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Nisei Week in Little Tokyo

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Japanese Tea Ceremony

This morning, Martine and I took the E-Train downtown to Little Tokyo. It was the beginning of Nisei Week, and there were some interesting events and exhibits to experience.

We had not attended Nisei Week since before the Covid-19 lockdown, so we were surprised by the smaller crowds and the obvious cutbacks. There were no events in the large Japanese American Cultural and Community Center (JACCC) courtyard. Some dozen years or so ago, I remember fondly seeing a program of five films starring Raizo Ichikawa at the center’s Aratani Theatre. This year, there were no film programs, no musical programs.

On the plus side, there was a fascinating Japanese tea ceremony. Martine did not know what she was missing when she decided not to attend. The forty-five minute program included a re-enactment of the tea ceremony in a little wooden tea house on the ground floor of the JACCC. There is something about the ritual and multiple exchange of bows that is somehow close to the very soul of the Japanese. And, at the end of the ceremony, we were given some excellent matcha tea and a Japanese sweet.

On the ground floor of the center, we saw a beautiful flower arrangement exhibit. I could kick myself for forgetting to bring my camera, because some of the arrangements were highly artistic; and there was even enough light in the room to make good pictures without flash.

On the fifth floor, we also saw an exhibit of Japanese dolls (not my cup of tea) and ceramics.

After the JACCC events, we trudged to Weller Court and had a so-so Chinese meal until such time as the karate event at the Terasaki Budokan gymnasium on Los Angeles Street was to start. Most of the event was like watching people do calisthenics, except for the team match-ups where there was something that looked like real fighting. There were teams from Japan, the United States, France, and Canada—and that was the order in which they finished.

Some of the Japanese participants were really fierce and fun to watch.

Will we go again next year? Probably not, but we’ll check first to see what they’ll have to offer.

Summer Is Icumen In

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The Malibu Pier at Sunset

It’s not quite here yet, but it’s coming. Lhude sing cuccu … or whatever. Summer has its moments in Southern California. Mostly, it’s just hot.

This time of year, I like to read works by William Faulkner (this summer, I’ll tackle his Collected Short Stories) and travel books about Arabia and India (I’ve already begun Charles M. Daughty’s Travels in Arabia Deserta, Volume I). Then, too, I will read the Travis McGee novels of John D. MacDonald and some Icelandic detective stories.

I will drink ungodly amounts of iced tea. I know it’s a powerful diuretic, but it does moisten the palate. This summer, it will mostly be the Ceylon loose tea from Ahmad of London. After the autumn equinox, I’ll switch to Darjeeling (when I need a lift) or Baruti or Ghalami Assam.

When it gets too hot, we’ll have a picnic lunch at Chace Park in the Marina and revel in the cool sea breezes, which typically die within a few hundred feet of the shore.

I will sleep without covers at night, usually with the window open. I will have to listen to all the dysfunctional car alarms, the patron’s of the bar across the street, and the cursing and moaning of all the street people.

In the end, it’s doable. One thing I will not do is travel—unless I could afford a flight to Alaska or Patagonia. The desert will be blisteringly hot, and we are surrounded by hundreds of miles of desert.

The Tea Drinker

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Iced Tea with Lemon

For many years now, I have begun each morning making a pot of Indian black tea, which I drink with a bit of honey (usually Mexican mesquite honey) and a squeeze of lime. By afternoon, what remains in the pot becomes iced tea—up to three glasses full. I try not to drink the entire contents of the pot every day, because tea acts as a diuretic. But in hot weather, I violate this rule of thumb.

Usually, I drink my iced tea without anything added. Sometimes, especially when there is company, I will fill a pitcher with iced tea and add artificial sweetener, the juice of a whole lemon, and a jigger of high quality dark rum, preferably Ron Zacapa Edición Negra from Guatemala or Myers’s Original Dark Rum from Jamaica. The rum is for flavor only and is not enough for intoxication.

My mother has told me that, as a baby, I used to sip from her coffee. Now I will not touch coffee, and do not even like coffee-flavored ice creams or candies. And when it comes to carbonated sodas, I rarely drink more than one glass every couple of weeks, usually at a restaurant.

That doesn’t quite make me a man of one beverage, but it comes close. I also like unsweetened mineral water, fruit juices, tomato juice, and lemonade. Put everything else I drink against hot and iced tea, however, and the tea I drink outweighs all my other options, except maybe for plain water, and that only during heat waves. (Too much tea, and I pretty much have to live in the bathroom.)

What is it about Indian black tea that appeals to me so much? It’s difficult o find the exact words, but good tea has a clarity of flavor that satisfies without causing satiety. For years, I have been buying Ahmad of London loose teas by the pound, usually:

  • Darjeeling, the best Indian black tea
  • Ceylon from Sri Lanka
  • Assam, Baruti and Ghalami varieties mostly in cold weather

Occasionally, when traveling, I will drink an English Breakfast or Irish Breakfast tea from tea bags. In Asian restaurants, I drink end enjoy green tea. But thank you, no Earl Grey please!

Limes

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Of late, I have become addicted to limes. In the morning, I squeeze a wedge of lime into my cup of hot tea (currently Darjeeling). At dinnertime, I mix the juice of half a small lime with a glass of tea remaining in the pot since morning, and add a packet of non-caloric Splenda to sweeten it.

Sometimes, when I think I am drinking too much tea (as I am wont to do), I just replace the cold tea with water, sometimes adding a dash of tequila, particularly when it is hot.

Typically, I buy limes by the bag. The unit price at the market is ridiculously high, and I have no difficulty finishing a bag of twenty or so limes within a few days.

What about lemons? I used to use lemons the way I use limes, but I have come to prefer the flavor of limes. During my travels in Mexico and Central America, I have rarely seen lemons at all. I presume that they grow there, but the locals, like me, probably prefer the taste of limes.

Breakfast

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My Favorite Meal of the Day? Breakfast!

I have written in the past about my love of Indian black tea, hot and iced. Even in the heat of summer, I love to start the day with a pot of Darjeeling, Assam, or Ceylon—or my personal blend of same. In the picture above, you can see my cheap Japanese metal teapot, which has an insert for the loose tea leaves so they don’t end of floating in my cup.

Of late, I have drunk my breakfast tea with either mesquite or desert wildflower honey, and a squeeze of fresh lime.

Accompanying it is usually one of the following:

  • Quesadillas with pickled rajas de jalapeño chiles
  • Huevos à la Mexicana: Scrambled eggs with chopped onions, garlic, serrano chiles, and (when available) tomatillos
  • Toasted English muffin with melted cheddar cheese and Indian red chile powder
  • Slices of cheese with crackers, the type of cheese varying with the season
  • Jimmy Dean’s frozen biscuits with sausage
  • Steel-cut oatmeal with dried cranberries or cherries and a dash of maple syrup
  • Hominy grits cooked with a chicken bouillon cube with butter, sausage, and fresh ground pepper
  • Sourdough toast with butter and garlic (for when I have a sore throat)

I would love to have grapefruit, but, like many men of my age, I am on Lipitor (generic Atorvastatin) to reduce cholesterol. It doesn’t work when you eat grapefruit.

Accompanying breakfast is my home-delivered copy of the Los Angeles Times. I scan the national, international, and local news, but spend most of my time with the puzzles and comics page.

When I have a good breakfast—and I usually do—the rest of the day starts of on a good footing.

Surviving Hell

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The Best Way to Beat the Heat: Iced Tea

Every morning, I make a full pot of tea in my little 1.5 liter metal Japanese teapot. Because it has a perforated insert into which I can spoon whole tea leaves without worrying about having to eat them as I drink the tea, I can dispense with tea bags altogether. I buy mostly Indian loose black teas (Darjeeling, Ceylon, Assam) by the pound. The general rule of thumb is that one pound (0.45 kilograms) brews some 240 cups of tea. Compare that with the Specialty Coffee Association’s estimate of 48 cups of coffee from one pound of beans.

In a heat wave such as we are now experiencing in Southern California—especially during the coronavirus quarantine—I become positively lizard-like. What keeps me from going reptile all the way is the iced tea I drink. As of 10 pm, there are only a few thimblefuls of tea left in my pot. While I was sitting in my library reading Marie NDiaye’s La Cheffe, I was cooled not only by the iced tea, but by the condensation from the glass sending icy droplets onto the hairs of my bare stomach (as I am not wearing a shirt while inside).

My Indian tea of choice lately has been the Ahmad of London brand, which is popular in the Indian and Iranian food stores in my part of town. At present, I am drinking their Darjeeling tea, which I find to be the best. It also happens to be the most expensive (600 grams for US$36).

I am particularly conscious of the heat because the apartment building in which I live was built in 1945, when insulation was not commonly used. That was before global warming. Now I feel as if I am living in one of those punishment hotboxes from Bridge on the River Kwai or Cool Hand Luke.

If you want to make your iced tea taste particularly good, add a splash of good dark rum, such as Myers’s Original Dark Rum from Jamaica. I also add the juice of a fresh lemon and some Splenda (as I am diabetic).

 

Breakfast

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Our Dinner Table in 2011

My main meal of the day is breakfast; and the most important component of my breakfast is a fresh pot of tea. The above photo was taken nine years ago, but I am using the same cheap metal Japanese teapot. I like it because it has a removable insert which captures all the tea leaves so I don’t end up pouring any in my cup. Visible in the upper left of the photo is a green and grey houndstooth-checked tea cosy, which I hardly use any more. After breakfast, I let my tea cool and, for lunch and dinner, pour the cold tea into a glass and add ice cubes. If I want to be fancy, I could also add Splenda, a little splash of dark rum, and a squeeze of lemon or lime.

My tea preference is almost always an Indian black, consisting of Ahmad of London’s loose teas, sometimes a mix of Darjeeling, Ceylon, Assam, and Brooke Bond Red Label tea. Right now, I am drinking pure Darjeeling, which I consider the best of Indian teas. When the coronavirus eventually subsides, I will shop for a high-quality Chinese Oolong from Ten Ren Tea Company for occasional entertaining.

At present, I add a bit of Mesquite Honey to the tea in my cup and a squeeze of lime.

Along with the tea, I rotate between steel-cut oatmeal with dried cranberries; grits with sausage, butter, and pepper; scrambled eggs with Serrano chiles; onion or sesame bagel with butter and cream cheese; my own kind of Welsh Rarebit on a sourdough English muffin with sharp Cheddar cheese and spicy red chile powder; crunchy peanut butter and jelly sandwich; sausage and biscuit; or, if I am pressed for time, just buttered toast.

It’s not much, but it makes an excellent start to my day. Martine and I usually eat breakfast separately, so I usually read the Los Angeles Times, concentrating on the comics, Sudoku and Kenken games, and (finally) the news.

A Little Bit of Wales

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A Welsh Tea House in the State of Chubut, Argentina

Today’s post is the result of finding a business card in Spanish for one of our 2011 Argentina destinations. It was part of the best day on that particular trip. In the morning, Martine and I went to the giant Magellanic penguin rookery at Punta Tombo where we saw baby penguin eggs hatching under the watchful eyes of hungry shore birds. Then we drove to the Welsh settlement at Gaiman where we had high tea at the Ty Gwyn.

Although we were many thousands of miles from Wales, it was as if we were in the Old Country. The tea, sandwiches, and cakes were absolutely delicious. In fact, we had such a good time that we took a bus from Puerto Madryn back to Gaiman and had another high tea.

High Tea at Ty Gwyn

The State of Chubut was originally settled by the Welsh who settled in a number of communities, including Gaiman, Puerto Madryn, Trelew, and Dolavon. At the souvenir shops at the Trelew airport, a conspicuous presence were the packages of Torta Negra Galesa, the dark Welsh Cake that is the highlight of a Welsh tea.

The only other places where Martine and I had high tea were at Blenheim Palace in England—the birthplace of Winston Churchill—and Butchart Gardens near Victoria, British Columbia, Canada. It is interesting that the Welsh in Argentina were easily on a par with the other two.

 

The Tea Drinker

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I Am Addicted to Drinking Tea

I drink mine not from bone china, but from a Harris Ranch mug, which I bought to replace an earlier one broken while being washed. The nights in Los Angeles are getting cold (down to the forties in Fahrenheit and the single digits Celsius). What keeps me going is mostly Indian black tea. In the mornings, I brew a pot of mixed Darjeeling and Ceylon. For lunch today at the Moon House, I had about four or five cups of green tea, Tonight, as I read Cara Black’s Aimée Leduc mystery Murder in the Sentier,  I brewed myself a cup of Indian chai masala.

Coffee? What’s that? I’m told I’m probably the only person in the Continental United States who never touches the stuff. In fact, I am repelled by the taste and the smell of bitter beans, as I refer to them.

As I look forward to the coming new year, I will probably drink hundreds of cups of hot tea and, when it gets hot, hundreds of glasses of iced tea (the same blend as my morning pot).

I make no special claims for tea, other than that I love the smooth taste. Drinking it makes me feel calm, even just before going to bed.

My parents told me that, as a small child, I used to sip their coffee. What happened in my childhood years that made me turn so vehemently against the stuff? Did I have a bad cap of joe? Did I spill some on myself and burn myself? Apparently, even my mother and father didn’t know.

 

What Flows Through My Veins

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No, It’s Not Coffee … Ever!

With most Americans, I would wager that what flows in their veins is either coffee or Coca-Cola. With me, it’s tea—either hot or iced. And my tea is occasionally made with tea bags, but most of the time with tea leaves which I store in bulk. Although I also drink Chinese and Japanese green teas with my Chinese or Japanese food, my tea of choice for my own cooking is Indian black tea. Darjeeling is by far the best, but the better grades can be fiendishly expensive. So I usually blend it with Ceylon or Assam depending on the time of year.

When it gets cooler, as it is now, I like to mix the Darjeeling with a “wake-me-up” Assam like Baruti or Ghalami. I -purchase the tea in bulk either from an Indian or Persian grocery store. One pound of any loose black tea will last me the better part of a year.

I have a cheap Japanese metal pot with a removable insert so that I don’t need a strainer to remove the infused tea leaves from my cup. After making a couple of cups of hot tea for breakfast, I save the rest of the tea in the pot for iced tea, adding two or three ice cubes per glass. During the summer, I usually drink iced tea all the time, including for breakfast.

My iced tea is usually unsweetened. For hot tea, I like to add mesquite honey and a squeeze of fresh lime.

Sometimes I don’t even think of myself as an American because I’m not hooked on coffee and Coke. Although I will occasionally drink a Coke when the only alternative is iced tea adulterated with passion fruit, raspberries, or kumquats. Adulterated iced tea is an abomination and to be avoided at all costs.