The subtle charms of Hoji-Cha

Delight shone into my eyes at my first sip of Hoji-cha. As the evening sun danced in the golden-red tea, the soothing aroma and the relaxing taste made up for the long day.

Ever since, the roasted green-tea has brought life to my evening study sessions. It would be an exaggeration and an understatement at the same time, but Hojicha, along with Matsutake mushrooms, are the greatest gifts of the Asian world. Matsutake, incidentally, deserves one full entry on its own, so I won't dwell upon it here. Instead, I dedicate this essay as an ode to the subtle charms of Hojicha.

If you were to taste Hojicha as your first thing in the morning, when "rise and shine!" is the call, you wouldn't appreciate half as much as you would when the call is "lage raho!". Inhaling the aroma of the roasted leaves, roasted as if to reflect your hard work, is akin to confiding in a pal who has been through what you are going.

Hojicha does not take away the thirst, but the desire to let the sensation linger just those few moments on your taste buds keeps you thirsty. It makes you thirsty, too, for that one last attempt at the unsolved problem, or one calm sleep, and beautiful dreams. Dreams of a hard and fruitful day, and a cup as the sun goes down.

Indulgence it maybe, yes, but it is indulgence for the deserving.