Two interests have really become pronounced over our last three and a half months of cohabitation. The first of these is a near-weekly hunt for plates and bowls and glasses at our numerous local charity shops. We've passed the point of needing anything and are now just there for kicks and cheap, cheap thrills. Admittedly, while we both enjoy foraging in these musty shops, I'm more focused on kitchen/table accoutrement than J. I have years of living like a nomad to make up for. I want some pretty bowls again.
But display is an issue. I just can't bring myself to mount our plates on our walls or make some kind of rack. I'm still in my twenties for goodness sake. I don't really want to just have them stacked in out cupboard either because I have a particular fondness for things that have been hand painted and I'm worried about chips and damage. The solution so far has been a careful pile of just the prettiest ones on an open shelf so I can still look at their edges. I think they should probably star in some future posts. This blog will be my virtual plate/glass/bowl rail. Are you excited?
So let's start with the wee glass above. I liked both the curvy shape and the grandma lily pattern and the pair of them cost me a pound. I love to drink from glasses without stems. With the exception of champagne or a very dirty martini, I want my booze in a stout tumbler. These glasses are perfect for imparting elegance while still remaining planted firmly on the table, snugly in my hand. My aesthetic choices are sometimes dictated by my klutziness.
And this glass can mostly be found drowning in port, our second prevailing interest. Sometimes sherry. Fortified wine is one of our more frequent visitors these days. Our justification of this habit is as follows:
1) Health - I like to drink but I don't want to drink too much and die a horrible alcohol-related death. This is a difficult conundrum. While I always try to not drink for a few days of the week, the nights that I do drink I often exceed the blasted recommended intakes. Of course I do. The limits are ridiculously low. I had a routine appointment with a nurse the other day (who also happened to be a nun) and when we discussed my drinking I cited pretty realistic numbers but said I knew it was too much. She told me that I was doing my best and drinking within the government limits "was pretty much impossible". Thank you, Sister. Anyway, in recent experiments I've discovered that one small glass of port does it for me. It feels the same as a couple of beers or a glass of wine or two, but more like a special treat. Two glasses feels like gout. I'm just not going to over-indulge on port.
2) Economics - Fortified wine is always on sale. You can routinely find a 10 quid bottle reduced by 50% (clearly we drink unfashionably. whatevs). If you combine a pretty low price with a reduced level of consumption, you quickly have savings. And we love being cheap more than we love each other. That's actually, sadly, true.
3) God, it's lovely. Sometimes when I'm sipping port I try to think of other flavours that I like more. I don't often find any. Especially now that it's cold and dark, it's probably the best thing in the world. Or at least the best thing in the world that you can buy at Sainsbury's (don't worry, Mom, your still tops).
A recent conversation:
J: Port is so much better than wine.
K: Yeah!
J: It doesn't taste like (pulls a painful, puckered face)...*
K: I know. I think those are the tannins that makes wine taste like that. Maybe there are less in port.
J: And it feels so warm when you drink it.
K: I know! It's like it loves you and it's giving you a hug when you swallow it. I love port and it loves me!
J leaves the room as my delusions have outmatched his patience. But really, what other drink can provide you with such a fulfilling relationship?**
*We drink cheap wine.
** Please note, this is just effusive, not dependent. Don't worry. I'm really drinking less these days.
