She ran an experienced eye - rarely taken in - over everything in the room, and lunched in solitary bliss, with a smile for the dry Vouvray and for the June strawberries, served, with their stalks, on a plate of Rubelles enamel as green as a tree-frog after rain.
Colette: Chéri.

(reading Colette is like drinking wine outside on a warm day - always more potent than you realize.)

Rubelles enamel plates, mid 1800s: 1 + 2.