MISSING IN ACTION

The last smoke of the night was aged Red Virginia Flake in a Peterson pipe I've had since my college days. When I got back to my building, the sound of retching and breaking bottles was audible from the bars on Polk Street; some of my fellow San Franciscans might not be dealing well with things. At the bus stop, under the acacia trees, someone was sitting on a lawn chair at a fold-out table smoking a cigarette. A distinct silhouette. Probably not waiting for transport, just enjoying the cold night air and the sometimes quiet.

I retired to the teevee room and opened up the internet. Checked out the Covid numbers, read the news, saw who had commented underneath my social media postings.


TOFU

Regarding my apartment mate's statement that tofu is manna, manna is tofu, which fell from the heavens for forty years to feed the wandering Israelites, and that Jesus could have enjoyed tofu if he wanted, Isaac in New York wrote: "Another parallel: some people say you could make manna taste like whatever you wanted, but that’s clearly not true, since after eating it for long enough everybody’s sick to death of it, on account of its weird texture and blandness."

"Numbers 11:4 And the riffraff among them felt a powerful craving, and also the Israelites said “Who can give us some meat!? 11:5 We remember the fish that we would eat gratis in Egypt, and the cucumbers and the melons and the leeks and the onions and the garlics. 11:6 Now our throats are shriveled! There is nothing at all; nothing but this manna before our eyes!” (11:7 So the manna was shaped like coriander seeds and its color was like tree gum. 11:8 The people would go around and gather it and grind it in millstones or pound it in a mortar and boil it in a pot and make cakes of it, and the taste was like the taste of fatty cream.)"

"Now maybe it’s just me, but something that is made into weird shapes and tastes like blandness and isn’t a good replacement for meat, that sounds like tofu to me."

[Numbers: Bamidbar - "in the wilderness". Fourth book of the Torah (Pentateuch). My apartment mate: Something tells me this Cantonese woman is not an orthodox Biblical scholar. Coriander seed: a spice which is essential to curry.]

Spiros, on the other hand, jumped directly to exploding whale cadaver. His culinary memories have little to do with scripture, unless that was an oblique reference to the book of Job.
No mention of gourds or egg plant.
So perhaps not.


TESTS

Terry in eastern Tennessee. Just sitting in his car waiting for his wife to get her lab work done, drinking his coffee and reading his book. And smoking his pipe. Pronounces 'coffee' like 'caw-fey'. It's sunny there, a lovely morning. Probably warmish. He smokes PS 17 English Luxury.

[English Luxury "A characteristic English mixture, developed from mellow Georgian Virginias, black cavendish, Mexican burleys and Cyprian Latakia, a classic. Mild to medium strength." Somewhat light on the Latakia. A friendly solid tobacco that can be smoked all day. Reliable. Described by some as 'Scottish', because of the Cavendish. Noticeable sweetness, and a woody, earthy undertone. Great intro to the genre for people who have been whoring around among the aromatics.]

He's older than I am and has seen action. A thoughtful retired gentleman.


TEA

Because it's restful long after dark, a pipe followed by a glass of tea is very enjoyable. Having a nap in late afternoon means that despite two or three hours up during the night, I do not stint on sleep despite rising at an ungodly hour, when normal people are either still asleep or walking their dog. Or, irritatingly, jogging.

My apartment mate is an early riser, and bouncing with energy at this time. Which is something I cannot quite understand; I'm grumpy until the first cup of coffee and the first smoke spark the synapses and kick-start the bile.

I miss the old days. I do not miss people so much, but I do miss my favourite venues, where I could observe other human beings without getting involved. I am not very social. Friendly but reserved. I miss occasional wit. Wandering around Chinatown and North Beach late at night. Brightness, a bit of noise. The shifting light and shade in alleyways.

Mostly, at the present time I miss warmer weather.

I do not miss the rains down in Africa.

TOBACCO INDEX


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