Writer and culinary historian Jessica B Harris talks taste

My personal style signifier is my jewellery, which is somewhere between Sammy Davis Jr and Mr T. I have a pile of ivory bracelets that I bought when I was in Africa in the ’70s. And I have a combination of clamshell beads called wampum that were tender under Native Americans here in Martha’s Vineyard. On my other wrist I have five gold bracelets made by my mother, who became a jeweller at 70, and today I’m wearing a coral necklace. Most of my jewellery comes with history; I collect stories.

The last thing I bought and loved was a piece of blackamoor jewellery, which I know is very controversial these days. It’s an ebony and ivory head of a man, a watch seal, who has been done so delicately and – I think – with love. There are historians who might differ with me, but I’m going with my story. To me, it presents a kind of regalness and dignity.

The place that means a lot to me is where I am now in Martha’s Vineyard, in a house my parents bought when I was nine years old; I have one friend I’ve seen every summer since. I call it my watermelon house, and I have a stained-glass watermelon piece I commissioned a local artist to make. I’m in Oak Bluffs, which has been a summering spot for African-Americans for more than 100 years. It’s my happy place.

My tastes were arrested in the third grade, so I like gummy bears. My dentist loves me

On my Instagram “For You” page you’ll find all kinds of strange things: cat videos (I’ve had Siamese cats most of my adult life), food videos and, for some bizarre reason, Nigerian weddings. Then I get all of the strange animals: Brindabella the wombat; the newly adopted elephant at the shelter; and a strange bald parrot who shows up periodically. @drjessicabharris

One of the best books I’ve read in the past year was from my favourite shop here, Portobello Road. I found a first edition of Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin, who was born 100 years ago: I had the honour of knowing him. It’s part of the LGBTQ+ canon, it’s part of the African-American canon – and it’s certainly part of the American canon. Something that brings all three of those things together is sorely needed at this point in time.

In my fridge you’ll always find wine – pinot noir or burgundy – butter, salad greens, bacon and too many condiments: chutney, pickles and all of that, which makes for a very full fridge. They live in the back and make their way forward, usually in time to be thrown out. 

My style icon is a composite of folks. Diana Vreeland, bizarrely: she wasn’t a beautiful woman, but she understood style; Schiaparelli would also come under that heading. I like the jewellery style and something of the personal style of Millicent Rogers. And, of course, Josephine Baker goes without saying.

The best gifts I’ve given are food or alcohol – lots of bottles of wine, and recently a nice Calvados. Many of my friends are my age, so they don’t need another thing to dust. And they have their own personal style, so I don’t want to buy them something I think is gorgeous but they’re going to look at and go, “Hmm.”

And the best gift I’ve received recently is about 14 pounds’ worth of fish from The Martha’s Vineyard Fishermen’s Preservation Trust, all iced down, scaled and gutted. On the Vineyard it’s what we call scup; in other parts of the US, it’s called porgy. I’m going to distribute some of it to friends; some of it I’m going to freeze; and some of it I’m going to eat fairly immediately: an old-fashioned fish fry or steamed with ginger, scallions and a drizzle of soy sauce.

The last item of clothing I added to my wardrobe was part of my addiction to Hermès cashmere and silk scarves. My favourite one is by Kermit Oliver who, to my knowledge, is the only African‑American artist to have designed scarves for Hermès. He used traditional American themes – this one is of Native American dancers – and they’re lovely. 

The last music I downloaded was “Put a Woman in Charge” by Keb’ Mo’, featuring Rosanne Cash. It’s a wonderful song. And it’s really – what should we say? – appropriate right now. 

I have a collection of arcane antique tableware: a Victorian fish slice and fork from Blarney Castle in Ireland; grape scissors; fruit forks and knives. If it collects dust, I collect it. My favourite thing is what the French call a manche à gigot: a handle that goes over the bone of a leg of lamb so you can slice the meat against the grain. I haven’t done a lot of entertaining recently because I’ve been too busy working and crazy, but I like setting a table.

I don’t know if I believe in life after death. I kind of do, but it’s kind of “Up in the Air, Junior Birdmen”, touchy-feely. I mean, I’ve met people I know who I’ve never met. So there’s some kind of spiritual something going on there.

An indulgence I would never forgo is caviar. I like Sevruga because I can’t afford Beluga. It’s my New Year’s ritual: I buy as much as I can afford, and as the clock strikes midnight, I spoon it in. I don’t worry about blinis or crackers or anything like that. It’s the way I pamper myself. 

The best way to spend $20 is on candy. My tastes were arrested in the third grade, so I like gummy bears, wine gums and liquorice allsorts – all that kind of stuff. My dentist loves me. 

My favourite room in my house is my living room. I have a chair I call “Command Central” where I spend most of my day writing. My computers are in a box next to it and there’s ginormous pile of books that I periodically have to cull.

The artist whose work I would collect if I could is Romare Bearden, an African-American artist who did a lot of collage. I’ve been thinking about trying to buy one: it’s in the realm of possibility, but not immediate reality. In the realm of total impossibility are Goya or Toulouse-Lautrec; I like the theatricality of their works. 

The beauty staple I’m never without is perfume. I’m not a make-up wearer, but I love fragrance. Right now I’m wearing Diptyque’s citronelle and geranium scent, which is supposed to repel mosquitoes; L’Artisan Parfumeur’s Tenebrae; and Hermès’ Eau de Pamplemousse Rose. Artisan Parfumeur Tenebrae, £205 for 75ml. Diptyque Citronnelle & Geranium Body Spray, £48 for 100ml. Hermès’ Eau de Pamplemousse Rose, £100 for 100ml

My favourite website is Wordle. I’ve also discovered, to my surprise, that there is a French version: Le Mot. I always start out with the same word, so unless “adieu” is the word, I’m not going to get it in one. I’m one of those down-to-six-letters kind of people.

The things I couldn’t do without are friends. As an only child, they’re what sustains me. We sit and talk; we eat together. All of it. But sometimes it doesn’t necessarily require conversation. It may just require presence. 

The best souvenirs I’ve brought home – if we take “a souvenir” in the French form of the word, meaning a memory – are times in Paris with my French family. As a student in college I did a year abroad and I lived with a family of 38. It was a very different and wonderful experience. I lost touch with them, but I went back after 20 years and we reconnected. Now I go to Paris every year in January and on my last night I have dinner with my French family at Brasserie Lipp.

A way to make me laugh is wordplay – sometimes it’s an awful pun, sometimes it’s just a great turn of phrase. Recently I saw the film Thelma, where the heroine is played by a 96-year-old actress. It’s the first time I’ve consciously laughed out loud in a long time: there’s one scene where they talk about what she does during the day, and it’s her putting pills into her pill container. The older you get, the more it will resonate.

In another life, I would be doing something closer to what I’m doing now. I was a college teacher for 50 years; writing was what the kids call a side hustle. Getting around to being a writer has been a big switch for me. On my Instagram page it says, “enjoying a retirement renaissance”. That pretty much sums it up.

I am inspired by just about everything. Honestly, I’m an idea generator. I just want enough time to take care of all of them! 

The best bit of advice I ever received takes us back to Baldwin. I remember him saying, “Step out on the water. Who knows, you may find out you can walk on it.” I think that’s incredibly encouraging and kind of wonderful.  

A Kwanzaa Keepsake and Cookbook: Celebrating the Holiday with Family, Community, and Tradition by Jessica B Harris is published by Scribner on 5 November