Category Archives: Matcha

Tonight We All Enjoy the Same Moon

0A5529B4-8922-4BFE-B437-2E03668B22B2Since ancient times, the presence of the full moon has represented an important moment. Especially true in Autumn, the mid-Autumn full moon bears great significance, heralding the harvest and the slow but inevitable shift towards Winter. Still warm during this time, enjoying the glow of the full moon during the night is refreshing, something to be celebrated.

In East Asia, many cultures observe this moment. In Japan, 月見 Tsukimi (lit. “Moon viewing”) is a big occasion, with festivities focused on enjoying the sight of the moonrise. In 茶の湯 chanoyu, tea takes on the “flavor” of the moon, with tea practitioners skillfully incorporating lunar elements into their tea gatherings. 月の茶 tsuki no cha (“tea for the moon”) is a popular event, with tea gatherings being held to the light of the moon, on moon-viewing platforms, open pavilions, and even on moon-viewing boats (月見船 tsukimi-bune). Some tea people go so far as to have a special “moon-viewing” window cut into the roof of their 茶室 chashitsu (“tea house”), special-built for such an occasion. Needless to say, the moon, with its ever-changing face and importance in marking the passing of the seasons, holds a special place in tea people’s hearts.

06B1DA20-F7D9-449E-963D-A2DF2777EC33On this evening, as the moon begins to rise in the night sky, I sit with my partner for a bowl of tea. To open the intimate gathering, a large 月見団子 tsukimi-dango is offered, placed atop a shallow celadon bowl.

31FE84E8-D84D-4503-880D-FA0438A46CE7Next, as the soft rolling boil of the kettle rises in the still of the night, tea implements are brought out and cleansed. A white 刷毛目唐津茶碗 hakeme Karatsu chawan (brushed slip Karatsu teabowl) and small, perfectly round 文琳茶入 “bunrin” chaire (“bunrin” ceramic tea container) are brought together, along with a 茶杓 chashaku (tea scoop) with a mark upon its dark bamboo skin that resembles a bright glowing moon behind a veil of clouds.

58D209DC-ADBC-4CCE-B3AB-615CDAC34DB3Pulled from it’s brocaded silk 仕服 shifuku pouch,

98202163-10A7-4B23-9571-982327F6E5FBthe little ceramic tea container sits in the dim light of the tearoom,

B25B6100-D2FC-4A26-AD01-306CAEDB430Citself looking like a small moon.

15E97BE0-6C93-4119-B6FD-09A6D9E44C34The teabowl, cleansed with the water from my boiling 茶釜 chagama (“tea kettle”) sits looking fresh, sparkling in the moonlit evening.

165AD248-6351-469E-BEE0-BD9F1C35FEFAAs I scoop the initial three scoops of 抹茶 matcha into the teabowl, my partner begins to eat the tea sweet, and we both enjoy the quietude of the night.

62E1370E-7697-4794-B9F4-573B8D29170EAfter three scoops are issued into the teabowl, I tilt the chaire sideways, letting the remaining matcha powder cascade down into the chawan. In this instance, I am reminded that the tea, too, contains a reference to the moon as it was given the poetic name Tsuki” (“moon”) by its purveyor, Setsugekka, a local tea shop that ground it for me.

917437A1-478A-4BCE-B504-FC956E56BE9CPouring a small amount of hot water into the teabowl, I begin to knead the tea into a thick paste. Immediately, the scent of tea fills the small tea space, filling us both with joyful anticipation.

C637709B-6B58-43ED-8A8E-FDC52C881B20More water is added and I finish making the bowl of 濃茶 koicha (“thick tea”). As I pass the bowl to my partner, we enjoy how dark and lustrous the tea looks against the white, cloudy background of the hakeme chawan.

010F04A8-15C4-41C7-978F-D4861492E6B9.jpegShe takes a sip and wipes the rim. She then passes it back to me and I finish the bowl with a smile. As we enjoy the same moon together, we also enjoy the same bowl of tea. Terms like “host” and “guest” fall by the wayside and we sit together as dear friends.

C597B77D-5AB1-49F0-94FC-7F7B69C2481C.jpegWith so much tea still left in the teabowl, I opt to finish the night’s celebration with a final informal bowl of 薄茶 usucha (“thin tea”), whisking the remaining dregs with more hot water. The soft, bright foam glows in the pale light of the night. Its flavor is sweet and relaxing.

08CF035D-9725-445F-BFC4-E4A85826DBEEFinally, before we settle in, a simple 拝見 haiken is held, offering us both a final instance to enjoy the tea objects before they are put away.

D580A311-4C17-4532-8074-A512E821C30FThe round little bunrin chaire.

154F6CFD-AFA5-49B4-9698-3BD4A3593193Its silvery blue shifuku. The moon-like glow upon the bamboo skin of the chashaku.

AD4F1F7A-E9A7-4395-8EB3-8C8DE7D897C2The moon, itself, making its journey across the Autumn night’s sky. When we look upon the moon tonight, we all enjoy the same moon.

Leave a comment

Filed under Ceramics, Education, Green Tea, History, Japan, Matcha, Meditation, Tea

To Have Flowers Without Flowers

IMG_1764According to the 易經 Yìjīng (I Ching), the ninth day of the ninth month is said to have too much  yáng force and is therefore seen as a potentially harmful date. On this day, it is believed that climbing a high mountain, drinking chrysanthemum liquor, and wearing 茱萸 zhūyú (Cornus officinalis, a type of dogwood) would prevent harm. For this reason, a main feature of the festivities and customs surrounding the “Double Nine Festival” are chrysanthemums. In Japanese tea culture, 菊の節句 Kiku no Sekku, or “Chrysanthemum Festival”, is observed, often through the unavoidable display of the flower in the 床間 tokonoma alcove of the tearoom.

Usually, I find myself making a small arrangement on this day and making tea, enjoying the vibrant colors and delicate forms of chrysanthemums. However, on this September ninth, I found myself busy with work and terribly jet lagged, having just returned from a trip to the Philippines. With little time and much less energy, I found myself unable to even step out to procure the necessary flowers. Undaunted, I managed to muster up enough energy to put together a solitary sitting for tea.

Having finished my daily work, I lit a stick of incense and I set my antique 風炉 furo (“wind furnace”) to boil water. Next, sliding open the doors of my antique wooden tea cabinet, I brought out an arrangement of teawares: a vintage 萩焼茶碗 Hagi-yaki chawan, a teascoop and whisk carved by master craftsperson 谷村丹後 Tanimura Tango, and a small Korean Goryeo-style celadon incense container.

7DFD038D-5FA1-4BE8-985E-10532B6F3ED8As the iron kettle began to boil, I began to sift a small amount of 抹茶 matcha into the shallow interior of the incense container. Although not common in 茶の湯 chanoyu (Japanese tea ceremony), I’ve made it a personal practice to occasionally use 香合 kōgō to hold tea. In this instance, I deliberately chose to do this as the incense container is decorated with an inlaid chrysanthemum motif.

D5FB44AE-62AF-46EC-8C23-40A8FE838865Finally ready, I sat down to enjoy a bowl of tea. Cleansing the celadon kōgō, I had a brief moment to enjoy the traditional inlay design of deep red, pale white, and dark green against the soft celadon background. Lifting the lid, I admired the low mound of bright green matcha encircled by a ring of russet-colored unglazed clay.

10EE9B16-FD96-426F-A7C8-77275CEDAA9CNext, I turned my gaze to the teabowl, scoop and whisk.

5F8C8726-EC7C-44C7-8A93-1E86D3B82935With the folded 袱紗 fukusa (a silk cloth used to purify teaware), I cleansed the 茶杓 chashaku (tea scoop), setting it down atop the flat lid of the celadon kōgō.

987770C4-4A2A-4B0B-A4FD-8A955DD1C517Next, whisk in hand, I began to cleanse the teabowl. Once purified, I set the bowl down, ready to produce a bowl of matcha.

13F6B62E-F8A8-48E6-839D-71BCDC34136CIssuing-out three scoops of tea powder from the incense container, I set each within the well of the teabowl. Scooping-up a ladle if hot water from the iron kettle, I poured half of it into the teabowl, returning the remainder back into the kettle.

BE37C626-9923-4E0B-A60B-FE354BE7F5B8Whisking the matcha powder and boiled water concoction into a light foam, the tea and teabowl seemed to come to life in the golden glow of the late afternoon light.

B0903613-F9DB-49B1-9DFE-498E492B2DEETaking all objects together, I appreciated the personal gesture of making tea despite the busyness of my workday. Often is the case I don’t make time for tea. Even when I was traveling, I had not given myself a moment to pause and slack my thirst with the beverage. An email here, an assignment there, and even the self-imposed pressure of “performing” can sometimes keep me from stopping to take in my surroundings and meditate on the “now”. Yet, how subtle a gesture it is to make tea. To involve my whole mind and body in a simple process. No ritual. Just action. Just a recognition of a basic procedure, of the breath, of the feeling of a warm teabowl in my hands as I lift it to my lips. This is just enough to bring me back to the present moment.

7EED1D84-519F-43C4-A59C-FA5236A31856On a day with no flowers in my alcove, I found the means to have flowers without flowers. A bouquet of senses. A ring of chrysanthemums decorating a makeshift tea container. Just enough to turn this day into a celebration.

Leave a comment

Filed under Ceramics, China, Education, Green Tea, History, Incense, Japan, Korea, Matcha, Meditation, Tea

The Cicada Emerges and Sheds Its Skin

IMG_1470Within the month of August, Summer’s heat gradually fades, giving way to Autumn’s cool. While the days remain hot, breezes push through the canopies of the large, broad-leafed deciduous trees, and press through the fields of grass, creating great waves upon an emerald ocean.

Amidst the gentle rustling of the wind, the cacophonous sound of cicadas is unavoidable, like an endless chorus, with each species offering-up a different melody. While rarely present to the eye, the melodious cicada we may encounter, in fact, is the final growth stage of what is often a decade’s-old being. Crawling out from its underground burrow, the cicada nymph will climb the nearest tree and break-through its old dull-colored skin, emerging as a brightly-colored, fully-formed adult.

This transformation and the shedding of skin is laden with symbolism. In East Asia, this can mark the exchanging of Summer for Autumn, but also may represent rebirth, analogous to spirits rising up to take on a purer form as they pass into the transient realm. For this reason, in ancient China, cicada-shaped amulets made of jade were often placed in the mouths of the dead.

It also comes as no surprise that in many East Asian cultures, August is the month when people collectively observe the passing of those who had died during the year. While to many this may seem grim, to those who regularly take note of the ever-changing seasons, this is just part of the way time holds sway over all aspects of our lives.

6696AF57-34FE-4B05-BF72-13A4A10D3DCEIn my tearoom, this feeling is ever-present. Outside my window, the cicadas cry from early morning through the evening. Even today, they make their presence known. To celebrate their lives (and eventual passing), I offer them a bowl of 濃茶 koicha (“thick tea”). For this, I bring out a special collection of teaware: a small 茄子茶入 nasu-chaire (“eggplant-shaped tea container”) and 海鼠釉天目茶碗 namako-yū tenmoku chawan (“sea cucumber-glaze” tenmoku teabowl).

IMG_1402As I begin the process of cleansing each object, I can’t help but to see the connection between removing the small ceramic chaire from its silk brocade 仕服 shifuku pouch and the emergence of the cicada from its discarded skin.

5A1F25F5-5138-44E6-9914-89F7B97B8D7EEach movement is calculated, revealing more and more of the hidden object.

65BACCB0-9BE0-48E8-8E4B-8CDEC2F57AF6A thin sheath, to reveal a jewel within.

E41C2279-8B7F-4CE3-9AF5-726BA6F9AC85The teabowl, too, bears a resemblance to the often vibrantly-colored insect, with nebulous pools of blue intermingling with threads of white set against a deep chocolate brown.

2F62AB52-29EC-45A1-B6C4-9B7551F1C01BOnce cleansed, each object, from the chaire to the 茶杓 chashaku (tea scoop), are set into motion.

BF8E1D7A-BCEF-4FFA-990A-F641D244D480Upon doling-out three scoops of 抹茶 matcha (“powdered tea”) from the chaire, I then pour the remainder of the tea left in the tea container into the teabowl.

IMG_1471Rather than whisk the tea (as is done when making a bowl of 薄茶 usucha, “thin tea”), I knead the concoction of tea powder and water into a thick slurry.

7E6C3640-A37B-4EF0-B244-5A7E289726FDThe end result is a slick liquid with a lacquer-like shine.

D7E8D031-DC7E-4D2A-9786-ED5E27381F16Set atop a silk brocade 古帛紗 kobukusa (a thick square of brocaded silk used to present a tea object), I take the first sip from the teabowl to honor the thousands of tiny sonorous guests outside my window.

IMG_1452With the rich flavor of koicha still lingering and the chiming of the cicadas still audible, I begin to close the private tea gathering.

24F61BC6-15BC-420D-B86D-9FF3092A3B38Before I put each object back into their respective 桐箱 kiribako (boxes made of paulownia wood), I perform a simple 拝見 haiken. Shifuku, chashaku, and chaire are set together. Implements brought into the service of making tea for but a brief moment. Like a flash, they appear and then recede from sight. To pause to appreciate this fleeting interaction, the interplay of colors and textures, materials and shapes, is akin to the recognition of the passing of time itself.

As one season transforms into another, as a cicada sheds its skin, we, too, are changed by this subtle process. We, too, are moved by it.

Leave a comment

Filed under Ceramics, China, Education, Green Tea, History, Japan, Matcha, Meditation, Tea

Celebrating Qīxī with Tea Made in the Song Style

An ancient Chinese myth tells of two celestial lovers 織女 Zhīnǚ (the star Vega) and 牛郎 Niúlán (the star Altair) kept apart, only united on the seventh evening of the seventh month. It is believed at this time, these stars align and a bridge made of magpies stretches across the Milky Way, linking the two sky-bound lovers. While some within East Asia may observe this day on July 7th in accordance with the Western calendar, the true date of 七夕 Qīxī is variable, dependent on the lunar month and day.

On this 7th of August, I sit down to prepare a very special bowl of tea in observance of Qīxī, one in the style of the Song period (960-1279). To give as accurate of an approximation of this approach, I utilize methods described in such texts as Emperor 宋徽宗 Sòng Huīzōng’s 大觀茶論 Dà Guān Chá Lùn (“Treatise on Tea”, 1107) and 蔡襄 Cài Xiāng’s 茶錄 Chá Lù (“Record of Tea”, 1049-1053). Additionally, I use teaware that closely reflect those which are depicted in Song period paintings and in the 1269 illustrated text 茶具圖贊 Chájù Tú Zàn (“Pictorial of Tea”) by 審安老人 Shěnān Lǎo Rén (Old man Shenan).

Much of my time making tea in this manner is spent not with the boiling of water or the whisking of tea, but in the hours-long process of sorting, sifting, and grinding leaves of a wild white tea to make a fine powder.

Once ground-down to a fine enough powder, I place this Song style 抹茶 mǒchá (powdered tea) into a small gourd-shaped celadon container.

Boiling water and assembling teaware becomes its own meditation, set to the scent of incense wafting in the air of my tearoom. Once put together, I offer up what is as close of an approximation to tea during the Song period that I can muster.

A vintage Japanese-made 天目茶碗 tenmoku chawan made in reproduction of a Song period 建窯 Jiàn yáo teabowl sitting atop a wooden cup stand.

A bright celadon tea container. A simple scoop fashioned from wood.

A bamboo whisk modified to approximate that which would have been used during the mid-to-late Song period. All items I place atop a tray carved from mulberry wood.

Each item is then cleansed and readied to prepare a bowl of Song style mǒchá.

With the teabowl warmed, I draw-forth six scoops of powdered tea from the small celadon tea container.

Placed in the center of the tenmoku chawan, the faint aroma of tea can already be detected.

Next, I pour a small measure of boiled water over the tea powder and begin to knead it into a thick, consistent paste with the tea whisk.

Once fully kneaded, I add a little more water, just enough to turn the tea paste into a thick liquid.

Whisking slightly faster, I begin to whip the tea into a light foam.

More water is added and I whisk faster.

More water is added and more foam is produced.

Seven times I add water before the tea is fully whisked into a proper bowl of mǒchá as described by Huīzōng during the 12th century.

The soft foam and minuscule patterns of collected tea upon the surface poetically resembling freshly-fallen snow.

Served atop the wooden cup stand, the tea is exceedingly fragrant, surpassing the light aroma of aloeswood that still lingers in the air.

In observance of two star-crossed lovers, as they make their way silently across the sky, I slack my thirst with tea prepared in accordance to an ancient style. The flavor of tea and the time of year melding together into a moment of meditation.

2 Comments

Filed under Ceramics, China, Education, History, Matcha, Tea, White Tea

Big Heat: Tea at Summer’s Peak

As July comes to a close the heat of Summer climbs evermore. In the twenty-four seasonal points of the traditional Japanese calendar, this moment is called 大暑 tai-sho, literally “big heat”. As breezes calm, rain subsides, and shadows offer no respite from the heat of the day, to make a bowl of tea can seem counterproductive in assuaging the high temperatures of Summer’s apex. Yet, here, too, one can find relief.

In 茶の湯 chanoyu, Summer is eagerly met by tea people with the opportunity to induce upon their guests a sense of coolness. Through creative means, the host will make subtle changes to the tearoom to evoke a sense of lightness into the space.

As I sit for tea today, I select a low-slung and irregularly-shaped 黒織部 kuro-Oribe (“black Oribe”) 沓形茶碗 kutsu-gata chawan (lit. “clog-shaped” teabowl).

For a tea container, I choose a 切子 kiriko cut crystal cup, atop which I place a light piece of smoothed and lacquered wood to act as a well-fitted lid. Through its transparent faceted walls radiates the bright, refreshing color of 抹茶 matcha tea.

The slick surface of the black teabowl and accompanying 茶巾 chakin (linen tea cloth) and bamboo teascoop offer refreshing layers of contrasting textures, evoking the coolness of a bamboo grove following a Summer’s rain.

Set alone after its purification, the oblong chawan seems more natural than handcrafted, resembling a slick flagstone or deep pool of water.

To my attending guest, I offer up ice-like pieces of わらび餅 warabi-mochi atop a cut-glass plate, itself in the shape of a folding fan.

As my guest begins to enjoy the refreshing tea sweet, I begin to prepare a bowl of tea, measuring-out three scoops of matcha from the crystal tea container.

As is done in Summer, I lay the 茶筅 chasen (tea whisk) over the mound of powdered tea.

Doing this produces a bit of an obstacle for the hot water as it is poured into the chawan, resulting in a gentle sound of liquid passing through the tines of the bamboo whisk and allowing small droplets to collect on their thin blades.

Whisking of the tea in the kutsu-geta chawan feels considerably different than a typical tea bowl; its flat bottom and overall organic form creating an enjoyable challenge for me to overcome.

Once whipped into a bright foam, the tea quickly begins to cool. Passed to my guest, they are able to enjoy a rare treat: hot tea served during 土用 doyō (the “dog days” of Summer).

To quash the heat of the day with a warm bowl of tea. To induce a sense of coolness as the temperature has reached its peak. This challenge and opportunity lies at the heart of tea practice in chanoyu.

Rinsing and cleansing the tea implements one last time, we both notice the subtle changes that have arisen. The light of the day has shifted. The sound of a wind chime rings in the distance. The song of an ice cream truck rolling through some far-off neighborhood. And yet, the heat of the Summer seems to have faded in our minds.

Leave a comment

Filed under Ceramics, Green Tea, Japan, Matcha, Tea

In Morning When the Lotus Bloom

With mid-July comes 小暑 shōsho (“minor heat”), the week’s that precede the hottest part of Summer. Even so, the heat of the day is hard to bear, leaving tea people to want to gather in the early morning.

In the dim light of dawn, a sense of coolness pervades, the muted colors and dark pools of shadow paring down the environment to its essentials. In the tearoom, this continues, with only the bare minimum used. A teabowl, a bamboo 茶筅 chasen (tea whisk), a well bucket containing cool water.

On this morning, as a light rain aids in keeping down the heat, I bring into the tearoom a small porcelain tea container from the 景德鎮 Jǐngdézhèn kiln, upon which blossoming lotus flowers have been painted in a deep cobalt blue. For my guest, this becomes a subtle nod that in July lotus viewing tea gatherings (蓮見の茶 hasu-mi no cha) are held in the early morning, right at the moment the floating aquatic flowers begin to bloom.

Holding it in my hand, I purify the porcelain container, the soft silk of the 仕服 shifuku gliding off its smooth surface.

Next I cleanse the 茶杓 chashaku.

I take pause, to let myself and the guest appreciate the bamboo of the teascoop, its skin dappled with tiny spots which resemble light rain.

Finally, I cleanse the teabowl, an antique 萩焼茶碗 Hagi-yaki chawan, the color of which is similar to the light blush pink of a lotus bud.

Placing the first scoop of tea into the teabowl feels like entering into a dark cavern; the dawn producing voluminous swaths of glowing light and soft shadows.

Whisking the tea into a foam, I can’t help but to peer down into the teabowl, appreciating the low peaks and minute textures that give rise.

Finished and ready for my guest, we sit to enjoy the glowing presence of the 抹茶 matcha, itself, like a blossoming lotus, fragrant and electric.

Quietly enjoyed, the teabowl is returned to be cleansed once again, a thin residue of tea foam still clinging to its interior.

Concluding the tea gathering becomes its own meditation. The sound of the 茶釜 chagama (spoutless tea kettle), the light patter of rain, the shifting of silk over the chashaku once more.

A final appreciation of the teaware and the light of the day begins to creep through the screen of 簾 sudare (woven blinds made of reeds).

Leave a comment

Filed under Ceramics, Japan, Matcha, Meditation, Tea

For Star Festival, a Leaf for a Lid

On the seventh day of the seventh month, Japan celebrates 七夕祭 Tanabata matsuri (“Star Festival” or “Festival of the Weaver”). Based on the ancient Chinese legend that stars Vega and Altair were married, but could only meet once a year. The two stars, separated by the Milky Way, were said to be able to meet on this day.

In Japan, this coincides with a Shinto purification ritual in which a special ritual garment was woven on a loom called tanabata (棚機), which would be offered to a god for the protection of rice crops. On this day, people also affix strips of paper with wishes written upon them to bamboo.

In tea, many traditions exist to observe this day. In my own practice, I cannot help but to play off of this multitude of customs. In the 宗徧流 Sōhen-ryū school of 茶の湯 chanoyu (Japanese tea ceremony), a mulberry leaf is used as a lid for the 水差 mizusashi (cold water jar) on this day in a practice called 葉蓋点前 habuta-temae (lit. “leaf lid procedure”).

With mulberry leaves being linked to silk weaving, and since July 7th is typically a warm day, I cannot help but enjoy the meaningful and refreshing presence a broad, verdant mulberry leaf in the tearoom. For a mizusashi, I opt for a contemporary piece of glassware.

For a teabowl, I select a 刷毛目唐津茶碗 hakeme Karatsu chawan (brushed slip Karatsu teabowl), the marks upon which look like the cloudy swath of the Milky Way. For a tea container, I select a 若狭塗棗 Wakasa-nuri natsume (“Wakasa lacquer tea caddy”), the layers of sparkling lacquer looking like swirling nebulas or refreshing pools of water. Even the 茶杓 chashaku (tea scoop) appears to have a bright patch of glowing stars against a dark field of bamboo.

Purifying the teaware brings a sense of freshness to the tea space.

The teabowl, slick with water, is cooling.

Adding 抹茶 matcha into its center releases the fresh aroma of tea.

As I whisk the tea into a soft, bright foam, my guest is treated to a seasonal tea sweet.

Set into a translucent jelly are two plump loquats. Glowing like two radiant stars, they’ve been set upon a dark green mulberry leaf, of which is resting in a Chinese monochrome celadon bowl.

Finally offering the bowl of tea to my guest, they let the sweet flavor of the candied loquat blend with the deep, rich flavor of matcha.

As we sit and relax for the remainder of the day, time passes slowly. Two stars meet together. Two friends grow closer. No trace of this except for the flavor of tea that lingers, the heat of the day that persists, the cool water that sits in my mizusashi, and the folded mulberry leaf that was used as a lid.

Leave a comment

Filed under Ceramics, China, Education, Green Tea, History, Japan, Matcha, Tea