Guilty! Yes, I freely admit to it. Things I see, hear, taste, smell or feel today will often put me in mind of things that took place in the past. Do I live in the past? Hardly. But I do cherish the memories & I find new appreciation of the world I experience today by reflecting on the richness of what has taken place yesterday.
I was in the mood for tea. Now understand this… for much of my youth tea meant two things. First, it was the beverage to drink with Chinese food (which we did somewhat regularly). Next, if I was sick with a sore throat, Mommie Soph would prepare me the other elixir… a cup of tea with lemon and honey.
While drinking tea for me was a clearly defined event, for Mommie Soph it was a pastime. She brought to this country the Eastern European approach to consuming this hot drink. First, you drink it every day. Next, tea while put in a cup, the cup was referred to as a glass (or more specifically, a glessela… meaning a small glass, although it rarely was). Then, true to Russian/Polish custom, a piece of brick hard sugar was wedged between the teeth & the tea was sipped thru the sugar.
But as I say… one day I was in the mood for tea and I happened to be strolling the aisles of Costco looking for Claymore mines when I saw a box containing eight different flavours of herbal tea… some of the flavours actually contained some green tea. But for sure, none of the flavours represented would have been found in the Far East (New Haven’s popular Chinese Restaurant) or in Mommie Soph’s glass.
I tucked my “variety pack” of tea under my arm and headed back to work. My body ached & I couldn’t get warm… I was surrounded by wine; but the remedy at hand was my “party” box of tea. I made a selection: chamomile.
I put my bag into a steaming glass of water (yes… I actually drink my tea in an oversized wine glass). I love the soft fragrance of chamomile that fills the glass like the bouquet of a beautiful wine. The very smell begins to work its magic effect… it’s like I just stepped into an herb garden brimming with summer sun.
I sip and remember the taste… and this time I am brought back to the first time I tried Chamomile Tea… it was in the 5th floor office at Chipp and I was 20 something (an early 20 something). I picked up the tea from Charles & Co on Madison Avenue. I don’t know why I picked it up; but I lucked into a flavour that had a soothing effect on me. It wasn’t like I was a “no caffeine” freak or anything… I simply liked its slightly medicinal taste.
But there was someone in the office who did not appreciate my excursion into this herbal tea: Ada Weingreen. Ada worked part time for us, filing away the copious amount of paper records we had. She was an older woman and I loved her. She was a little blonde Irish woman… a little blonde Irish Jewish woman… and she had a brogue you could cut with a knife. Talk about anomalies! My ear is accustomed to Jewish people sounding a certain way… hearing Ada speak with that distinctive Irish lilt was as improbable as hearing Bill Cosby tell a Jewish accent joke…
Ada was powerfully proud of both her heritages. She pointed out that the Lord Mayor of Dublin at that time was Jewish, and she herself marched in the St. Patrick’s Day Parade with a small contingent of Hebrew Friends of Erin.
Ada was very well read and was delightful story teller. But the day I made Chamomile tea, she was lightening quick to tell me how she found the very smell of chamomile tea to be purely vile. I thought she was kidding.
No. The very next day I was brewing up another cup of chamomile tea, when she repeated that the smell was making her nauseous. In disbelief I questioned her, “You must be kidding, Ada…”
“No I’m in earnest. When I was a little girl and if I was sick or had an upset stomach my Mother would make me drink chamomile tea. And the very thought of drinking that tea makes me sick all over again. In fact I can’t possibly imagine that you are actually enjoying it… it would make me throw up!”
Each to his or her own, I guess. Maybe her Mother didn’t know about regular tea… with honey and lemon.
I take another sip of my tea. Smile at the warm memory of Ada. Feel the warmth of the tea beginning to restore me… the delicacy of the flavour softening the ache and the chill. I look around the room… any new objectors to chamomile tea? No. Good. Time to get serious about enjoying this glessela of tea.