Tea bowls

 

When I've stayed with French families, I discovered that at breakfast they served tea in bowls -- coffee comes later. Later I had to fight with my editors of Murder in Paris and Murder in Argelès when I mentioned bowls -- not cups -- of tea. I won. the word bowls was put back.

I've never seen bowls of tea in cafés anywhere in France. They may exist but I haven't found them.

However, when reading Louise Penny mysteries set in Quebec, characters can get a bowl of tea in a café. Maybe it is a Canadian cultural thingie. I never had breakfast at home with a French Canadian family, so I don't know the custom.

When I lived alone in the Nest, my beloved studio, a morning bowl of tea was a delight, but I got out of the habit and went back to mugs.

My wonderful husband brings me tea in the morning: ginger, black, vanilla and other aromas all of which are so pleasant to wake up to. When I mentioned bowls instead of mugs, he switched to our regular squat bowls.

Everyone who knows me knows that I'm not one for buying things. Keep me from clutter, but part of me yearned for a really pretty bowl to match the wonderful morning smells and taste. I mentioned it as a particular idea for a birthday present. I also mentioned we could check vide greniers (flea markets) to find the perfect one.

He was not impressed with the idea but had the let's-humor-her look he has perfected over the years.

Two days ago I found one, not at a vide grenier, but where we went to buy dog food for Sherlock. This morning I had my first bowl. It met my three criteria for adding something to the house.

1. Beautiful
2. Memory
3. Useful

 I took a photo, but wasn't aware that there was a reflection of one of our paintings in the tea, just building on the memory part of my tea bowl. I look forward to many more morning bowls.

Rick should be reassured that I don't need diamonds, emeralds, furs, cars, etc. to make me happy. Sometimes a simple, bowl is enough. Or books.