belle of the ball

Nashville November, Part 2

We love the Elizabeth James. Capital L sort of love. And we is not just me but all the Hardcastles. Well, maybe not Bradley. He's all unemotive teenager these days. But that's not the point. The point is we wanted to do something special to express this love, and Mom in particular wanted to do something special for EJ as she was so immensely helpful in planning her 50th anniversary dinner and generously wouldn't accept any compensation. EJ and I always try to have a meal or a drink together when I'm in town and I was able to turn that scheduling into a surprise party from the family (and including fab friend and EJ's BFF Leslie Roberts Dabrowiak).

Carrington Nelson Fox has taken over as Nashville's prominent restaurant critic, and the Nashville Scene published her best ten picks (I got it forwarded in an e-mail, can't seem to locate it online at the moment), and "Belle" at the Belle Meade Mansion Plantation was included as an excellent new choice for lunch (and now dinner).

While suspect of a museum/historical landmark eatery, "belle" (lowercase theirs in the design) was a beautiful surprise. Belle not only features a kitch- and theme-free formal dining setting, but a menu that challenges the most snobby of diners. Everything about Belle is suitably formal, while somehow retaining a local charm and informal welcome. I felt a little thorny hosting a surprise party with presents and toddler in this dining room, but staff and patrons alike seemed to welcome the festivity.

In this era of plastic water glasses and paper napkins, the service and setting of Belle was refreshingly and contextually appropriately proper. This was nice, as it accented the superb nature of their cooking.

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Brother Mac and Mother Fran______________Papa John enjoys his Bloody Mary
Papa John and I opted for breakfast foods, he ordering the steak and eggs which looked amazing and I for the southern take called the Belle Benedict, which included country ham on some of the lightest and tastiest biscuits I've ever had (so much better than ham on an English muffin!). Baby Leland's "chicken fingers" were large gourmet southern fried chicken breast meat that were the envy of the table. Even the French fries were served in over-sized juleps. But the belle of this ball was the "205 Burger" (I am assuming this refers to our 37205 zip code). Land sakes and all my stars and garters is this a bit of culinary heaven. The 205 burger is a sirloin patty stuffed with braised short rib meat, pepper crusted, with red onion jam and tomato concassé. I can't wait to go back.

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Lelands's gourmet chicken strips__________Leslie and the 205 Burger
The sweet tea, Bloody Marys, and other libations were lovely too. And as for the surprise party, EJ felt the love.


Belle that she is.

Flickr set. Nashville November 2009, Parts 1 and 3.

Party by EJ

Elizabeth James is hands down the best party/event planner I know. And her Christmas parties are legendary.

EJ's style and skills are prominently featured this week in the Style Blueprint blog. Well done EJ. And now I am more inspired than ever to do it right for my 39th!

Oh it's Eighties night, oh what a night

I totally, like totally, forgot to mention how cousin Ashley's 40th birthday/80s party went. It may have been a swank BMCC affair, but the kids brought it to the game. The invitation itself was music an played Electric Avenue when opened.

You may recall Cousin Barry (Ashley's much younger sister) consulted me back in December about her Dynasty/Krystle costume. She came out looking like totally awesome. Photos were all over Facebook the next day. (Photos reposted here are from Carolyn Palmer Thoms and Jennifer Rose Frist. )


Ginger (also a blog regular) pulled the Preppy Handbook off the shelf and her best pink and pastels from the closet and was picture perfect. She even read from the book at dinner.

I was impressed with Jennifer's valley/madonna girl look, and quite so with Bill's interpretation of Magnum P.I...

But the best costume by far had to be Brother Mac Hardcastle, who went as Richard Simmons.

OMFG.

Carolyn Palmer Thombs and Mac Hardcastle

Gag me with a spoon.

And all night, he was in character. He later told me that in that ridiculous getup, he had to be. All night he was kicking and swishing and telling people to work it out ("Oh Honey never wear grey, you'll look like a battleship!").

Jennifer Frist, Mac Hardcastle, Elizabeth James

So freaking funny.

What's more funny is that Carolyn is an exceptional amateaur photographer and took loads of photos. Which she shared with the editor of the social magazine.

By now y'all should be familiar with Nfocus. The January issue was the bridal issue, and I was a contributing writer to a "new bride to be advice column" sort of feature (I'll post that coumn later). On the way to the airport to fly home from the Christmas holiday, we stopped at Mere Bulles for lunch, and I picked up a copy for the plane.

My brother, always tring to maintin his reputation, was slightly agast that his Richard Simmon's appearance made the first sentence of the first copy page in the magazine.

Heh heh heh. Awesome.

I've said it before. I'm the shy one in my family.

A Very EJ Xmas!

I'm rushing off to church to light the advent candle with my family. Don't worry, everything I'm wearing is made of asbestos.

Last night was my favorite annual event: The Elizabeth James Dinner Party.

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A few quick hits before I get out the door:

1. EJ always goes all out. Even if at midnight I have to pop into my parents' house to get more vodka.

2. My DJ skills are worthless on a room full of 40-something stay-at-home moms. The DJ rightly selected only 80s tunes and "new dance hits" from a decade ago. Think "Cha Cha Slide."

3. The people on Facebook are really into it. And so I felt the need to update my status during conversations. Comments would be made during the party by people there.

4. A horde of drunk people can't tell at two in the morning that you've decanted your father's Popov vodka into the Belvedere bottles.

Photos are up on flickr.




And oh yeah, I love this:



You may recall: "This is my smokin' hand and this is my drinkin' hand." EJ couldn't find her smoking glove. That's a half-high stocking.

winging west

I return to SFO tomorrow. Stories and photos to follow.

Clearly, I've been having a good time.




Oh yeah, and Keith sends his love.

An EJ X-mas

Apparently, when your mother swings open the door to your room at 10:15 on Sunday morning and screams "Church?!" --

"No thank you." is not the correct answer.

Thank (ahem) God for long-winded prayer leaders. I totally feel asleep with my head bowed and eyes closed. And I think LBJ is okay with that. He's been raging at his birthday parties this month. That water-to-wine party trick never gets old.

Last night was Elizabeth James' famously fabulous Christmas Dinner Party. As with last year, she had loads of furniture removed and turned every room into a dining room. And again with the fun extras like the snow machines above the entrances/windows, exceptionally entertaining catering staff, and bar treats.

And of course the formal outdoors smoking lounge.


EJ also hired a DJ, who had a great mix of house holiday music. With the house so crammed with tables and people, the only place for him to set up was in the bedroom.


And of course, there was the a hoard of super-fun pretty people (beautiful people both inside and out).

Not gay but so gay friendly.

Cannon may just work it for the attention as he is charming and cute as a bug (as opposed to other unnamed guys who just get drunk and get annoyingly aggressive with the hands and lips.)

And our favorite barmen.

The bar was also stocked with drink labels-- the cocktail equivalent of wine charms. At first I thought we were supposed to label ourselves. I chose "Flirty" but as they were designed to cling to glasses and not fabric, it fell off almost immediately and I couldn't find where it went (only to discover it on the heel of my boot many days later).

In keeping with my title/cards, I went with "Huge Enabler."

"Wallflower?" Hardly.

"Sacred?" Perhaps.
(or maybe it was supposed to read "Scared.")
Click to embiggen.

(Ahem.)

Those two were together on the sheet of labels and just seemed appropriate to keep together.

While there was no snow, there was freezing rain (usual for Nashville at Christmas). Some were caught unprepared and EJ made makeshift ponchos. Very classy.

How I hate to go out in the storm.

(But if you really hold me tight, all the way home I'll be warm...)

I didn't take too may photos of the night as I was having too much fun. The finale, however, did merit a little documentation.

Such as the "overserved" who passed out on the sofa.


EJ gave out blinking red noses as party favors.

Now we're just mocking.

For the full effect of "blinking nose put on the passed-out girl" effect, I felt the need to take a video clip.



Which isn't nearly as funny as the fact that the catering staff started taking photos with their camera phones.

Classic.

Now that's some holiday cheer.

Flickr set.

Steeplechase Weekend Day 2: the Hunt Ball

So Friday night (5/12) was The Hunt Ball. I had been invited as the date/ boy toy of the FABULOUS Elizabeth James. EJ ROCKS! And both "Fab" and "Rocks" are understatements.


EJ looked great. But I do notice that in this photo her fleur looks comically enormous.

We were excited to see some of our favorite people immediately upon entering. Here were are with Zulu Scott-Barnes.


Zulu was so nicknamed by his English boarding school classmates as he is from South Africa. Zulu occasionally identifies himself as an African American. Before marrying one of my best friends and "settling down" in Nashville, Zulu traveled the world as a professional polo player and later dealer in thoroughbreds.

I've attended the Hunt Ball several times before, but this year was far and away the most fun. Either the crowd is getting younger, is getting more of the younger, or I am just getting older and of the age of those who like the Hunt Ball, but aren't associated with a Hunt Club. At any rate, the company was lively and Pat Patrick's Band was as amazing as ever. Their genres for mood music for the various stages of the night were different than usual, unexpected, and spot on. The martini luge was more gimmicky than classy, but it was a welcome attraction. The BMCC also kept dining tables out of the main ballroom, which made for a much better dance space (mood, lighting, flow) as well as allowing more actual space for dancing. And adding a bar inside the main ballroom was genius.

Almost all of the dining tables were outside under a tent beyond the main patio, and the weather was perfect. The centerpieces were also a bright stroke of inspiration. I have seen art cakes around SF, but never in Nashville.



The centerpieces to each table were colorful race hats, and also our desserts. So much better than flowers which block the view of people at your table. And as is rarely the case, these cakes were even better tasting than looking.


Ridley Wills III cuts a hat.

A feast for the eyes and the tongue. And my company a feast for the ears (and also pretty).

Always a pleasure are Susannah (friends since we were four) and her husband Zulu (aka Alec Scott-Barnes).


And luckily for me my favorite cousin Biz was there with her husband David.


Elizabeth and David Dingess

And if you look even moderately closely you may notice one of the family jewels. I do love Biz's taste and she has, or has access to, some wonderful accessories (other than me).


I told her how much I loved her in "Titanic."

Other fun and pretty people at the party:


Trisi and Ken Larish


Kim Simonton, visiting from New York, and the always handsome Mark O'Bryan


And the always lovely Carolyn Thombs, whose husband is ever so patient with our affections and my monopolizing her company on the dance floor.

Of course, there was a jewelry designer there with pieces on display and for sale.


And as brilliant as they are, they are not as pretty or expensive as I am.

Speaking of brilliant, pretty, and expensive, my parents looked fabulous as well:


As I may have said before, I may get my penchant for themes from my Dad. Suitable for the Hunt Ball, Dad wore the Children's Hospital tie I painted for him a couple of summers ago,



and his new hound-handled cane.


Beyond the company, the delectable menu (the BMCC has a new chef who is superlative), and the music/dancing, one of the highlights of my night is when Alice Randall crossed a room to take my elbow and say, "Wilson Hardcastle, I love your blog."

Holy crap. I quickly tried to remember what I had posted recently, and apparently the blood drained from my face as I did so. This is just for fun. And for the dozen or so friends who follow the (my) weirdness that goes on in this City. (Okay, more than 12. I get around 60 to 80 hits a day now.) I know that potential employers and boyfriends read this, as well as my family on occasion, so I try to keep the action here above the belt. But still, I'm just sayin' here. And what I'm just saying isn't exactly meant for the 37205/parental set. Well, it is what it is. Wholesome and Folsom alike.

And, let me tell you, such a compliment coming from Alice Randall, award-winning author and songwriter, is high praise indeed.


Alice Randall and Wilson Hardcastle

Another moment which completely cracked me up was when EJ left the ballroom to join the few but desperate smokers on the back patio. Ever the lady, EJ does not want the smell or stain of cigarettes on her fingers. And so she keeps a single smoking glove in her purse with her smokes!


The smoking glove.

And my favorite caption of the night (not truly spoken, but imagine the southern drawl please):


"This is my smokin' hand and this is my drinkin' hand."

And, saving the best for last, here are my best "overheards" scrawled on cocktail napkins and rediscovered in the morning:

"...saggy bosoms." (these words caught my ear and I started paying attention.)
"Who has saggy bosoms?"
"'Saggy bosoms.' Sounds like bad name for a band. Or an old bluegrass song."
"Isn't that a place near Bersheba?"
"No, that's Soggy Bottom."
"I just like to say 'saggy bosoms."
"I once dated a Sally Bosoms. Popular girl."
•••
[Unremembered unintelligible name]
"What kind of name is that?"
"It sounds dark and uncircumcised."
•••
and my all time personal favorite:
"Who was that?"
"That was [so and so]."
"Isn't he running for something?"
"Yeah, Judge. But he used to shit himself when he got drunk and I just can't see myself voting for him."

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After the party was over, I weighed my options of (1) wisdom: go to bed, get some sleep, and rest up for the Big Day starting in the morning; or (2) wanton: go out to Tribe and be with my other people for a drink and then go to bed. At the bar I met Jake, who had ditched the shirt and tie parts of his tux, but recognized me from the Ball.



Photos on flickr.