As a keen observer of trends in the fast-casual dining world (how else would I have known about the return of the choco taco at high-end ice cream purveyor Salt and Straw earlier this year?), my ears perked up at news of the release last week of a brand-new Starbucks novelty cup: The Bearista. A glass beverage container bearing a striking resemblance to a honey bottle, but with a cute green beanie as a lid (it really is cute!), the cup retails for $29.95 and immediately sold out at all locations, only to later appear on eBay for upwards of hundreds – if not thousands! – of dollars. Out of curiosity, I asked the barista at our local Starbucks about it on the day of release, and he said their store only received two, which were both sold to customers who came at 4:30am in the morning just to get their hands on one of these rare treasures.
The whole experience reminded me of a piece I had written for the Forward in 2014 about the Jewish history of the coffee cup, so I thought I would share an updated version with you today, since there are no Jewish holidays in sight (and I think the statute of limitations on repurposing my own writing is around ten years)? Enjoy!
What is it about Jews and cups? Yes, the rabbis of Pirkei Avot (Wisdom of our Ancestors) remind us: “Do not look at the vessel, but at what is contained within it,” but there are numerous examples in Jewish tradition of the importance of the vessel itself, especially the cup. There is, of course, the kiddush cup that we raise in celebration at every Shabbat, Jewish holiday, bris, baby naming, and wedding. There are the four cups we drink on Passover. And in the Tanach (Hebrew bible), our prophets and psalmists refer frequently to cups. There is the famous overflowing cup from Psalm 23 that is a source of comfort and a reminder to be thankful for our blessings. Later in psalms, there is the “cos y’shuot” – cup of salvation – that we lift at havdalah, marking the transition from dark to light, day to night, and Shabbat to the rest of our week. In Jeremiah, there is the “cos tanhumim” – the cup of consolation – later included in Jewish mourning practices. Also in Jeremiah is the cup of wrath, which is what we ask God to pour out upon those who wish us harm. In the Talmud (Eruvin 65b), Rabbi Ilai cleverly opines: “A person is recognized by three things: koso, kiso, and ka’aso – their cup, their pocket, and their anger.” In other words, how they handle their liquor (self-control), their money (generosity), and their temper (patience).
And in our own day and age, the coffee cup has a surprisingly rich Jewish history. Let’s begin with the Starbucks cup. One of the 1971 founders of the original Starbucks, Zev Siegel, was Jewish, and in 1987 the company was bought by fellow Jew and former employee Howard Schultz, who was passionately committed to turning Starbucks from a whole-bean coffee roaster and retailer into a chain of espresso bars that served as communal gathering places like those he encountered on buying trips to Milan as Starbucks’ former director of marketing. He created a new logo that was a merger of the original Starbucks logo and the logo for Il Giornale – Schultz’s espresso bar that he opened when he couldn’t convince the original Starbucks owners to focus on brewed coffee sales. Schultz’s new Starbucks logo (a form of which is still in use today) featured a stylized version of the original Starbucks two-tailed mermaid (technically a Melusine), changed from brown to green to match the green circle with white block lettering and stars that were part of Schultz’s original logo for Il Giornale. For many coffee drinkers, a quick sighting of the Starbucks green alone (Pantone 3298) is enough to elicit pavlovian caffeine cravings that are not easily denied.
The Starbucks cup may be iconic (if not ubiquitous), but there’s one other coffee cup that has it beat in terms of recognizability and Jewish connections. Fifty years ago, in an attempt to sell more paper cups to the plethora of Greek-owned diners in New York City, the marketing director for the startup Sherri Cup Company created the “Anthora” coffee cup. The cup’s creator, Leslie Buck, was born Laszlo Büch to a Ukrainian Jewish family. Tragically, both of his parents were killed by the Nazis, and Leslie himself was a survivor of both Auschwitz and Buchenwald. Featuring the blue and white of the Greek flag, with a classic key pattern, a drawing of an amphora (the Greek vase for which the cup, courtesy of Buck’s thick accent, is named), The New York Times called this cup, “a pop-cultural totem” that was “as vivid an emblem of New York City as the Statue of Liberty.” For many New Yorkers, this simple cup can evoke Proustian memories of streets traveled, early work mornings, and Sunday dog walks. For Buck, it was a long journey from “Work Makes You Free” to “We Are Happy to Serve You.”
There is one more vessel I’d like to feature from Jewish tradition. In the second Book of Kings (chapter 4), there is a tragic story of a woman and her two children, hungry and destitute after the death of their husband and father. She pleads with the prophet Elisha to save her, and he asks her what she has on hand. She only has one jar of oil, so the prophet instructs her, “‘Go…and borrow vessels outside, from all your neighbors, empty vessels, as many as you can. Then go in and shut the door behind you and your children, and pour [oil] into all those vessels, removing each one as it is filled. She went away and shut the door behind her and her children. They kept bringing [vessels] to her, and she kept pouring. When the vessels were full, she said to her son, ‘Bring me another vessel.’ He answered her, ‘There are no more vessels’; and the oil stopped. She came and told the agent of God, and he said, ‘Go sell the oil and pay your debt, and you and your children can live on the rest.’
I think about this story a lot in this current moment. That unlike the Chanukkah story we will tell next month, the miracle of this story is not the oil, but the neighbors who come together to do what they can for this woman and her children. They understand that the purpose of a vessel is to be filled – with works of generosity, hope, and compassion. As Marge Piercy writes in her poem, “To Be Of Use”
…The thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real
Cantor Eric Schulmiller
