The Good Plates

Here’s this week’s reflection. I hope it resonates with you and ask that, if you enjoyed, please comment and share on your social media. Heartfelt thanks for all your support!

Keeping the light on for you,

Carol

A recent reader essay in Victoria magazine got me thinking. It was a loving tribute to a set of bone china, recently passed to –and eagerly accepted by– a younger generation. My own cupboards reveal that I am the lucky (though some would label me unlucky) recipient of three sets of ancestral dishware, each with its own pattern and ethereal dialogue of its forebears encompassing joy, hardship, and most notably, perseverance. 

In our chaotic, disposable world, I have found it calming to devote more time to the domestic arts; homemaking, entertaining, and feathering our nest. This dip into more gracious appreciation of slower living offers an important nod to the past. While vintage isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, family artifacts steep that elixir for me. Surrounding myself with beautiful things provides history and context to hearth and home.

While I have decluttered many things from my home in recent years, the sets of china remain, and always will. Their history spans over two hundred years, used by ladies who luncheoned and hosted countless holiday and Sunday suppers. Carefully hand washed and stacked in cupboards prioritized for the “good dishes,” these upscale utilitarian items were cared for with esteem. For some, they were the most coveted of otherwise meager possessions, as having a few such pieces were considered necessary when guests came knocking. My grandmother brought out her best each Sunday to plate her signature pot roast, mashed potatoes, lima beans, and jello mold. The rest of the week was served on melamine, but the sabbath was ceremoniously ended on fine china. 

I met my husband’s grandmothers as a new bride, visiting their homes and farmsteads, surprised at how these women unconventionally delegated the good stuff for everyday use. When asked, one of these wise ladies simply quipped, “They’re pretty – and I hate heavy dishes,” adding stoneware was simply too cumbersome for her arthritic hands to grasp and hoist. She wasn’t wrong; I had trendy stoneware and complained about its heft even though my joints were fine. 

Poundage aside, what struck me was the emotion that good dishes brought to their standard farm fare. Living was simply reason enough to gussy up the everyday. And if that rationale was good enough for a farm wife, it was certainly good enough for me. At the end of the day we still must eat, and it may as well be a solid meal on something nicer than the day may have thrown our way.

Inspired, I too started using my china on more regular occasions, hauling pieces out of their protective boxes and gracing our (painfully small at the time) kitchenette table. Once two babies came along, hand washing was a bit much for our busy schedule, so the pieces were again tucked safely away, proffered only on holidays with utmost vigilance. But once old enough to understand and hold things tightly, our daughters received lessons at my side on how to properly handle and care for such relics. No longer off limits, the good stuff was now fair game, with two sets of small hands helping set a pretty table – all without a dish being dropped. And while there are far more pressing issues for kids to navigate in this world, learning how to handle delicate items would be a useful skill for hands someday holding their next generation.

I have been asked – often with accompanying eye rolls – why I keep all three sets. The immediate answer is “reverence for family history.” I honor and cherish the strong women who came before me, and their inherent beauty as reflected in their personal taste. Getting to use something of theirs offers voice and story and helps educate new generations about yesteryear’s highlights and hardships and what we may take too easily for granted these days. Not to mention, gone are the days when brides routinely register for formal dishes and accompanying crystal. Many now select practical versions appropriate for all occasions, touting dishwasher safety. Despite this trend, each of my daughters has selected a pattern in my stash along with its associated stemware that now speaks to their individuality. I realize this is an unusual luxury to offer future homemakers, but it’s one area I am happy to lay claim to. As did my mother, I inherited (and greatly enjoy) the art of homemaking; my sincere hope is to pass along that tradition – with the vessels needed to present it beautifully.

 A final reason I have kept so many dishes is beautiful sustainability. While ridding our lives of items that no longer serve us to make room for things that do, nesting is a deeply enjoyable part of who I am. Our current home came with a dining room; one of the primary reasons we loved the place. Keeping those dishes was therefore an easy decision, continually giving me pause and a smile every time I look at or use them. I hope my daughters will feel the same as they mix my stories in with the others when they describe past female kin. To my mind, that is the best part of legacy; reverence for family served up around a communal table.

I’d guess that many folks have pieces of the past floating about in any given household stash. If you are so fortunate, dust them off and use them. There is no greater honor than using the past as part of our everyday. And when someone asks, “Why on earth would you use good china on a Monday?!” you can simply smile and reply, “Because I can,” with the knowledge that somewhere in the cosmos an ancestor is also smiling.