I ♥ Your Denim Style: Hannah Henderson

If I wasn't so enjoying the "farm version" of my dream life here in England, I would be pining over the "creative California hippie" version that Hannah Henderson and John Moore live in Venice Beach, CA. Well, I'm pining anyway. Their home, their store, their kids, their art, their clothes, their lifestyle all make me swoon. It's all so personal to who they are and what they like. But what I notice above all is how well Hannah does denim. She and her husband seem to be experts on denim both new and old, and they both instagram about it regularly. She is hannahmas and he is bonfirebeachkids. Herewith, my favorite of their denim posts.

I'm so into ripped boyfriend jeans like these at the moment. They're all I feel like wearing. Because it's cold now and don't want the winter breeze blowing in through the holes, I've bought a second pair and had the holes patched up. The look is pretty much the same, but I am much warmer!

Hannah and John own the Venice outpost of the General Store, with the original being in Outer Sunset - my fave neighborhood in San Francisco. Both are original and inspiring, and if you aren't in California, you can still shop there online. I love the overalls displayed in the foreground.

 

I have an old wrangler kids jean jacket from the 70's that fits me pretty much like Hannah's does. It's proven incredibly useful over the years, looking best over a summer dress or under a more tailored wool overcoat in winter.

I love all the indigo/denim shades and textures. You could build a whole wardrobe around this concept.

John's love of denim extends itself to these very cool indigo/denim inspired skateboard decks.

Denim seems to always be a part of Hannah and John's inspiration.

Hilarious.

Life on the Farm: Mourning Murphy

There is so much life on this farm that makes me happy. Every morning the hens are lined up on the bench outside the kitchen window, waiting for our leftover toast from breakfast. Then there are our twin black kittens. I still call them kittens, but they are now full-sized at 18 months old. They are so deferential to my kids' treatment of them - last night Coco built Dizzy a hammock and made him spend the night in it and he obliged her - but then they go outside and they are both badass hunters. The kittens also defer to Ginger, who sees them as competition for food and affection and does her best to ignore them. But they LOVE her and spend a lot of time either seducing her into paying attention to them or stealing her food or her bed. And she lets them.

But the real heart and soul of our farm is the horses. We live amongst these beautiful, oversized, prehistoric creatures. We sit on them as they carry us around the countryside, as if we were flying. We love them. We fear them. We revere them. They live for many decades (often three or more), far longer than the other pets. Last week we had 9 horses. Now we have 8. Murphy died this Tuesday. We put him down. He was easily 30, and he had been losing teeth for years. Each year we would debate whether or not he would live another winter, and he always would. But the stakes got higher and higher as he got thinner and more frail. He could no longer eat the hard food that the other horses enjoyed in the winter. We'd have to soak his food for an hour so he could slurp it up. And even then he couldn't get it all in. His belly would swell from the lack of proper digestion, but his hips and shoulders were so emaciated. When all the other horses trotted across the field, he shuffled slowly, as if in pain. We just couldn't imagine him losing any more weight as he inevitably would this winter.

Murphy had been my niece's horse for a time, and she quickly outgrew him. And then I rode him, and then my little sister rode him, and then our houseguests and friends rode him. He was a fixture on the farm, as was Mr Teddy before him, and as Polo and Sailor are now. They serve us well, and we keep them around long after their prime has come and gone. Each time I drive by them in the field, I roll down my window and say hello to them. They really are our family here.

Christopher and I have never seen a horse put down, and we both felt compelled to watch. It was horrible. Really, truly horrible. But I'm glad I was there to take responsibility for the decision we had made. I managed not to cry in front of the groom and the huntsman, but afterwards I took Ginger for a walk and let the tears flow. Later in the day, I dug up pictures of all of us with Murphy at one time or another. And of course, we have his superstar moment on the cover of the J Crew catalogue. I showed all the photos to the kids at dinner that night. They had cried on and off for three days. But there was this one picture of Murphy trotting across a field, maybe 7 or 8 years ago. Coco couldn't believe that it was him. His happy, healthy self was completely unrecognizable to her. That's when I knew we'd done the right thing.

Even though Zach is not so big on riding, he loved Murphy. It was impossible not to.

We decided that we'd have a family ride last Christmas to say hello to all our neighbours. Murphy was my loyal steed that day. It was muddy and cold, but we had a great time.

My friend Regena loves to ride, and when she visits from New York, we ride every single day, sometimes twice. Murphy was always her pony of choice.

This is my favorite photo of Murphy. I took it around this time last year.

I think it was my little sister Phoebe (on the left) who loved Murphy the most. She spent every summer from age 13-18 with us here on the farm and she always rode Murphy. She thought he was the bomb. And yes that's a young Miss Coco on the pony in the middle. 

I'm tempted to say this was the only time Christopher ever got on Murphy, but actually I remember once when Coco was very very little. I was riding Murphy and Christopher was walking along side us. Coco said she wanted to see a horse gallop, so I jumped down, Christopher got on, and he blasted away up the gallops on Murphy. Coco was delighted.

Young Murphy, in all his glory.

Life on the Farm: J. Crew pays us a visit

This past weekend I returned home from a busy month filled with travel. Waiting for me on the kitchen table upon my arrival was the November J.Crew style guide with Christopher and Coco on the cover! I just couldn't believe it. I knew they'd be in it, and that most of the pictures had been shot at the farm, but on the cover? Holy shit.

Here's how it happened: Last June, Jenna Lyons - who is my friend as well as J. Crew president and creative director - wrote to me saying how much she loved my instagrams of life on our farm, and she wanted to know if J.Crew could shoot their autumn catalogue here. There would be lots of models, and she also hoped to casually include my family and me in a few shots. Sounded good to me. But then I got the dates. Zach and I would be in New York - I had a week full of publisher's meetings lined up in the hope of selling my book, and Zach was signed up for camp. He had been looking forward to this time in our home city for months. I thought for just a minute and then decided I wouldn't torture either one of us with a tough decision. We had made a commitment. We were going. I couldn't imagine asking Zach to stay home for a photo shoot. So off we went. And what a time we had.

But then the catalogue arrived and Zach saw Christopher and Coco on the cover and inside the book. "Hey how come we're not in it?" he asked. When I explained that it was shot during our week in New York he said, "Oh yeah." And went on his way. But he has asked me about it many more times. I guess he has to keep reminding himself how he missed out on this moment of glory.

In any case, I was so happy and proud to see the farm in J.Crew. Christopher and Coco look so at home, and as usual Ginger managed to make her way into the pages. But in my mind the real stars of the shoot were the horses - Polo, Megan and Murphy - our beloved farm family members. Which brings me to a very sad note. Murphy, the cob that Coco is riding on the cover, died yesterday. In retrospect, I am so glad we cleaned him up and brushed his hair so beautifully for a glamorous fashion send off as a cover model. He so deserved it. When my tears dry up I will tell you more about him.

There is no "look" my husband aspires to more than that of a farmer. Well, maybe a gentleman farmer. But for him it's not an affectation. Both Christopher's father and grandfather were gentleman farmers, and he was born and raised on the farm where we live. He wouldn't ever look quite as polished as he does in these pics, but I'd say it's close enough.

Polo (seen above) was Coco's pony until last year when she graduated to her first horse, and now I usually choose to ride him over my moody chesnut mare. Polo is pretty much a legend in this part of the countryside - he has been ridden and loved by many horse-loving girls throughout his 17 years of life at pony club, competitions and on the hunting field. Often when I am out riding, someone I don't know will come up to me and say, "Is that Polo?" and then shower him with love. We are honoured to have him as part of our family.

What other horse would just stand in an open field like that without running off. None that I know, other than Polo. By the way, did you know that a horse that is white in colour is always called a "grey" even if he is stark-white like Polo.

At the moment, all I can see when I look at this picture is that kind gentleman of a horse Murphy in the background.  I will miss him. This picture was taken on the gallops, where Christopher's brother trains his race horses. Sometimes I'll be in the stable yard, and I can hear them thundering up the hill. Our horses can hear it to, and the noise gets them all excited. 

An old Land Rover and a Subaru Forester are pretty much the cars that all farm owners have around here. 

This photo is very like my life on the farm - out by myself giving Polo a workout - except I would be sitting in a saddle and wearing riding clothes! Christopher and Coco do all the glamorous things with the horses, as they are much more accomplished than I am, so I'm pretty much the exercise jockey.

This picture slayed Zach! He was so upset to be replaced by a model in his absence, especially in a pic with his Daddy.

This is my favourite fashion pic from the style guide. I love her look. And I love seeing Polo's well-worn saddle. 

I am sad I missed this part of the summer on the farm, when everything looks bleached out. The variety of seasons here is incredible - much more diverse and varied than back home in New York. Each season seems to have multiple phases that look very different from one another. The changing landscape is what keeps me from losing my mind in the wet foggy gloom.

This picture didn't make it into the style guide, but of course it is my favourite. Jenna sent it to me in a beautiful vintage silver and glass frame as a gift. As if everything else wasn't enough. Love that girl. 

I ♥ Your Style: Gucci Westman

Gucci Westman is a rockstar. As the Creative Director of Revlon, as Grace Coddington's first choice for making up the girls in Vogue, and for Cameron Diaz's go-to girl for red carpet glamour, Gucci is one of the most talented and well-know makeup artists in the world. But that's not it. She is the mother of two gorgeous children, and she's married to super handsome David Neville, co-designer of Rag and Bone. She also has great style. She mostly wears slightly tomboy classics like Olatz piped silk shirts, Rag and Bone jeans and t's, and Isabel Marant tweed jackets. Occasionally she branches out with a Celine or Balenciaga statement piece while still staying true to her own look. I also love Gucci's jewellery - a gold link necklace and gold watch by Cartier, a monogrammed signet ring, and her diamond wedding bands. Simple, classic chic.

Life on the Farm: Kitchen Garden Abundance

Last year I just kind of passively watched as the abundance of farm produce came and went with the summer and autumn seasons. I was too distracted by the move, settling the kids into school, finding a routine for myself, and updating our home to engage in any significant way with the vegetable garden or any of the trees - pear, apple, quince, elderflower, fig, blackberries - that the farm offered up. Granted, we didn't actually have our own vegetable garden last year but on the farm there are two large ones maintained by other family members that I am always welcome to take from. Sure I would dig up the occasional carrots, potatoes or onions as needed, but I didn't even make a small dent in the overflow of fresh food. By last winter I started making jam, and if you read my article in British Vogue about this process you'll know that I used mostly bought fruit, as it was the middle of winter. When the late spring arrived, I found more surplus time in my day, and my husband and I planted a few raised beds of our own in the apple orchard behind our house. We planted arugula (rocket to you Brits), bok choy, rhubarb, brussells sprouts, corn, rainbow chard, peas, spinach, tuscan kale and artichokes. 

My favourite was the arugula. I am an arugula addict. I could eat it with every meal, and to have it there in my garden all fresh, ready to be picked and eaten each day for weeks on end was such a luxury. I found that I planted way too much bok choy. We ate it a few times, but then I ran out of inspiration to keep cooking it, so about half of it went to flower before we had the chance to eat it. The caterpillars got the brussels sprouts. I have cooked rhubarb six ways to Sunday, and I discovered a new favourite soup recipe made with the kale.

Just when I thought I was making headway with all the food in the beds, I returned from our summer holiday to even more abundance on the fruit trees than we had last year. I got through about 2/3 of the pears, eating them fresh and also making compote. I think I probably ate every single fig on the tree bar a few that got attacked by snails. But I have truly failed on the apple front. Hundreds have fallen to the ground. We have so enjoyed picking the occasional one off the trees and eating it fresh, and they've come in handy when the blackberries were ripe for making crumble. This week I am going to make as many batches of apple sauce as I can before they rot for good, but still hundreds will have gone to waste. I figure each year I make progress and next fall I'll be more prepared. 

My final harvest of pears. I picked three baskets like this in one morning, and I knew exactly what I wanted to do with them. Earlier in the spring, my friend Laura Bailey came to stay. She brought me the most incredible jar of pear compote from her garden, and I so enjoyed scooping a spoonful each morning into my bowl of plain sheep's yogurt and granola. Laura was kind enough to share with me the recipe. Here it is: 

1kg (2.2lbs) of peeled pears chopped in cubes - weighed after peeling

300 grams (10 oz) of sugar

Juice of half lemon

125 ml (1/2 cup) water

Half teaspoon cinnamon

1. Bring everything to a boil for ten minutes and then simmer slowly for 60 to 90 minutes until the consistency softens. If the pears are hard, blast with the hand blender at some point during the cooking process.

2. Once the compote texture has thickened (similar to apple sauce) put the mixture into the jars and close with the lid.

3. Place the closed jars in a pan of gently boiling water and simmer for 30 minutes.

This recipe makes about five or six 8oz. jars 

Enjoy!!! 

I was elated when I walked into the garden one morning and realised my first crop of rocket (arugula) was ready to eat.  

My favourite way to eat rocket (arugula) is in a salad with avocado, olive oil, truffle balsamic vinegar, and Ottolenghi's "seeds for salad.

This summer when I was in New York, I had lunch with my mentor in life, love and fashion Diane Von Furstenberg at her studio. As I was leaving she introduced me to her personal chef Jane Coxwell and gave me Jane's new cookbook "Fresh, Happy, Tasty." I have always loved the food Diane serves at her home and was so excited to get my hands on some of her favourite recipes. I especially love this stewed rhubarb over sheep's yogurt for breakfast and have made it a handful of times in the last month. It's easy to cook and gets even better after sitting in the fridge for a day or two. Here is Jane's recipe:

1 1⁄2 cups agave nectar

1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise and seeds scraped out

One 1⁄4-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled

1 cardamom pod

Thin strips lemon zest, each about the length of half a finger

1⁄2 pound rhubarb stalks, cut into 4-inch pieces

Sheep’s milk or other plain yogurt, for serving, optional

1. Combine the agave nectar, vanilla bean and seeds, ginger, cardamom, and lemon zest in a medium saucepan with 4 cups water and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Immediately reduce the heat to low and simmer for 10 minutes.

2. Add the rhubarb and simmer for 3 to 5 minutes, until tender, depending on the size of the rhubarb. Be careful not to overcook or boil, or the rhubarb will lose its shape and fall apart.

3. Remove the pan from the heat and set aside to cool. It’s ready to eat! (I leave the ginger and vanilla bean in because they look pretty, but you don’t eat them.)

I felt like a real city girl when I commented to my husband that the "pears" lying on the ground under one of the trees in the orchard were really large. "That's because they're quinces," he replied. There was just one tree, and I strongly felt that they shouldn't go to waste now that I knew about them. Besides, I had just bought myself Kevin West's great new book "Saving the Season" and I had noticed a recipe for quince paste, which I love to eat with cheese. Only trouble was that the recipe called for quince pulp which was a by-product of making quince jelly. I was excited by the idea of one batch of quinces making two separate products, and so I set about to make both.  Below is a condensed version of the two recipes. If you want more detailed versions, they are in his book. 

The quince is an ugly thing; a knobbly old apple-pear, too hard and bitter to eat; a country bumpkin; a coarse relic; perhaps a puzzle to some. 

But here's what you do: rub off the fuzz until the waxy skin shines and exhales an orchard air. Chop the fruit into a large pot and add the cores in a muslin sack. Cover it with water to a shallow depth, and cook for 90 minutes or more until the fruit slumps. Strain off the pectin stock, and reduce it rather slowly with equal parts sugar and generous lemon juice. You will get a beautiful, rose-nostalgia jelly.

Now take the spent fruit, and press it through a seive, then reduce it with equal parts sugar, generous lemon juice, and white spices—dried ginger, coriander, and white peppercorns ground together. Cook it as slowly as you can for hours or even days until it's dense enough to ball. Pour it out hot to form a thick slab, and air-dry for days or even weeks. What you will have is quince cheese—membrillo where Spanish is spoken—and it is the heftiest treasure of fall.

My quince paste, all wrapped up to give as gifts.

My Sunday harvest from the big kitchen garden on the farm. I roasted the onions and carrots with the chicken I made for lunch. I used the tuscan kale for my new favourite soup recipe. And I juiced the beets with apples and ginger.

My favourite apple tree on the farm.

The farm really saved me the other day when the kids announced they had to bring a carved pumpkin to school the following day. As it was too late to run to the store I was relieved when I remembered I'd seen some in my sister-in-law's garden the week before. 

I have tried so many crumble recipes now, especially during blackberry season. Blackberry and apple crumble is my husband's very favourite dessert. I have ended up combining different aspects of a few recipes that I like and finally feel that I've mastered it. Here it is:

for the filling

400g blackberries

500g peeled, cored and sliced cooking apples

for the crumble

225g flour

2 tsp baking powder

175g soft butter (I prefer Lurpak spreadable)

175g demerara sugar

1. Preheat the oven to 200C/400F. 

2. Arrange the fruit evenly into a baking dish. (Some people sprinkle sugar over the fruit, but for me the sugar in the topping is enough).

3. Sift the flour and baking powder into a bowl.

4. Add the butter and rub in with your fingertips until the mixture looks like breadcrumbs. 

5. Mix in the demerara sugar. 

6. Spoon the crumble on top of the fruit, covering it completely.

7. Bake for 25-30 minutes, until the top is crisp and lightly browned.

My husband's favourite vegetables in the garden are peas. When they are ready he will just plonk himself down next to them and eat them raw until he's satisfied. The kids have now gotten into the habit too. We had a huge abundance of peas this summer, and I didn't get the chance to cook a single one!

One day in June, Christopher mentioned the abundance of elderflower blossoms on the farm. Although I love to drink elderflower cordial in England, I had no idea what the tree looked like. When he pointed to one right in the corner of our garden I climbed right up on the stone wall,  picked a basket full, googled a recipe, and made my own cordial. I have since discovered that elderflower cordial is not only delicious when mixed with sparking or flat water, but it is especially delicious with champagne or mixed into a gin fizz.