This is our everyday water pitcher.
It lives in the fridge, with frequent outings to the kitchen counter and dinner table. It's one of my junk shop finds. It's not sterling, just good, Gorham silverplate. The pitcher wasn't cheap, but considering how beautiful and well made it is, and how we use it every day, it was worth every dollar.
Recently I had to plonk down more dollars to get it re-silvered at my terrific neighborhood silversmith shop. The plate was wearing very thin in places. (Such things happen when you're an 80-year-old pitcher and in use daily.) The pitcher was gone for two months--one month because that's how long it took to do the job, and another month because she went on vacation and the dude left in charge forgot to tell me the pitcher was ready.
Anyhow, the pitcher is back in its usual place in the fridge again. It looks better than ever. And oh, how I missed it!
I missed its beautiful monogram. Haven't got a clue whose initials these are, but aren't they pretty?
I missed the rows and rows of decorative detail around its shoulders:
And the perfect little thumbrest on the top of the handle, which works equally well for right-handed folks and lefties (we've got both in the family):
I missed the way condensation creates different silvery shades on its cold surface:
What I don't miss is how nasty the interior used to look! The smith re-lined the pitcher below the water line with a matte finish to help disguise some of the pitting that time has bestowed:
It's really subtle, and somehow more modern-looking with its new interior finish:
So now the pitcher is back home. Once again I'm enjoying the gentle, metallic ping it makes when I accidentally rattle it, taking it in or out of the fridge.
The smith says the re-silvering will last for decades--until I'm ready to hand the pitcher down to one of my kids.
Like when I'm 99 years old.