February 17 2005, 08:34 PM Half

I have discovered a problem with finding delight in plain glass tumblers. I speak here of simple things, with straight sides of clear glass. They are round, or as round as can be usefully made, and the curve fits well into the hand. They have heavy bases that warp the world a little when the drink you drink is done. I do not have a problem with the delight; the problem is no one makes them any more.

They come close to plain these days, but only close. There are clever glass honeycombs in the base, or the sides have a waviness to them that beds light in the liquid. There are traces of tint in the glass: a sober responsible brown, or the cool depth of cobalt. It is somehow out of fashion to make a plain glass these seasons. There were once several sets of good simple juice glasses in the cabinet; I only have one left from the last batch. All of the others have been broken, and I cannot find them to buy them again.

The new glasses would not match anyway. Instead, I am building a haphazard cupboard of singletons. I ask that they be clear, and that they not be too strange in shape. They vary mostly in architecture, and some vary quite a bit. Some are stout and thick, able to survive the long fall off the counter. Others have rims and walls so thin that I think I might shatter them if I pour the water too hard (but they never do). Looking ahead, I expect the collections to turn with time, as old favorites find the dustpan, and new additions appear to replace them. It occurs to me, too, that the problem of replacing by sets is nicely avoided.

On most nights, I fill them with water. On some nights, I fill them with wine.