It is never the less 十分之十香香滑滑。
Sapfan ji sap heung heung gwat gwat.
As it should be.
Pouring it through a "silk-stocking" gives it that velvety mouthfeel, because of the dust-like particles that pass through the material. And it isn't really a silk-stocking, but actually a tight wove sackcloth bag, which eventually becomes pickled by the huge amount of tea it sees before it gives up the ghost. The droopy draggy appearance makes it resemble silk-stockings that have seen better days, and now bag and sag around the knees and ankles of the auntie who insists that they are still good, they can still be worn, and WHY are you looking at her calves, you dirty old man!
Really, men are just TOO interested in legs!
Yes. Yes we are. We've never understood WHY you want skinny anorexic model legs, we can't stand sticks. We like pins with a bit of curve to them. Legs of heft, that beg to be clutched. Stroked. Petted. Legs that glow nicely in the angled directional light that brings out their enchanting definition, especially when they are sheathed in stockings.
That's why we drink the tea.
To remind us.
It is delicious. Absolutely yummy. Despite using 煉奶 (lin naai - condensed milk) instead of 淡奶 (daam naai - leche evaporada), as is customary.
If it were earlier in the day, I'd load up a pipe to smoke while enjoying my cup of tea. But, even though my apartment mate isn't home yet -- she is probably off seeing the love of her life -- it is not certain how much longer she'll be out this evening. Probably no later than ten, so there isn't enough time for the apartment to air out before she returns. Normally I allow four hours for that process before I re-open the door to her room.
At some point we may have to move into a bigger place. One with at least one extra room that I can convert into a man-cave. In expectation of that eventually happening, I've already named said space "badger's belvedere". And I conceive of it as overlooking an overgrown garden area, or perhaps a courtyard with too many potted plants. Bamboo slat blinds, and tall bookcases right up to the ceiling. A desk with a lamp near the window, and a long chair where one might fall asleep during warm nights.
It's a fantasy -- there is no warmth in San Francisco -- but the thought of a library with plenty of ventilation where one could spend a while quietly smoking and reading is exceedingly pleasant.
There might also have to be another extra chamber, in case I ever end up in a relationship again. Everybody needs a space of their own. At present my room is what must have been intended as the living room of this apartment, and passage from Savage Kitten's quarters to the kitchen is through the hall and then briefly into my room. She usually steals past ever so quietly at breakfast time -- not realizing that the noise she makes in the bathroom, kitchen, and television room is loud enough to wake the dead.
Purely in a manner of speaking, that is.
The light-sleeping dead.
See, that's another reason for the belvedere. Savage Kitten (the apartment mate) could be making all kinds of racket in the rest of the dwelling, but the person who inexplicably will have decided that I am not a bad sort of chap of whom to be enamoured and I will be in our belvedere, peaceably having a smoke while reading our respective books. I'll be at the desk, she'll be in the long chair, and the ashtray and pot of oolong tea will be on the small table in between us.
我都係香香滑滑！
A necessary part of this is the discovery of someone deciding that I am not a bad sort of chap of whom to be enamoured. And honestly, I have no idea how that might happen. Pipe-smoking, books, and strong tea made sweet with thick dairy goop, these all tend to scare off the female of the species.
[Truth be told, I am also quite scared of them. What does one say? And how does one even start a conversation? What books do they read? ]
In this day and age, nice young women do not fall for middle-aged badgers who putter around with a piece of briar in their mouth, avidly pursuing little red-bean pastries, with their snout twitching.
It's a very nice snout. And it twitches endearingly.
Still, no. Bad bait, no buttercup.
Maybe they're shy?
Perhaps they do not know what to say if they come across such a person? And that's understandable, because starting a conversation with a complete stranger you see wandering on Waverly, Spofford, Walter Lum Place, or sitting on the bench in Hotaling Alley, can be a wee bit daunting.
So, for their convenience, here are ten (10) sure fire openings.
Any one of these could be the start of a beautiful friendship.
1) That's a lovely Peterson pipe you're smoking!
2) Gracious, is that Latakia I smell?
3) I need to sit downwind, my doctor said so.
4) You remind me of Emilio Estevez, but a bit better-looking.
5) Please recommend a few good books by dead white men.
6) What kind of pipe do you think I should smoke?
7) What are you doing during the ball game?
8) You look like you're good at nuzzling.
9) Hold me, I'm totally freezing!
10) Let's get some milk-tea!
In actual fact, it might not be a Peterson pipe. Perhaps it's a Charatan, or a Comoy. It might even be one of three Dunhills, or the pre-transition Barling billiard I acquired a while back. And it would only be Latakia if there was a romantic campfire and leather armchair undertone to the aroma. Late in the afternoon it's often a Virginia flake, sometimes with a touch of Perique. Feel free to sit downwind if you choose, I know several dead white authors, you should smoke a Peterson or a GBD, I shall not watch any part of the ballgame (and I'm open to suggestions - perhaps a nice quiet walk?), and here let me also put my coat around you you poor thing, milk-tea sounds like a splendid idea!
There's nothing quite like a nice hot cup of milk-tea!
And yes, we can go have it together.
I'd be delighted.
PS. Today it was indeed a Peterson pipe.
There are several in the rotation.
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1 comment:
When making milk-tea, I use equal parts Keemun, Assam, and English Breakfast.
Let it steep for six minutes.
Use two tall cups. Decant the tea into one, then Indian chai-wallah style pour it from a height into the other to aerate. Back and forth a few times, then add the condensed milk and a little heated regular milk to the final cup. The sweetened condensed milk provides sweetness, but the taste if left pure would be too 'ancient bovine'. Hence the addition of a little regular milk.
If you re-pour from cup to cup once or twice after this, the dairy component will also become more silky.
If using tall glasses, note that the aerating also makes the tea just barely cool enough to handle. Which is the perfect drinking temperature.
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