Per Redbookmag.com
The Smith Residence in the San Fernando Valley is on a serious piece of property. As I bumble along a path that doesn't, as it happens, lead to the front door of the sprawling, low-slung adobe-style home, a walkie-talkie-equipped member of a plainclothes security detail appears to guide me to the entrance. Framed by masses of potted succulents, the Moroccan-inspired wooden door leads to a large open foyer, a preamble to an airy sunken living room where Southwestern and African elements blend comfortably and the window looks out onto a large pond. The place is grand, but warm and eclectic. I am led to the dining room, where the table has been set.
When Jada Pinkett Smith arrives, the first word that springs to mind is petite; her body is lost inside black sweats and a giant black T-shirt with a heavy-metal band's logo splashed in red: Mnemic. It takes only a few minutes of conversation, though, for Jada to become larger than life. "I don't know what's in here," she says, using chopsticks to airlift one of the intricately bundled dim sum dumplings left on platters for us by her cook. "All I know is it's not pork and it's not cow. I don't eat those." Her conversation swoops and glides from the serious to the silly, her voice from barely audible to dinner-party loud. Profound observations about relationships and motherhood are leavened with a laugh, and when an idea tickles her, she claps her hands and hoots.
The Smith Residence in the San Fernando Valley is on a serious piece of property. As I bumble along a path that doesn't, as it happens, lead to the front door of the sprawling, low-slung adobe-style home, a walkie-talkie-equipped member of a plainclothes security detail appears to guide me to the entrance. Framed by masses of potted succulents, the Moroccan-inspired wooden door leads to a large open foyer, a preamble to an airy sunken living room where Southwestern and African elements blend comfortably and the window looks out onto a large pond. The place is grand, but warm and eclectic. I am led to the dining room, where the table has been set.
When Jada Pinkett Smith arrives, the first word that springs to mind is petite; her body is lost inside black sweats and a giant black T-shirt with a heavy-metal band's logo splashed in red: Mnemic. It takes only a few minutes of conversation, though, for Jada to become larger than life. "I don't know what's in here," she says, using chopsticks to airlift one of the intricately bundled dim sum dumplings left on platters for us by her cook. "All I know is it's not pork and it's not cow. I don't eat those." Her conversation swoops and glides from the serious to the silly, her voice from barely audible to dinner-party loud. Profound observations about relationships and motherhood are leavened with a laugh, and when an idea tickles her, she claps her hands and hoots.
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