Caramel Cake

By Rosanna's eldest daughter, Alessandra Wollner

For my 13th birthday, my mother made an extraordinary cake. I can’t recall why she decided to make this particular cake for that particular birthday, but after she did, there was no going back. Since the advent of my thirteenth birthday, I’ve had a decade to explore the vast realm of birthday cake prospects. Despite the staggering array of options, I’ve stayed faithful to one cake. Without fail, I have demanded and enjoyed the same extraordinary cake on every birthday since my 13th. 

What makes this cake special is the pitch perfect way in which the flavors harmonize with each other. The salty, sweet, buttery notes of the caramel frosting melt into the slightly savory, nutty essence of the cake crumb. My mother has awarded this cake with the highest accolade she bestows on food, calling it “Ambrosia of the Gods.” My great grandmother just called it Caramel Cake. 

For the complete recipe, as well as the continuation of this blog post, please visit the new location of Rosanna's Table Talk at http://rosannastable.blogspot.com.

Nesting: Part 2

By Rosanna's eldest daughter, Alessandra Wollner

A few weeks ago I wrote a post called Nesting: Part 1. It explored the experience of setting up house in one’s first “Big Girl Home,” paying special attention to the magic formula that makes a house a home. 

The recipe, I’ve found, is endlessly adaptable and more than amenable to improvisation. 

I discover new ingredients every day. The best part is that these ingredients show me how to combine them so that together, their contributions make this new home sing. 

Here are some words to describe what I’m talking about:

Sleepover Magic

I want to live in a space where guests feel supremely comfortable. In fact, my secret goal is to make them feel so comfortable they never want to leave. When guests end up feeling that good you know what happens next—sleepovers! 

Making people feel welcome is a priority. Having a place to put them is an imperative. I don’t have a guestroom yet. Somehow, that never seems to deter our friends from bunking down. Besides, extra sleeping accommodations that are finagled rather than formal seem like much more fun to me.  To arrange your own ad hoc sleeping arrangements, consider buying one of the following: 

Sleeping bag and inflatable camping pad

Air mattress

Futon

Extra-wide couch

Fold-out couch 

Each space asks for a different approach. It depends on the room and furniture you have to work with. Extra sleeping space in Magic House came to us in the form of a large, overstuffed green couch from our local second hand store. Like the house, the couch is magic. It’s so inviting that to look at it is to hear it issuing its sole command: 

“NAP ON ME. NOW.”

Magic House, meet Magic Couch

Dishes For The Masses 

Always have enough dishes to set the table for a crowd. Being the daughter of a dinnerware designer and therefore guaranteed free dinnerware for life, telling other people to make sure they have enough dishes might be a little insensitive. Let me qualify that statement: 

Having lots of dishes doesn’t mean owning 20 identical place settings down to the fish forks. Just make sure you have enough surfaces for people to eat off of. Mismatched settings don’t have to be a last resort. It can very easily look deliberate. In fact, my favorite dining room aesthetic is mismatched vintage silverware. Making your own set is a simple matter or rescuing it from your local junk shop and investing in a jar of silver polish. 

Also, make sure to have a collection of real dinnerware—ceramic, porcelain, melamine, or bamboo—whatever. It may look like a hodgepodge in the cabinet, but once the table is set, it won’t make a difference if not a single plate matches. You’ll be surprised how far a little intentionality can go.

My mom's ode to mismatched dishes- Boho Holiday

I like mismatched silverware.

Systematize Your Sounds 

iHome, subwoofers, floor speakers—do it an way you want, so long as it amplifies sound. 

Like ambient lighting and original art, audible music plays a crucial role in the creation of an atmosphere. While you’re at it, whip up a handful of go-to playlists for different kinds of gatherings—brunch/drinks/dinner party/partyparty/outdoor picnic/teatime/late night rendez-vous. 

Bring the World Home. 

I spent 1/3 of last summer in Morocco. While there, I sat on the ground a lot. I loved the laid-back feeling of Moroccan floor seating. Sitting on the floor instantly makes thing less formal, more egalitarian, and a little sillier. After traveling through Morocco, an incredible, fulfilling, and profoundly educational experience for me, I knew I wanted floor seating in my home.

Let the world make impressions on you. We’re all just little lumps of clay waiting to be shaped by our experiences, right? Create a living space that incorporates the places, people, and adventures that have impacted you. This is what makes us who we are. Keeping them in front of your face, and part of your daily life can become a potent reminder of selfhood.  

My sendup to Moroccan floor seating

I didn’t realize it at the time, but when I wrote Nesting: Part 1 I was a little cuckoo. Completely in the clutches of homemaking-mania. Fortunately, an enforced nesting hiatus due to a trip to Seattle gave me some valuable perspective on process. 

Before the holidays, I was running around like a frantic squirrel to secure every single solitary element that would transform this naked space into Magic House. I toggled between hunting down the vintage typewriter I’ve been fantasizing about to securing a decent-looking kitchen table (both of which, by the way, we still don’t have). I was Veruca Salt from Charlie and The Chocolate Factory; I wanted it all and I wanted it now.   

By the time I left for Seattle, we had most of the basics—a couch, a coffee table, beds, ambient lighting, towels, pots and pans. Wine glasses. Like I said, the basics. As I looked around at what we had accomplished, this Something we had already whipped up out of Nothing, I thought, “For now, this is enough. More than enough, it’s good.”  

There comes a moment in moving when it’s time to stop pushing. We have entered that phase. Now that the sundries are all here, it’s time to allow our home grow into itself on its own terms and time frame. 

I still have dreams about how Magic House will eventually look. And make no mistakes—we will find that typewriter. Someday. 

For now though, what we have is more than enough. In fact, for now it’s perfect. 

And guess what? 

It feels like home.

Me and Patrick, my lovely friend and roommate

Nesting, Part 1

By Rosanna's eldest daughter, Alessandra Wollner

About a week ago I signed the lease on my first post-college house. Despite the house’s quirks, I’ve fallen in love. From the moment I stepped across the threshold, I could feel it inviting me to fill these rooms, to make a house a home. It was an invitation I was more than happy to accept. 

It’s a big thing, moving into the first home of one’s own. Throughout this process, I’ve devoted significant psychic energy to one question: 

What makes a house a home? 

Nearly every waking hour finds me working on the answer to this question. The more I mull it over, the more answers I find. For now, here’s what I’ve got: 

Name Your Home

In Morocco, people name their houses—Dar Dmana, Dar Zaman, Dar Malek, Dar Afram. In Arabic dar means “house.” Morrocan transplant and writer Tahir Shah devoted two whole books to depictions of life at Dar Khalifa (The Caliph’s House), his home hidden deep in the heart of a Casablancan shantytown. 

I like the idea of naming a house. It acknowledges the fact that every house has a personality and a story, like us. Naming your house works the same way a pet name does; it deepens your fondness, drawing you closer to the object of your affection.   


Everything about our new house, from the inlaid wood floors to huge, verdant garden, feels charmed. And somehow, each furniture piece and decoration we add looks like it belonged here all along. In light of this enchanted environment, it felt natural when we started calling our new home “Magic House.” 

"Dar Danai" 

The Usable Used and the Free Store 

 “Home” to me means a place with soul. Homes acquire soul over time, which is why I much prefer to live in old houses rather than new ones. Magic House was built in 1890. 

The accrual of soul is the reason I furnish my home with previously owned or vintage objects and furniture. Chips and paint scratches welcome. Some people prefer the look of new Ikea products to found objects from their local thrift shop—that’s fine. Aesthetics are, after all, a matter of taste. I will maintain one thing: it’s easier than you think to find what you’re looking for secondhand; you just have to put a little time into the search. 

Almost anything you can imagine wanting already exists out there, slightly used but still perfectly usable. All it takes is a trip to Goodwill and a quick jaunt through ebay to realize that our world is stuffed with stuff. Now that I’ve seen what’s already out there, I find it nearly impossible to justify the purchase of anything new. Buying items secondhand is the way to go. It’s environmentally responsible and pretty fun, thanks to the thrill of the chase. Finding the thing I’m searching for often requires a little digging, but when I stumble upon it at last, the discovery always thrills me. Be forewarned: it’s also a little addictive.  

If you don’t care for Goodwill or flea markets, and lack the patience for online trolling, there is another place you can look. It’s close to home, you never encounter other shoppers there, and the prices can’t be beat. I’m talking about your parents’ basement. I call it “the Free Store.” 

Luminescent, Not Fluorescent

I detest overhead lighting. It’s unpleasant and harsh. Buy lamps. Floor, table, wall, whatever. Use 60-100 watt bulbs. If you’re not in the mood to buy new lighting, at least replace the harsh bulbs in your overhead fixtures with lower wattage alternatives. Full disclosure: these bulbs aren’t environmentally noble like halogen bulbs or fluorescents, but in this case I’m willing to bend my environmental ethics a little for the sake of an agreeable ambiance. 

Candlelight 

This one is obvious, and almost stupidly easy to execute. Here’s how: 

Buy a bag of votive candles. 

Take them home. 

Put them in holders.

Light them. 

If you don’t have holders, light the candles anyway. 

Any candlelight, even naked, adds instant warmth and sophistication to a space. Whenever my friends come over for dinner, they’re always inordinately impressed by the presence of lit candles. At which point I pull out the bag of unlit votives and reveal their country of origin: CVS. 

Original Art 

Original art and ambient lighting are the keys to making a space your own. Original art displays your aesthetic and creates an atmosphere unique to you. Note the adjective here—original art. Van Gogh still lifes, Matisse cutouts, and Warhol Campbell’s Soup prints do not count as original art. 

If you’re worried about cost, don’t be. Original art doesn’t have to be expensive. Take a trip in to your local thrift or antique store. I guarantee you’ll find at least one thing worth hanging on your wall that costs between $5-$50. Another good place to keep an eye out is at your weekly farmer’s or flea market. Local artists often make appearances at these venues to get their work out to the public. Etsy is another place to find a treasure trove of cool, original art. Watch out though—the site is extensive. Sucks me in every time.

My favorite way to procure original art by far is to collect work done by friends and family. When I can, I buy their pieces to support their work. Sometimes though, I get lucky and they give me a painting, print, drawing, or sculpture, much to my delight. A growing collection of paintings by my stepmother, Barbara Van Wollner, populates my walls. Whenever I move, I find a new place of honor to hang a painting by a visionary family friend, Carols Perez. Recently, we received a housewarming gift from Janet Delaney, a photographer who also happens to be a friend, mentor, and the mother of a college friend. Seeing her print in our kitchen every morning never gets old.

I love looking at these pieces and knowing someone I love created them. Needless to say, owning pieces by such brilliant artists whom I personally know also comes with an excellent set of bragging rights. 

By Janet Delaney

By Carlos Perez

By Barbara Van Wollner

Returning to the original question—What makes a house a home?—it’s obvious that our answers will vary; our homes are intimate reflections of our selves. Our homes telegraph our personalities and values to everyone we invite inside. In them we display items that expose our passions and hang photos that reveal whom we love and where we’ve come from. Regardless of how differently we answer that question that inspired this post, it’s undeniable that all of us seek the same essential things from our homes: comfort, safety, and rejuvenation. So—

How does comfort look? 

What makes you feel safe? 

What restores you? 

The key to figuring out what makes a house a home hinges on articulating the answers to these three questions and envisioning them. Once you do that, then congratulations—

you’re home. 

 *Still thinking about what makes a house a home. Check back soon for Nesting, Part 2

Magic House