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For many years my go-to gifts for friends and colleagues were fairytale Bundt pans and wooden jigsaw puzzles with tiny novelty figures for pieces, often of a fairytale-like stripe (unicorns, damsels, you name it). Handcrafted, American-made, timeless, humble, familial, utilitarian and whimsical, these offerings seemed to be the perfect material incarnation of my notion of holiday spirit, all yummy goodness and light. But then I moved apartments after 20 years, packed up my parent s house (as one does), got schooled on Swedish Death Cleaning, and suddenly thought: Why would I ever impose a Bundt pan on a friend unless I knew for certain that they too enjoy baking elves half-timber cottages? This stuff was heavy. Gifts, after all, should require nothing more from the recipient than joy.
So these days I choose to give items that dazzle...and then largely disappear. Handmade hippy soap, moody artisanal wine, Mitteleuropa micro-sweets, and single-ingredient pamphlet cookbooks are all top of list this year. Most were found while traveling, and a few—Cartier cards—are just my idea of basics. My one lasting imposition on the helpless cupboards and mantels of my pals is porcelain. Tiny bits of porcelain, made by artists I love, that could shatter in an instant but always bring a smile. It s a smidgen of responsibility, and when you inevitably clear house, pass it on.
I found this soap on a recent hiking trip in Big Sur. It s good in the hand, smells delicious, and reminds me of lazy Sunday mornings in Berkeley.
The artist Sue Webster painted the label for this wine, which is made in Tuscany by Camiliano, after her divorce from her artist partner Tim Noble. It is crisp, tasty, and a little weird in the best way. And you can only buy it at Duck Soup, my favorite small-plate and organic vino spot in London s Soho. So get a case. From this Xmas to whenever your friends are feeling blue, break out a bottle and get happy.
These mini cookbooks are designed beautifully, written by pros, full of clever achievable recipes, and just the thing to give anyone who has ever thought "chickpeas for dinner, yikes!"
Altmann and Kuhne makes the loveliest, tiniest one-bite sweets in the world. And then they pack them in jewelry boxes of dollhouse proportions. You have them shipped from Vienna and everyone swoons. Everyone.
Vanessa Hogge s divine porcelain flowers are meant for the wall, but are equally good as paperweights. Everyone needs something of such quiet beauty in their lives. Period.
Margaret Braun s porcelain espresso sets are delicate in every way except their steadfast political spirit. Raise a cup every morning to joyfully (and energetically) fight the power.
If you love the smell of burning wood and turpentine (and want to close your eyes and believe you are a master painter in a drafty castle), well this is the candle for you. Plus it is a gorgeous blue and in a divine porcelain pot....
Who doesn t swoon when a Cartier box arrives? Dying for the panther cards, always....
A salted caramel seven-layer cake, from the deep South, is maybe the best thing in the world. (And they freeze well, too.) I send these to mark every possible occasion.
Handmade surprise balls from Tail of the Yak in Berkeley are pure magic. You can only buy them from this one wonderful store, and they sell out quickly. Not cheap, but who knew tissue paper and charms could cause so much joy?
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I believe every household deserves a black truffle. I believe every fried egg deserves a black truffle. (And every black truffle deserves refrigeration, so send instructions when you gift!)