Wednesday, September 12, 2007

1000 Pictures, 1000 Cranes

My wife's name in English is 1000 pictures because her mother, Saddako, liked to draw and paint watercolors.

1000 means a great amount and we love round numbers, Arod's 500th homerun and Matsui's 100th occurred last month with fanfares (both are Yankees). And in Japanese tradition, if someone (or some friends) make 1000 paper cranes, it will bring luck, healing, good results for a cause.

YOU GET TO SEE THIS POSTING IN PROGRESS, LOOK INSIDE MY BRain...















I am returning to this unfinished post after a couple years. I wonder how many people will dig through the pile of my old posts to read this little note?


Anyway, I am not going to tie together all the things I was going to here. But I will finally explain this picture, why my brain is a picture of a sideways girl.

What below, here where we run around and eat, is masculine; is feminine above, in the dimension where we connect to others as who we are, not what we do, also called heaven or the above. And vice versa, the feminine is masculine above.

The scope of what feminine and masculine are is beyond this small writing. If you are interested, study the left and right qualities of the sephirot, or better acquire a rare teacher who is willing explain.

Monday, September 10, 2007

Cold Brewed Green Tea?

I read an article on cold brewed coffee and as we alike Joe Torre prefer green tea (my wife is Japanese), I thought I would give cold brewed green tea a try. We loved the cold green tea we bought from Jas Mart in Manhattan but it was a tad expensive because my wife, my son and I go through it like water.

I put six tea bags into a gallon of water and placed it in the refrigerator. (You need to let it steep in or out of the refrigerator for a couple of hours, and... you don't even have to take out the tea bags! The tanic acid which comes out by over-steeping in hot water isn't found here and you can drink the concoction for days.) The result was terrific. It had a lighter, cleaner taste, more refreshing like cold water. The refined aspects of the tea were not destroyed by the brewing process. We love it!

I love when we use four jasmine tea bags and two regular green tea bags but my wife's tongue has a Japanese sensibility and it is too perfume-y for her.

The photo is of hot matcha green tea but I couldn't resist the beauty.

Here is the article on cold-brewed iced coffee, if that's your cup of tea...

June 27, 2007
The New York Times
Iced Coffee? No Sweat
By CINDY PRICE


BEFORE I go telling everybody that the secret to great iced coffee is already in the kitchen, my friend Keller wants me to confess: I didn’t know from iced coffee until he showed me the light.

It’s important to cop to this now, because not a summer goes by that he does not painstakingly remind me, a rabid iced-coffee drinker, that he’s the one who introduced me to the wonders of cold-brewed iced coffee. The funny thing is, when the subject came up we were holed up in a summer rental with three friends off the coast of Puerto Rico, on a tiny island not exactly swimming in upmarket coffee houses.

Our first morning there I brewed a blend from the local grocery in the coffeepot, laced it with a little half-and-half and sugar, then let it cool. Classy, I thought, carrying the pitcher to the table. “I’ll just take it hot,” he mumbled, while I blinked in disbelief.

Clearly, this boy didn’t know any better. A drink has a time and place. Surely he didn’t subscribe to drinking hot coffee in summer?

“No, I only drink iced coffee if it’s cold-brewed,” he said.

For five days we watched him sullenly sip his hot coffee on a broiling Caribbean island in the dead of summer. We chided him for his pretensions, ridiculed him, tried valiantly to break him, but he patiently waited us out. Once we tried it we would understand, he explained. Like friends disputing a baseball stat in a bar with no access to Google, we had no way to settle the argument.

Two weeks later, back in Brooklyn, I saw a sign: “Cold-Brewed Iced Coffee Served Here.” Fine, then. I threw down two bucks and took a sip. Though it pains me to admit, the difference was considerable. Without the bitterness produced by hot water, the cold-brewed coffee had hints of chocolate, even caramel. I dropped my sugar packet — no need for it. The best brews hardly need cream. It really is the kind of thing a gentleman might spend five days in hot-coffee solitary confinement for.

Most days I’m too lazy to hunt down the elusive cold-brewed cup. But recently I discovered an interesting little fact. Cold-brewed coffee is actually dirt simple to make at home. Online, you’ll find a wealth of forums arguing for this bean or that, bottled water over tap, the 24-hour versus the 12-hour soak. You can even buy the Toddy cold-brew coffee system for about $30.

But you can also bang it out with a Mason jar and a sieve. You just add water to coffee, stir, cover it and leave it out on the counter overnight. A quick two-step filtering the next day (strain the grounds through a sieve, and use a coffee filter to pick up silt), a dilution of the brew one-to-one with water, and you’re done. Except for the time it sits on the kitchen counter, the whole process takes about five minutes.

I was curious to see how it would taste without all the trappings. The answer is, Fantastic. My friend Carter, something of a cold-brewing savant, turned me onto another homegrown trick: freeze some of the concentrate into cubes. Matched with regular ice cubes, they melt into the same ratio as the final blend.

Very fancy. Can’t wait to tell Keller.

Credits -
Photo of matcha supplied by michenv's flickr photostream.
Photo of iced coffee supplied by disneymike's flickr photostream.

The New School Year Blimp


On the first day of this year's not-school (my son of 12 stays home with me and also learns from music teachers, an art/cooking teacher, and a swimming instructor), we were watching Kiki's Delivery Service which features a blimp prominently. We looked up and saw the Goodyear blimp circling around and around our window! We took it as an omen that this would be a good school year. (We measure our unschool year from when my wife goes to teach high school.)

credits -
Photo by Langston McEachen from LSUS Archives which was supplied by mikerosebery's flickr photostream. The photo was taken in Shreveport, Louisiana in 1948.