Ceramics

These were everywhere in farmhouses around the Luberon a hundred years ago — every family rendered their own duck fat. Now you find them stacked in barns, dusty, behind broken chairs. This one has a fingerprint pressed into the rim from whoever made it.

Every brocante in Provence has a shelf of these and most of them are sad. This one isn't. The blue is right — that very specific French country cobalt — and the handle has the satisfying weight of something that was actually used every morning for fifty years.