As the festive season approaches, the annual ritual of dressing the table begins. My Instagram feed is once again overflowing with a cascade of perfectly – and not so perfectly – orchestrated table settings, and those of us with a soft spot for this demi-art find ourselves browsing specialist shops and flea markets in search of the perfect crockery, or navigating the crowds in department stores under the spell of china and crystal that seem to whisper, ‘I’m waiting for you.’
When it comes to setting the table for entertaining – though why should we do it only on such occasions? – some favour a perfectly matchy-matchy approach, while others prefer to mix old and new finds with ease. Candles and flowers are essential, of course, but fruit and vegetables can make wonderfully unexpected alternatives. Glossy clementines and aubergines, or the intense hues and sculptural forms of pomegranates and artichokes, bring colour, texture and just the right touch of drama to the table.
It may feel like a modern pastime, yet the ritual of decorating the table is far from new. Centuries before anyone coined the catchy term ‘tablescape’, the great courts of Europe staged extravagant feasts where the table itself became a work of art.
The story begins in Renaissance Italy, where infamous families like the Medici, the Farnese and the Este made the most of their wealth by commissioning goldsmiths and prime artists the likes of Raphael to create elaborate vessels in silver and gold, often encrusted with semi-precious stones. Not many of these pieces survive, as changes in fashion or financial pressure often called for melting them down.
These weren’t the only Renaissance extravaganzas that didn’t last. Another, even more fleeting, had to do with a rather unexpected ingredient. Known as trionfi (‘triumphs’), these were sugar sculptures depicting mythological scenes and miniature temples. In theory they were edible, though they were really made to impress. Queen Elizabeth I was famously a sweet tooth – she even used sugar as toothpaste – so they must have ranked high on her table at Whitehall.
By the Baroque age, dining had turned into full-scale theatre. At Versailles, the table’s choreography became as important as the meal itself, with sweet and savoury creations almost blurring into finely painted porcelain, colourful flowers, and tall silver and gold candelabra shimmering in the candlelight. And if you need a little reminder but Paris feels too far, the Marie Antoinette exhibition at the V&A captures some of that magic.
The most dramatic decorations to ever see the light were probably the so-called surtouts de table, magnificent ornamental centrepieces made of silver, gilt bronze, glass and mirror, designed to stretch along the entire length of a table. One of the grandest surviving examples is at Apsley House, or Number One London, the home of the Duke of Wellington. Part of the Portuguese silver-gilt service presented to him after Waterloo, it took 150 men four years to complete and features classical temples, victories and allegorical figures, turning the table into a glittering landscape of triumph.
Things began to change in the 19th century, when manners of dining took on a new rhythm. The old service à la française, with its elaborate display of savoury and sweet dishes served all at once, gave way to service à la russe, where food arrived in courses. The spectacle shifted from the layout to the procession of dishes, but presentation still mattered. Master chefs such as Marie-Antoine Carême, who cooked for both royalty and the rising bourgeoisie, gained a cult following for his monumental sugar creations – part food, part display. He published engravings of his theatrical designs, which circulated well beyond France and opened the world of table decoration to a wider audience.
The 20th century brought a taste for simplicity, yet the tradition of grand table settings never quite vanished, as State banquets at Windsor still prove. Most of us are not feeding monarchs, but laying the table remains one of the most joyful rituals – a small act of care that can turn even the simplest meal into something a little special.
