Drinking Coffee out of Fine China

In my novel Imaginary Brightness, about the Durants, a pioneering family who develop the Adirondack wilderness in the late 19th century, I have one of the locals scoffing at the fact that they bring fine china into the woods. I’m not sure, but I think the use of fine china anywhere but at a fancy restaurant is an American past time.

When I was preparing to get married over twenty years ago, my mother insisted that I register for a set of fine china. I thought it was absolutely ridiculous as I had no intention of ever using it, indeed, the only time I ever do is on holidays, and even that is rare.

Yesterday after a morning swim in the lake, my friends and I were drinking coffee out of the cheap disposable cups that we have lying around our house and I recalled what my editor friend in England told me. He said that beverages taste much better when consumed from a cup made of fine china. He gave me a coffee mug made of china and I have to say, he is right. It doesn’t seem to hold the heat as well though.

While telling my friends this story I realized that my teacups, the ones I received as a wedding gift from someone — maybe a relative, or close family friend — whoever it was, thank you, again — have been sitting in a cupboard above my refrigerator for over a decade, hardly ever used. I’m not getting any younger, and I highly doubt my children will care if they inherit these things as they don’t have any loving memories of me pulling it out and using it for special occasions, so today I pulled out two cups and put them in amongst my assorted, none-matching, coffee mugs.

I’m determined to use them, if for no other reason than that they are pretty, and dainty, and they make hot liquids taste better. But most importantly, because I am not getting any younger and I can, if I want, drink my coffee out of fine china.