Hojicha

The roasted maltiness of the hojicha was an unexpected revelation, although the honey color of the liquor should have been a tip-off. This Japanese green tea is entirely made of tea stalks, the cast-offs when tea leaves are harvested. However, these humble twigs have been ingeniously put to use, yielding a tea with a truly unique taste, deluding me into half-believing that I was drinking a black tea.

Sipping the tea, I was grateful for the happy pairing of resourcefulness and serendipity in creating my many enjoyments of life. This cup of hojicha was one of them.

The tea was further enhanced by an accompaniment of delectable macaroons. These orange and rose-flavored cookies sandwiched a sweet buttercream filling, a yin and yang of airy egg whites and robust cream (sorry, Manischewitz).

In a swirl of a tea and macaroon-infused state, E and I strolled through a woodsy park on this late balmy afternoon. The snowfall of early morning had partially melted; we evaded bits of treacherous ice and leaped over puddles of melted snow.

Red and blue berries were suspended from bare skinny limbs of trees, throwing out splashes of color amidst a more somber background. We reached the water's edge of the lake, noticing the shafts of light flitting through the uppermost branches.


An occasional dogwalker passed by. The splashing of the waves as we stood on the promontory made me feel like I was on a far-away island. Inhaling deeply, we walked back together.