essence
He held out a lime and said “you can’t smell anything until you cut it open. The limes at home (Bangladesh), you can smell without cutting. Even the leaves.” In some sort of aha moment, I agreed, remembering how deeply satisfying it was to drink gyokuro in Japan. Could it be true? The further away a food gets from where it is grown – the more essence it looses?
This question was heavy on my mind on my recent trip back home to Oregon. Does this happen to people too? After 6 years in NYC, was I loosing something in me that I wanted to keep? Was I loosing an essence? Would I have to dig deep to find it again?
Jen picked me up from the airport and drove me to her house in Cannon Beach, a town of barely 1,000 people. The air smelled like sweet wood and oysters – we hiked through the woods to the beach, the immensity of the beauty slit me wide open. In the presence of a good friend, in pristine nature, I didn’t have to dig deep at all, I was home.
So, yes, tea does come from far away – by boat or plane. It’s going to have some jet lag. It’s up to us to revive it. The elements that make delicious tea are oddly similar to what makes life joyful. Paying attention/bring present, fresh water, beautiful setting and good friends. And in tea making, following your intuition is always rewarded.
