Ginger Tea with Friends and Strangers
In addition to Mark Bittman, I have another new crush. It's on the poet Naomi Shihab Nye who Emily and I saw last night as part of this season's Seattle Arts and Lectures series at Benaroya Hall. I am still basking in everything she said, her haunting poems, sweet smile (she signed my book), sense of humor, and the way she uses language to promote peace and reconciliation. Emily and I have been exchanging little remembrances and bits of poems all day via email. I just love that, in a world of tweeter (I know it's Twitter. I was making a joke) Seattleites are still packing out halls to hear poetry. I cut her picture from the program and put it on my bulletin board. Then I took a picture of that. I'm leaving it up for awhile as a reminder of how I want to be in the world.
She read a poem called Red Brocade, and I knew two things immediately. 1) I had to have the book no matter what and 2) This poem was going in today's post. Thankfully, 19 Varieties of Gazelle: Poems of the Middle East was in paperback for just $6.99. Also, thankfully, some of you now trust me enough to let me talk about poetry instead of food. Don't worry. This is still about food. And so much more.
Naomi (we're sort of friends since she signed my book, so I'm dropping formalities) is Palestinian-American, and has lot of relatives and friends in Palestine who are suffering. She writes about the human cost of war in a way that makes you put down the book and cry. And yet she's not a pessimist--not even close. She celebrates the smallest, most intimate beauties in everyday life, honoring people she loves and strangers she's never met.
This poem praises the power of food to bring people together and the magic of hospitality. And it gives us a little chiding about the curse of busyness. It's my new anthem.
Red Brocade
Naomi Shihab Nye, from 19 Varieties of Gazelle
The Arabs used to say,
When a stranger appears at your door,
feed him for three days
before asking who he is,
where he’s come from,
where he’s headed.
That way, he’ll have strength
enough to answer.
Or, by then you’ll be
such good friends
you don’t care.
Let’s go back to that.
Rice? Pine Nuts?
Here, take the red brocade pillow.
My child will serve water
to your horse.
No, I was not busy when you came!
I was not preparing to be busy.
That’s the armor everyone put on
to pretend they had a purpose
in the world.
I refuse to be claimed.
Your plate is waiting.
We will snip fresh mint
into your tea.
-------------------------------
I refuse to be claimed! I refuse to be claimed by a culture that says achieving is more important than loving. I refuse to be too busy to eat together, refuse to wear busyness like a badge of honor. I want to lay out the "red brocade pillow" for friends and strangers. I'm a long way from always doing it without hesitation, but I'm getting closer.
I love the line "We will snip fresh mint/into your tea." Maybe because I just planted a little mint pot last weekend (and you know my obsession with mint). Or maybe because offering a drink to someone is the first thing I do when they walk in the door. Or maybe because it gives me a simple, delicious way to make this poetry posting into a food posting.
I've been noticing lately how many people in my life don't drink coffee, caffeinated tea, or alcohol. This is something I can offer them that's still a treat, something that says, "Here--sit on the best pillow." You don't have to use fresh mint. I've made it many times with just lemon, ginger, and honey. You can also brew peppermint or green tea and use that as a base instead of water.
This won't surprise some of you, but I'm tearing up as I write today because this blog has given me unimagined ways to lay out the red brocade pillow. Thank you for sharing tea with me so often even if we can't be in the same kitchen.
Ginger Lemon Tea with Fresh Mint
(double if more than two people are drinking it)
3 cups boiling water
juice of one lemon + 1/2 lemon, thinly sliced
one inch chunk of ginger, peeled and thinly sliced
at least 4 Tb. honey (can make it sweeter if you want)
handful fresh mint leaves
In a tempered glass beaker or teapot, put lemon juice, lemon slices, ginger, and honey. Pour hot water over and stir. Add mint at the last minute. It will get brown, but still look and taste delicious. You can also let this sit around to cool and then pour it over ice later.
May 8, 2009
Reader Comments (12)
I'm one of the no tea, no caffeine sorts.
But?
Bring on the booze!
sarah, thank you for laying out the red brocade pillow for me countless times. i am a much better person because of our friendship. and, i will accept ANY drink you give me, ANYTIME. :)
thank-you sarah...you will lay out your red brocade pillow till it is frayed beyond recogition, the threads weaving into your life as your sharing & love weaves into all around you
i've had the version made with peppermint tea bags (LOVE) but look forward to trying this.
and thank you for the introduction to n.s.n. this poem does resonate + hit a certain chord; i look forward to more time with her.
my dear little sarah,
your are successful in so many areas of your life , but the area that has always made me so proud of you,is your ability to love not only friends but strangers alike. ANYONE and EVERYONE, is always welcome, and made to feel at home with you, and there is always time for a cup of tea, and a plate waiting. thanks for reminding us to extend a hand, to make time for tea, and more importantly, thanks for living what you believe. i love you more than "all the tea in china"
I'm a pastor. Wearing the badge of busyness seems all too often to be the entrance pass into pastoral prestige. Looking at the life of Jesus convinces me that this is a ridiculous means of affirmation. Thanks, Sarah, for the encouragement to drink the decaf version of life.
okay, papa. you just got out of surgery and you're posting a coherent comment. amazing. I guess I'm in the middle of grilling peppers and making cookies, and I'm posting comments, too. I'm in good company. xoxo
Sister,
I'm at the online coffee company supposedly working on a retreat flyer before work, but instead I'm reading your blog crying. I started at the top loving your mother's day postings about your day and the things you love about your mom so that softened me up. And those kids running with you????? I love them. Maybe that's where Patty Griffin got her album title?
But this Naomi Shihab Nye post got me until tears were spilling over.
Thank you Sarah.
If you want to pursue the thread of "food+growing up Arab-American" try the memoir "The Language of Baklava" by Diana Abu-Jaber. Contains my now-standard recipe for baba ghanouj.
Sarah,
We at Seattle Arts & Lectures are so pleased that you enjoyed the events! I think your post is a beautiful example of how the digital age lets us share our appreciation for the physical things, like books and face-to-face meetings with amazing writers.
We hope to see you at another event!
Best,
Rachel Aronson
Seattle Arts & Lectures
Sarah-
I was drawn to your site because of your amazing Sweet and Spicy Pecan recipe...but I explored much further because of your voice. How lucky I was to discover this posting and recipe next. While I feel a bit like I'm intruding on a personal conversation, I also feel as though your kindness is genuine and welcoming. Thank you for your words and recipes. And for going deep in a world where many remain on the surface. Your caring heart warmed mine.
-Amanda
Hi Amanda! What a sweet note this is. Thank you. You're not intruding at all. You are very, very welcome here.