Showing posts with label Smoke. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Smoke. Show all posts

Monday, November 26, 2012

QUIET AMONG THE LEAVES

Years ago I loved autumn in Valkenswaard.  North Brabant, in fall, has marvelous colours and smells, and in addition to the tannic odour of the forests around town and the golds and bronzes along the roads through the farm areas, there were parts in the very centre of Valkenswaard which where glorious. Though modest about it; one had to be receptive and attuned. Most people will probably not see much special in small streets with low mean houses jammed together, with drifts of crunchy leaves along the very narrow sidewalks.

One such street terminated at the triangular square outside the factory gates of Willem II Cigars, one of the last rolling enterprises in a town whose prosperity had grown up in smoke.
There were trees there. Many trees. Early in the morning the fecund pong of fermenting tobacco from Indonesia and the Caribbean already dominated the air, combining with a dusty reek from fallen leaves in deep drifts along the eastern edge, where a row of drinking establishments welcomed the working classes.
Those bars were not open then, but one previous evenings they had been doing a booming business.
Stable adults early on, gradually replaced by younger wilder individuals, till at midnight the future of the town seemed entirely doubtful - the generation that would inherit the place seemed composed entirely of crazed yobbos listening to bad music.

Word to the wise: only drink with mature individuals.
There's less chance of insanity that way.


THE NATIVE CLAIM TO FAME

The smell of cigars, both in the manufacturing stage, and post-production, was a background perfume for the entire town. Old men smoked stubby bolknak cigars (a bolknak is a turd-like torpedo shape, thick in the middle and narrowing at both ends, like Anne Elk's brontosaurus), refined ladies in their middle years, who knew what they wanted, favoured half-coronas or tuit-knakjes (a tuit-knak is like a bolknak, but shorter and more elegant, often better tobacco), gallant young men preferred "wild" cheroots with an untrimmed floss at the end, or senoritas, which are rather like a lancero in ring gauge, but only half that length. There were many shapes, and a multitude of qualities.
Local cigars were mostly machine-made products, but only a few generations ago half the town spent all their time stripping central veins from leaves, layering the tobacco to ferment and mature, spraying on moisture to make it pliable, then bunching, and rolling the cigars by hand. The finished products were once sold as far afield as Moscow and Saint Petersburg, but were most avidly consumed within the narrow Netherlandish confine.

In Autumn, around the fabriekspoort square, the dominant leaf was quite unsmokeable, but delightfully crisp underfoot. Especially just after dawn, when the fog that had blanketed the town overnight still sluggishly dissipated. Trees lined the street that led indirectly to the Kleine Markt and the Leenderweg, and with scarcely any other souls about one could imagine oneself in another world. From somewhere a fragrance of coffee might drift, to remind one that the day was starting soon. Occasionally a passing bicyclist would ride crunchily through a sea of fallen leaves, providing the only sound so early.
Halflight eventually gave way to day.

Obviously these are fond memories. Willem II cigars are no longer made in Valkenswaard, and the Hofnar factory also closed down years ago.
Tobacco has ceased to be a significant element of local life.
But there is a museum that shows artifacts from that age.


AN ELSEWHERE ECHO

Here in San Francisco, cigars stopped being made far further back. The tabacaleras that once occupied industrial hutchings and basements in Chinatown disappeared at least a generation before the world war. Cigar smokers in this day and age are considered irredeemably depraved, possibly even conservative! Quelle horreur!
Enlightened people pull up their narrow noses at even the concept.
Damned wheatgerm freaks.

There are many trees along Hyde Street, past Washington both sides are dense with foliage. At intersections lights fade and flicker among the trembling leaves, and when fog covers the city at night glowing orbs at regulated distances guide the sight in four directions.
My friend the bookselling amphibian and I will once a week smoke a few cigarillos together at the end of an evening, after having contemplatively enjoyed some whiskey at a place whose name I will not mention, because I do not wish it to become any more popular than it is.
Long after closing time we will wander up Pacific between Nob and Telegraph, till we come to Hyde Street. Here we stop for the final smoke before parting.
It is my favourite intersection.
Quite otherworldly at three in the morning, and timeless at that time.

It always reminds me of the triangle outside the cigar factory.
It is the same, but not the same; it is different, but equivalent.

And, at times, it is fragrant.


Last night Nob Hill was beautiful in the fog.
Now is Autumn, there are fallen leaves.
I just thought you should know.
You were probably asleep.




TOBACCO INDEX


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Tuesday, February 23, 2010

ANTISOCIAL AND DISCRIMINATING

It is raining today. Which, if you are a normal person, means that you will get wet. If on the other hand you are a non-smoker you will be inside breathing stale recycled air and fervently wishing that your coworkers had never discovered beans. Or lentils. And cruciferous vegetables.
Oh the joys of a healthy life.


WEAK LUNGS

I just finished reading an article by some insufferable Bunt who avers that smokers deliberately discriminate against people with weak lungs. Nothing could be further from the truth!
We do not discriminate, we merely wish them ill. They should choke a bit. Or be brutally whacked by a benevolent deity - in His Mercy.
Weak-lunged people have NO business being outside on the sidewalk, or even in a public place. Ever! They should stay at home and crochet. Near the humidifier.
We consider the weak-lunged to be mendacious, and deliberately provocative.


WHEEZING WUSSIES

Asthmatics are another category of monumental pain in the gand. Horrid sadists and whiners. Stuck up, and 'special'. And yes, all you people who object to the smell of tobacco need to get a life. Stop bellyaching. You already reek of gasoline fumes, regular inner-city funk and filth, and, because you stay indoors (when we are outside), stale recycled air. Plus beans and lentils. Or cruciferous vegetables.
Faugh!

If you sanctimonious do-gooders and puritanical health-nuts absolutely NEED a smoke-free environment in order to feel fulfilled and complete, go to a bar. Please drink as much as you want. It's your liver.
I'm sure you're all so full of beans due to healthy living that you won't even mind the drunken fights, loud and stupid arguments, or the inevitable alcohol-fueled unsafe sex that follows your night out. Why, you will positively enjoy all that - it does NOT involve tobacco!

Feel free to spend every night drinking yourself into a stupor in your fresh-smelling dives, then jumping into the sack with the sodden trollops of either gender who look good to your gin-bleared eyes at closing time.
Puke and have loud disputations on the street after you leave your smoke-free drinking holes.

Please engage in drunk-driving, too.

We smokers won't mind.
Most of us are very tolerant.
That's why we shan't be in the bars when you misbehave.
Besides, we will be asleep at that time; we believe in clean habits, and we seldom drink in public.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

TOBACCO COMPANIES, TOBACCO BLENDS

This post is about pipe-tobacco, and consequently there will not be much here for many of my regular readers; sorry, but I promise that there will be the usual zany antics later on - in particular something quite perverse in time for Purim.

[NOTE: There are several links scattered throughout the text below - clicking them will bring up my own posts on that subject (EXCEPTIONS: GLP and C&D).]


TOBACCO COMPANIES

Since the nineties several of the old tobacco houses have changed, due to the deaths of guiding hands and profound legal and tax developments in Britain.


DUNHILL

Dunhill blends have not been made in the British Isles since the late nineties, and have been unavailable for the past few years nearly everywhere.
British American Tobacco, which had owned the blends since Rothmans ceased to exist, quarreled with the company to which they had farmed out the manufacture.

Dunhill tobaccos were made in England till 1981, when Rothmans (who had acquired the company from Carrerras in 1972) moved manufacturing to the Murrays factory in Belfast. While a lot of later smokers praised the Murrays product in comparison to what Orlik put out, it should be remembered that the early Murrays tins were quite unsmokeable - sourcing and quality control improved considerably over the years.


RATTRAYS

Now manufactured in Germany by Kohlhase, Kopp und Co. KG (who also do Astleys, formerly of 109 Jermyn Street, as well as the blends of Robert McConnel) according to the recipes developed by Charles Rattray in Perth. The Germans are doing a decent enough job. The one thing they cannot reproduce is the microclimate of the Scottish home of these blends - moisture content in the air, temperature ranges, and the eccentric non-standardization of manufacture combined to produce some very fine tobaccos. What Charles Rattray never realized was that combining different batches of the same blend had more impact on smoking quality than his much vaunted panning method. A variety of ages united to produce richness, whereas uniformity of age and heat treatment makes for a mono-dimensional smoke.

[PLEASE NOTE: The Rattray Virginias are described in this later post: RATTRAY'S VIRGINIA TOBACCO: OLD GOWRIE, MARLIN FLAKE, BROWN CLUNEE, HAL O' THE WYND. They are excellent, still. If you age the tin for a year before popping the seal, you will have a treat. There's enough Rattrays of various ages stashed under the bed, in the book shelves, and on the desk to last quite a long while. Good stuff. ------- ATBOTH, August 12, 2013.]


SAMUEL GAWITH

Still the same, still in Kendall, boruch Hashem. An ancient company with all of the eccentricities of previous generations smoothed out by age, still producing tobacco as they believe it should be. Except for a few monumentally odd aromatics, they are right. They also make snuff.
Supplies are spotty at present - no explanation.


GAWITH HOGARTH

Less pronounceable a name than their cousin Samuel, but no less respected. More steampressing, and more aromatic disasters, but a fine company.
They also make snuff.


MURRAYS

The originators of Erinmore. Which has been described as the painted whore among the tobaccos, the veritable clapped-out harlot drenched in cheap cologne that shakes a syphilitic tit at the unwary. The factory closed in 1998 and the blends moved to Denmark. If you ever wondered why Dunhill Flake seemed reminiscent of a perfumed tart, now you know - same factory and same machines as Erinmore Flake.
Which, despite my austere Calvinist tastes, I am actually fond of, though I will not admit it.

Erinmore Flake, calmly smoked, burns down to a fine white ash, and leaves scant funk. If smoked fast, the top-dressing boils into your cake, and you will experience profound regret.


J. F. GERMAIN & SON

This company makes some very fine tobacco, both under their own flag and for Esoterica Tabaciana. Unfortunately it is becoming harder and harder to find either - blame the continentals for that, as the Europeans have become as daft as the Californians and wish to cripple the tobacco industry entirely. A good place to start the final assault is small eccentric family companies, in the estimation of Brussels.
Supplies are spotty, there is no explanation. And that is likely to continue.


BALKAN SOBRANIE

Yes, it was only a matter of time before I brought up that name - you were anxiously waiting its appearance in this text, weren't you? The company was started by an Eastern-European Jew with Russian and Southern Slav connections. He made very fine cigarettes and a limited range of pipe-tobaccos. The Balkan Sobranie Mixture in the white tin was more famous than any other product, and is no longer available. Nor could it be reproduced exactly in any case - European Tobacco laws would prevent it.

In order: Syrian Latakia, Yenidje and other Orientals, a medium flake, a lighter Virginia ribbon, a dark toasted or steamed flue-cured leaf, and something I cannot identify that wasn't tobacco. Probably deertongue, but I wouldn't stake my life on it. Combine everything except the Latakia and meld with light heat, then add the Latakia, age for a few days, and press it into the tin - which means more heat. Like many tinned tobaccos, the moisture level was upped to make it more malleable and less likely to crumble and fragment with this treatment.

Note that the preferred Syrian Latakia in the sixties and seventies was choice Shek El Bint with far more smoke-curing than is used for any Latakia-style tobacco nowadays. Consequently that exact flavour will not be possible. Yenidje may be replaced with other Greek or Macedonian tobaccos - again, not an exact match. Prilep might not be a bad choice, with Samsoun and Smyrna for a better spectrum. It is worth experimenting, but don't get your hopes up too high.
For more about the Balkan Sobranie Mixture than you would ever want to read (no exaggeration), click here: BS CLICK

[NOTE: Because this post discusses Balkan Sobranie, as of this writing it will be the very first post that you see - simply scroll down for other articles.]



Even though these companies and many others have disappeared, the situation is comparatively rosy. Here in the States we have three companies that make enough fine English tobacco to sink the empire.



GLPEASE

Greg Pease worked at Drucquer and Sons in Berkeley nearly a decade after I left that firm. He learned far more than I ever did. Drucquers was known for its English mixtures, and Greg continued that blending tradition on his own. To such commendable result in fact that his nickname on the internet is "The Dark Lord".
G. L. Pease owns Latakia in the same way that McClelland owns flake.
He has in recent years also done some very fine things with pressed tobaccos and Virginia mixtures.

[For all other posts mentioning his tobacco, click here: GLP. This post will also be shown - just scroll down to whatever you have not read yet. Same rule holds for some of the links embedded elsewhere in this post.]


CORNELL & DIEHL - CRAIG TARLER

Despite having a peculiar fondness for Burley tobaccos, Craig produces some of the best blends in the business. As well as manufacturing Greg Pease's blends. If you are so inclined you can purchase many blending tobaccos from his company, or simply order the blends that your local tobacconist does not stock.
I particularly recommend Red Odessa.
Yale Mixture and Old College are also very fine products.
His flakes are excellent and deservedly well regarded.


MCCLELLAND

By now this company has the hoary veneer of respectable age, having been founded over a quarter of a century ago, and many of the other tobacco houses having disappeared since then. This company is famous for pressed Virginia, on which they more or less base all their products. They also employ heat and steam for particular effects. Many house blends at local tobacco stores are bulk McClelland mixtures; many other retailers depend on blending tobaccos supplied by McClelland. Not everyone likes them. But without them, pipe smoking in America might have disappeared.
You can find out everything you need to know about them elsewhere.



With GLPease, Cornell & Diehl, and McClelland in the market, we need not worry overmuch at present. These three are keeping America's smokers more than adequately supplied with high quality pipe-tobacco.



BLENDING A BALKAN MIXTURE

Balkan Sobranie Mixture as made by Gallagher was probably around 36.00% Latakia, 24.00% Oriental (Yenidje etcetera), 32.00% Mixed Virginias, and 8.00% Black Virginia (steamed and baked, rather than pressed or fired), or an unflavoured Black Cavendish.
Black Virginia is quite unavailable nowadays, and unflavoured Black Cavendish is extremely hard to find.

If you simply want to blend a good Balkan, you may increase the proportion of Latakia or Virginia - the Oriental is nearly at full capacity anyhow, and as long as you use some remarkable Virginias you can not go wrong.

Fluffed flake should not be much more than the other Virginias unless you are aiming for a slow and almost boring blend; ribbon Virginias increase smokeability, but also heat and tongue-bite.
Plain Cavendish is smooth, and doesn't add much flavour - it can be used in lieu of too much yellow ribbon.

Toasted Cavendish (actually fire-cured Kentucky) up to one twelfth of the total adds depth and body. Any more and you might end up with something too acrid.

If you use Perique, be discreet. Optimum percentages are between four and eight.

Avoid dark pressed (black) flake as a blending tobacco. It doesn't really work, as it is only narrow-range compatible. Which means Virginia mixtures and nearly nothing else.


Final note: Do NOT create a Latakia dump. While Latakia is a remarkable tobacco, it works best in concert with others, not as a solo. Anything over fifty percent is both juvenile and excessive - maximum 45% is plenty. You can increase the dark component of your blend by adding unflavoured black Cavendish (if you can find any) and Toasted Cavendish (which is actually similar to Burley and other air-cured leaf).
Doing so will produce something remarkably Scottish in character, which is probably what you want anyway.


LABELS

For further reading, do please note all the labels underneath this post. Clicking any one of them will bring up all posts which have those labels appended - today, this post is on top of the heap (and you have already read it) so simply scroll down to the next one.




TOBACCO INDEX


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NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
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Friday, October 02, 2009

HOBBIT SMOKE - VIRGINIA WOODS

Three days ago I purchased some tins of a tobacco which I had never tasted before, but did not intend to smoke for quite a while, seeing as I have a sufficiency of already opened tins that need to be diminished first.

And I stated so in this post:
http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/09/nasty-hot-twiggy-bizarre-nauseating.html


The tobacco was described by various reviewers in the most unflattering terms. Bizarre, head-ache inducing, tasting like pencil eraser, and leaving your tongue feeling like it had been napalmed.
[Per some of the cognoscenti here: http://www.tobaccoreviews.com/ in this section:
http://www.tobaccoreviews.com/blend_detail.cfm?ALPHA=V&TID=785 ]


Their horrid statements perked my curiosity no end, but I was firm in my resolve; I would wait several months ere trying it myself.

Ummm.
Bought an extra tin, for sampling, two days ago. So much for firm resolve.
Yes.


VIRGINIA WOODS
McClelland Tobacco Company

"Formulated for a smooth, rich flavor with an incomparable woodsy aroma. Blended from matured Red Cake, Stoved Black Virginia, wide-cut Bright Virginia and other premium tobaccos."


Trust me, the idiots who panned it didn't know what they were talking about.
It's not bad at all.

Virginia Woods is a variegated mixture of ribbon-cut leaf, that once aired (to get rid of the excess moisture) yields a pleasant and not particularly complicated smoke. There is a note of natural sweetness.

Anyone familiar with the Baai Tabak (ribbon-cut mixtures of aircured and fluecured tobaccos) once commonly available in the Netherlands will recognize much here that is charming. No, it isn't something you can hot-box; inveterate smokers of Oriental mixtures should probably avoid it, along with people who only understand flakes. This tobacco is not for you.

I am very pleased with this product, and will probably finish the tin well before the end of the month. Normally I am not too impressed with McClelland, but this is one product that in my estimation has much virtue.


1974 - 1978

McClelland's Virginia Woods reminds me pleasurably of my mis-spent youth (mid-teens in Valkenswaard, North Brabant, Netherlands).
Summer afternoons in the upstairs living room, dust motes dancing in the sunbeams, a soughing in the leaves of the apple tree in the courtyard. Few other sounds: the rustling of a page being turned, a clink of a teacup.
My nose again recalls the faint aromas in the vicinity of my dad's desk - a smoke echo, the pale metallic perfume of the alloys formerly used in drafting equipment, inks, and the armpitty tang of sharpened pencils.

This tobacco may leave you a little light-headed. Virginias tend towards nicotine. But you will be of good cheer. Have some tea.




TOBACCO INDEX


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NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
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Friday, September 25, 2009

INTERNATIONAL TOBACCONIST CONSPIRACY

A correspondent who is newly posted to the barbaric hinterlands sent a plea that speaks volumes of the primitive hickville swamp-burg where he is in exile.

Well, actually, that is not quite correct.
It really indicates that he is seriously buckling down and working, rather than off gallivanting around town with the hot hot hot shiksas.
Oh, those zesty native girls. A hardship.

He asked "how does one order a 50g tin of Dunhill London Mixture via the intertubes?"

The question establishes three things.
He is spending much time at his desk with the books.
He is running out of stuff to smoke.
He has good taste.


"How does one order a 50g tin of Dunhill London Mixture via the intertubes?"


With an excess of faith.
That's how one orders London Mixture.
Seriously, good luck. It may no longer be available.

There are several stores that do business over the internet.
I have dealt with these two:

Cup O` Joes: http://www.cupojoes.com/

PipesandCigars.com: http://www.pipesandcigars.com/



ALTERNATIVES

In lieu of Dunhill London Mixture, you might like Cornell & Diehl's Red Odessa. It has less Turkish, but is a profoundly old-fashioned style English blend.
Of course there's also the GLPease stuff - Westminster comes to mind - but that may not be what you are looking for.
[I say this because I know that you have been exposed to much of the Dark Lord's domain. If it satisfied you, you would not need to consult me.]

Other good medium-range English mixtures with a Turkish overtone are Peterson's Old Dublin, Esoterica (actually Germain's) Margate, and J. F. Germain & Sons Latakia Mixture or King Charles Mixture.
All are deliciously degenerate.

There's also Samuel Gawith's Squadron Leader - a perfect Balkan style blend, very old fashioned, nicely reeky. Bit of a broad cut, which makes it a little hard to get used to, but once you've got the rhythm of it, delightful.



ADVICE TO EVERYONE, NOT JUST TOBACCO MAIVENS

In regards to "read-testing" a blend before you buy it, tobacco reviews dot com (http://www.tobaccoreviews.com/browse_all.cfm) is a good resource, and can be very amusing, as a pipe smoker who realizes he just spent fifteen dollars on a tin of boggy sphagnum he would never touch again, even if it were the last tobacco on earth, becomes a very angry, very venomous, very eloquently foaming at the mouth critic. Such a man's review will spill out in lyric sputtering rage exactly how he feels about the heart-wrenching loss of fifteen bucks. The heavens will tremble, the earth will shake, and all the world will know of his agony, despair, and righteous indignation, by gum. He has been robbed, and he seeks justice!

Many of such reviews are seriously good reading.
You will really feel for the bereaved cheapskate.
Or resolve to rib him without mercy if ever you meet him.

==============================================

On a different note, I think I have succeeded in blending Arcadia. Arcadia is properly called the Craven A Mixture, which was formerly produced by Carrerras, and has long been unavailable.


ARCADIA

The writer J. M. Barrie was a customer of Carrerras at Wardour Street during the 1890s. His book 'My Lady Nicotine' mentions the Arcadia Mixture, which he later admitted was actually Craven A. With Barrie's approval Carrerras featured this in his advertising, thus cementing the association of Craven A with Arcadia - which Arthur Conan Doyle subsequently drove home in 'The Crooked Man': "Hum! You still smoke the Arcadia mixture of your bachelor days, then!" (Holmes to Watson upon entering the latter's bachelor digs).
[See: http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Crooked_Man
From 'The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes', by Arthur Conan Doyle, published in 1894.]


Arcadia was heavier on the Orientals than a regular English blend, though lighter on Latakia than you would assume. It had a range of Virginias for several different notes of flavour, and a touch of Kentucky ("Toasted Cavendish") to accentuate the Turkish.

Drucquer & Sons had a blend called Arcadia when I worked there in the seventies and eighties. It was quite good - very Oriental, though with a smidge too much Kentucky.
McClelland acquired a decades-old tin of the Craven A Mixture in the late nineties or early two-thousands, and analyzed it meticulously, eventually producing 'Arcadia' as part of their Sherlock Holmes series. It is decent, but it has that well-known McClelland characteristic, and to my mind far too heavy a Virginia taste.
Craig Tarler of Cornell & Diehl avers that his Yale Mixture is in fact the nearest approximation of the famous blend. I will gladly admit that I am fond of it, and will attest that it is a very fine product indeed.

But personally, I think they're all wrong. Of course.
What I have comes closest to Arcadia.

Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener.
Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener.
Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener.
Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener.
Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener.




TOBACCO INDEX


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Wednesday, February 25, 2009

SOMETHING HE SAID .....

Now is a good time to remember the people of the past. I don't know why, it just feels that way.
My mother died in 1977 in springtime, a few days before her birthday. She had been sick for seven years, and we had seen her fade from able-bodied and mobile to substantially non-ambulatory, though up till a few days before her death, still vibrantly alive, and alive with stubbornness.

For long after she passed away the evidence of her life still surrounded us. Her vast book collection, in every room of the house. Her objets d'art. Her antique Bohemian crystal. Her Waterford. And the collection of exceptional teacups and saucers.

Her tastes in colours, textures, and literature, had been bold. It was from her that I learned to read Beowulf in Old-English, Gretir's Saga in Old-Norse. Both of those languages are a bit beyond me now, but I can still hack my way through the Green Knight and several other oddities.

The collection of teacups and saucers lived on the tea trolley in the dining room, in the corner. The dining room was my brother's realm (we never actually ate there). His chess books lined the walls, his Dickens and Proust were on the table. Odds and ends which fascinated him were on the mantelpiece. We did not enter save by his leave.
But the tea-trolley was hers. And the teacups and saucers breathed age, grace, a style of living.

I had my own favourite tea cup and saucer in the sera, where I often sat until deep at night reading and smoking. It was not antique, and not even very nice, being a rather pedestrian blue and white pattern mass-produced in kilns from Yokohama to Tierra del Fuego. But it was bowl-like, deep and broad, and showed off the green-amber glow of jasmine tea nicely, cooling it down to drinkability in moments. My teacup. In imitation of hers.

In retrospect, I spent the better part of my adolescence zipped to the gills on caffeine. Whacked out of my mind. No wonder my classmates did not consider me sane, I bounced from the walls and gibbered. But caffeine is a drug that blesses the addict. Just as Doctor Johnson stayed up till all hours while off his rocker on tea, so likewise did I explore science fiction, English and Dutch poetry, Kipling, Maugham, Nabokov, mediaeval history, and everything I could lay my hands on that spoke of Afghanistan, Samarkand, India, South East Asia, and China, till far far past midnight.
I learned much of the world, and absorbed entire empires. Tea and books - boruch Hashem.


That summer I moved my reading and tea-drinking out to the patio. When it rained one could sit under the broad corrugated overhang and enjoy the cooling humidity. My pipe smoke would curl back and into the house through the French doors, and eventually my brother might come out and join me, or merely move from the dining room into the sera, where in silence he moved the pieces across the board, pondered, leafed through his book. We did not speak much. We really had less in common at night than during the day, though both of us were night people.

He hated my pipe, and thought the jasmine tea an affectation (which it was).
I did not obsess over chess (a failing, I admit), and preferred devouring the printed page at great speed, rather than dawdling over it at length as he did.
He would sit for hours in the stillness and in thought.
Click. Hmmm. Click - another move. A rustle of paper as he read the analysis of the game. Long pause, click again.

In the silence of the night, when the conditions are right - dry Latakia tobacco, humidity in the air, and a certain light - I can still hear the clack of chess pieces, hear the flick of one page, as he reviews the games of the masters.

Tobias passed away in 1992. And I miss him.



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