper of a wish always in my heart. A magical dream that is forever etched onto my soul, no matter how impossible or impractical. I simply have always known that I was meant for magic.

As the September light washes over the lingering days of summer, I am reminded just how perfect each season can be. The final flush of the garden with its determined blooms and the concluding burst of produce all write the closing sentences to the chapter entitled ‘summer’, a season facing its final bow of the year. These quiet days before the arrival of autumn are full of splendor and reflection. A collection of moments to be transformed into memories, flavors begging to be preserved and safely tucked away, patiently waiting to be cherished once life has settled into the depth of our upcoming season of hibernation. September is a beautiful finale… A golden tasseled curtain call for summer.

July always feels extra nostalgic for me. Memories of the long days of summer from my childhood sometimes seem to be the most vivid. The scent of sunscreen and a slight tint of green in my hair from afternoons submerged in chlorine, the beauty of sun-ripened strawberries and homemade pies, and sprinklers in the yard and the taste of water from the tightly coiled green garden hose. I can play horseback gallops and diving board moments in my head on a loop as though watching family video tapes with an old VCR. Memories that flicker, at times, so clearly that I feel as though I could reach out and touch them.

I have an undeniable love affair with Parisian bistros. The charm, the classic menu, the pomp, the apero culture, le café au lait, the waiters who either love me or roll their eyes at me… j'adore tout! I cannot help but be pulled into this city and the vibrant energy it emits – the rich culture and the way that they just know how to live is envyable. And most of all, I adore how they eat! 

Craving an evening in Paris, I had to bring a taste of the experience to my little boîte à bijoux. A moment in a classic bistro with a few french staples that I cannot live too long without. Moules Frites, an uncomplicated green salad and bien sûr, mousse au chocolat.