Rituals for One
"I decided that even on weekdays, I'm going to drink the good bottles of wine."
We are sitting in the lofty huddle of Uccellino on a Friday night. My girlfriend is telling me about how it's a damn shame that she spent so many years drinking "cheap" wine alone instead of uncorking the good stuff on the nights she decided to enjoy a solo indulgence. She has a wine collection that would make most oenophiles rejoice. And yet, she explains how in the absence of company, she habitually drinks lesser vintages just because it seems a waste to crack open the good stuff. I make a joke about how we both can't comprehend the "problem" that a half finished bottle of wine poses.
As she divulges her new affirmation that she is going to honour her own company with the deliberate enjoyment of a carefully curated bottle, my mind quickly wanders to the Lobmeyr coffee set I've left to collect dust after their 4,800 mile journey on my lap. Morning ritual, especially around coffee, is the simplest and yet most rewarding part of my morning. In an attempt to bring more pleasure to a daily occurrence I decided to revive some the of 17th century charm that Viennese cafes perform so perfectly by bringing home a coffee service set from Vienna. The Wiener Melange is the best known collectible from the family-owned company that boasts a long standing relationship to Austrian royal families and their homes. The service begins with a glass of still water, a dollop of heavy cream whipped into shape for the dark coffee, and a small piece of chocolate or praline, depending on your mood. The beauty is in the stacked simplicity of the glassware: the water glass rests as a canopy over the ceramic coffee cup, topped with a small ceramic divider to keep the cream separate from its final resting place. It is a precious object to me.
The handblown Lobmeyr water glass is paper thin, threatening to shatter in over zealous grip or mindless knock. The porcelain coffee cup scalds my fingers and lacks all refinement and protection that a simple handle offers. But that's not the point. These objects are a reminder to slow down. The coffee is only enjoyable if I allow it to cool while I read in bed for the half hour I promised myself. The tap water tastes better, I swear, when I drink it from the sharp edge of the coloured glass. The entire act is defiant, as if to say, "So what if I break it while I'm using it? It's far worse to keep it in the tomb of my bar cart than to allow it live precariously in meaningful service".
Friends, shake off the cobwebs from the objects that bring you joy. Let them have the spotlight even if they shine only for you. Indulge in "rituals for one". Happy 2019.
