THE GOOD LIFE
*Pamela VANDYKE PRICE •• • Those elaborate still-life photographs of 'pre- sents for everyone in your life' have never tempted me to spend so much as sixpence. They seem to pander to the wishes of every- one except the shopper in search of inspira- tion. But maybe I know too much about the way they are taken : for the glossies, mid- July sessions, short-staffed because of holi- days, with press officers snatching back the one bright idea they have produced to be photographed for their firm's catalogue, and the man behind the camera insisting on `Something tall, darling, for the centre.--no not a magnum of champagne, that's a cliche.' Or the newspapers' compilations, with shops ringing up to say they've sold out of a parti- cular line just as you've had the sketches Amide. '
Really acceptable presents—those people like to receive, as opposed to those you like to give '(which you often would prefer to have kept anyhow)—should, in my view, be both magnificent different. If you're in the case of champagne, lois gras en crate, twenty-four-piece Coalport dessert service category, you should either be able to evolve your own inspirations or afford minions to shop for you. But a very lavish present may in fact consist of rather small, even cheap items: any sound eater and drinker could put to long use a dozen or more inexpensive wine glasses—ordinary enough to go with any table setting and able to be smashed (as one's most precious inevitably are), and on sale at chain stores or kitchen supplies (such as
.there are plain, fine linen drying cloths by, the Williamiraguof Shaftesbury Avenue). Then
dozen—so that you can use for rags or just throw away any that get sordid: forget those with maps of the Metro and recipes for boui- llabaisse and get the plain, old-fashioned kind, preferably pre-washed so that the dressing is'otit of them.
I Would alio say a sincere thank you for several small tins of salted peanuts—so that you can give guests the luxury of absolutely fresh ones instead of the leavings from larger tins; half or a dozen bottles of the sort of .
everyday drinking wine everybody needs, however surrounded they may be with pre- cious crus,a selection of cans of exotic soups, or else a basic soup, but the product of seve- ral different makers, so that you could do comparative tastings; several cans of two-'
portions of foie gibs truflee—the glamour snack for the unexpected guest; a can—
they are pretty cans—of. French or Italian olive oil, as large as you can afford, a series of packs of Provençal herbs (by now your own have either got depleted or stale), a bottle or more of good wine vinegar (unless you make your own, when you would appre- ciate a spare vinegar crock to make a different kind), a range of sleek new wooden spoons, a china spoon for measuring oil or anything else (or ideally a pair, large and small), a small wooden spoon and fork for your in- dividual salad; slim china trays sold for holding mints but which would be pleasant used for vegetable 'nibbles' too, and a flat rectangular dish for open sandwiches or canapes—more practical than the round.
kind. (If your local shops aren't helpful, then Justin de Blank can supply a good selection of soups, pates, herbs and oil and vinegar, Elizabeth David herbs, oil, all the spoons and vinegar crocks; and Chinacraft's new Burling- ton Arcade showrooms the mint and sand- wich trays.) Splashing out a bit, why not still assemble the bigger presents out of smaller elements: a pack of several halves or even quarter-flasks of whisky, whiskey (Irish), Cognac and Arm- agnac, Or vodka. or a quarter of gin? Good for the person who can't keep a range of bottles, and more fun than one. single big .
container. You could have a brace of rather superb half-bottles for friends who generous- ly give their best bottles to guests, but who'd relish a fine wine on solitary occasions. 'A standing order for a bottle of sherry, Sercial Madeira or maybe port, to be delivered monthly for as many months as you can afford, but starting after Christmas, would keep you affectionately remembered by any small household, young or old, so would a credit placed at a wine merchant (from £5 up, I suggest), with a copy of the wine list sent for comforting browsing over the .bill- paying aftermath of the holiday, and if you send somebody a stopper that keeps the sparkle in champagne or a sparkling wine (obtainable in fancy form at many stores. but Farrow and Jackson, or Loftus have the plainer kind for under 20s). then those in need. of the jpst piek-me-up in the world can drink it over a day or two, witholit feeling wasteful. Being really grand, you could give a course in wine (The International Wine and Food Society's course costs about thirty-five guineas, the Academy of Wine, run by Hedges and Butler in their seventeenth-cen- tury cellars, about 30 guineas).
And for the present that's practical. luxuri- ous and comparatively unknown, I suggest several cans of Campbell's condensed beef consomme and some vodka, -to make bull- shots—admirable by themselves, suitable for revivers. and pleasvt as first course at lunch, brunch or supper. flare's how: chill th% con-
somme (I like mine actually solid); and put it in a small chunky glass or elegant cup. Sprinkle with a little popper, lemon juice, .tabasco if you like it (I don't, I have sesame salt) and potir on a dollop ,of vodka. Use a spoon to.mix if the am somme is firm. (The ideal would be one can of consomme to a double measure of vodka each.)
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