Soul Food Love
Peanut Chicken Stew
Congressional Cookbook: The Junior League and the Congress
Library Desk: Doors and Desks
Sleigh Bed: Texas and Louisianna
Keepsakes: Earth Stars and Sky Stars
Portrait Table: Icebergs and Angels
Battle of Nashville: Slaves and Soldiers
Maid of Honor Portrait: Three Third Grade Bridesmaids and a Sexy Brilliant Woman Priest
Red Dining Room: Table and Chairs
Jubilee Singers with Lavender: Alfred Stieglitz and Fisk
Mirror Portrait Caroline: Caroline and her Portrait
Sofa: Couches and Dreams
Silver Coffee Urn, Saul Martin Portrait: Zelda Sayre and Gatsby
Harlem Chairs: Tammany Hall and Harlem
Tuskegee Wardrobe: Brownies and Smithies
Portrait Chair: Harper Lee and Sigourney
Dear's Ice Cubes
Working Library: Cynara and Windsor, and Hope
Me and My Blog
Fort Pillow Massacre: Nathan Bedford Forrest and Madison Smartt Bell
My Boots: Nancy Sinatra and Roy Rogers
Longpage, 1913: Stephen Stills and Frank Lloyd Wright
Cold Cucumber Soup
Six Cases of Cookbooks: Julia Child and Caroline Williams
Magnolias: Magnolias and Magnolia
Statute of Alexander Pushkin: Pushkin and Othello
Take The Ow Out Of Now: Buddha and Nietzche
Stars and Bars: Stars and Stripes and Stars and Bars
Joan's Nicoise
New York Times Editorial: Copyright and the First Amendment, or Margaret Mitchell and John Seigenthaler
Soul Food Love

    Red Dining Room: Table and Chairs

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    When we moved into this house the one piece of furniture I aspired to possess was a dining table that seated at least fourteen. My best friend Mimi had a table for fourteen in her Soho apartment. I loved that table. 
                 Our table seats eighteen. Parties are bigger in the South. We fill it up often. Every year we give a breakfast, babies to old ladies, a Saturday close to Christmas. Every year I invite each of my classes over for a meal. I’ve had my Links chapter over for a meeting and dinner and for a holiday party. We had too many fundraisers  and dinner meetings for various arts organizations to count but I do remember a Swan Ball auction committee dinner, and a Opera afterparty and a Broadax Theater fundraiser with particular fondness. We’ve had sip and sees for babies, including Tony, Jim the Boy, Early’s daughter  Clara; and sip and sees for grownups who move to town and need other-than-work-friends. Every year there are birthday dinners for the people who live in the house and birthday lunches for people who don’t. I make breakfasts for troubadors passing through town and I make breakfasts for politicians staking their claim to my vote. We’ve had patriotic song sings; meals for hungry kids on their way to Bonnaroo; and meals for hungrier kids on their way back from Bonnaroo. We’ve had the Harvard Club over for pizza and the Harvard Club over for crimson cocktails and the Harvard Club over for hummus and shrimp. And there are wedding showers and  baby showers. My very favorite shower to date was for our neighbor who lives across the street, Amanda. Amanda is the mother of Aria my Godchild and the wife of Carter who made the desk and kitchen table. Women came from all over the country for Amanda’s babyshower. We served corn herbed in tinfoil and baby artichokes and Prince’s Hot Chicken. The shower was not our only Little family function. We hosted an engagement dinner for Carter and Amanda as well. And a thirtieth birthday party for Carter’s older brother Courtney. My food imagination was on an uncommon but not rare cutesy jag at the time of Courtney’s birthday. We served Tennessee caviar in martini glasses with the number 30 cut out of cream cheese on the top. It was the most appallingly literal and delicious appetizer. And of course there’s Thanksgiving and Christmas and Easter and New Year’s Eve.
                One of the most interesting things that happened on the table was the two months that we couldn’t use the table to serve food because Courtney and Carter (both of whom are gifted musicians and writers), and I were sorting out two thousand cards, each with the name of a favorite country song, into a few hundred themes and then into eighty-seven on the table top. Those piles turned into our book My Country Roots a Mp3guide to the best recorded country songs legally available on iTunes.
                 There are only scraps of fabric in our dining room: No carpet. No drapes. No upholstery. No table cloths. We do have cotton napkins. The room is indestructible. Anything spilled or dropped gets swept or mopped. Some nights we shove the table to the side of the room, fill the tabletop with wine and mason jars, pull in a band and call the house Bar Blair.
                 If the house is rocking don’t bother knocking.