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Incense Ceremony for Spring Equinox 2018

Spring Koh-Doh

Ceremonies are a combination of the meticulously planned steps and procedures, and the chemistry or effect this process has with the people attending. I believe it's the latter who really sets the tone and brings out the essence or spirit of the ceremony and its intent.

Yesterday I conducted an incense ceremony to celebrate the arrival of spring. Things did not go quite as planned in terms of attendance. So I ended up actually having two ceremonies: A prep one with Miss T, my Sister-in-law, 3 nephews, and baby niece, in which we had lots of laughs trying not to blow off the ashes in which the charcoal is buried.
We started off by "warming up" our noses with a few simple ingredients (patchouli, vetiver, sandalwood, ambrette seeds; then we went through all the six ouds I have in my collection and finished off with some special neriko that was gifted to me by incense friends). I spent most of the night before in a sweat lodge and felt it was really important, after all the cleansing and sweating and burning off negativity and challenges - to invite sweetness into the spring.

Here are some brief notes from the ouds we've experienced that afternoon:

Hakusi (spicy/hot incense from Vietnam): Musky, animalic, woody, changes a lot throughout burning. Perhaps can be classified as Manaka.

Ogurayama (sweet incense from Vietnam): Sweet indeed, dreamy and rich. My nephew called out with a big smile: "It's a Garden of Eden for candy".

Kokonoe no Kumo (Indonesian raw aloeswood): Powdery, mild and bittersweet. Reminiscent of marzipan, playdoguh and heliotrope. 

Tsukigase (Vietnamese raw aloeswood): Weak and a little hot/peppery.

Assam Aud (gift from Persephenie): Camphoreous, hot-spicy, yet at the same time dry, yet sweet; or perhaps cool-sweet. Smells a lot like Japanese body incense.

Papua Shimuzu (Gift from Ensar Oud):Desert-dry at first, woody, bitter, acrid and perhaps a little sour to. A little like sandalwood. Perhaps can be classified as Rakoku.

The evening ceremony I actually had to cancel because of too many last minutes cancellations, and still there was someone who did not register at all, and actually was the only one who showed up (!). I forgot those things tend to happen, and feel bad that those who intended to come missed out. We had an impromptu ceremony that was not quite as I planned, but still fantastic. We burned what I felt intuitively was the right materials for her, and we had a pace that was responsive to her experience, in terms of toning down or up the intensity and switching materials when she had an overwhelming reaction to something. We burnt patchouli, vetiver, sandalwood and one type of oud (Papua Shimuzu).

Last but not least, here are the details of what was my intended ceremony. Koh-doh ceremonies are at an interesting cross between oud-binge, poetry reading, calligraphy and olfactory identification games. In that spirit, I planned out an event to celebrate Hanami's anniversary with the poem that inspired it. This poem and the associations I have with it dictated which materials we were going to burn, each symbolizing a particular aspect of the poem:

Metro Station: Vetiver rootlets, for their dusty, cool-woody and somewhat metallic scent

Faces in the Crowd: Costus root, for its oily scalp smell like many people on a train and the forced intimacy that happens in such crowded areas.

Sakura Blossoms: Either a Rose Nerikoh (by Yuko Fukami), cherry blossom incense stick, or ume blossom incense pellets that are shaped as actual flowers (see above photo).

Wet, black bough: Oud of some sort - preferably one with more "watery" or "cool" feel to it, rather than the hot, bitter, sweet ones, etc. For example: Assam agar wood.



Buds

Black Cottonwood Bud

In the wake of the northern spring, the world comes to life in different stages. Some trees burst with flowers long ago and are now in the decaying stages that lead to seed. Others are in the peak of their bloom. And some are still seemingly dead.

As you pass near lifeless-looking trees, a surprising smell may penetrate your nose: the scent of vanilla, resin and honey. Although it's all-around cuddly and cozy, there is also something sharp and green about it, that pierces through the nostrils like blades of grass. To the uninitiated, this smell, coming out of nowhere, is a complete mystery. To those in the know, this heavenly scent is a comforting, familiar reminder of the resurrection of black cottonwood buds, which will soon be covered with handsome, shiny green leaves, and will continue to manage this sweet scent for the months of summer.

Each bud is reddish brown, reminiscent of an insect, and green on the inside, drenched in sticky, drippy reddish-orange resin that is reminds me of propolis and pollen simultaneously. Herbalists prepare an infusion of these buds that has healing properties for muscle pains and skin ailments. I like it just for the scent, so I tincture them in alcohol (you can find this note in Komorebi).




The Allure of Charoset


Charoset (or Haroset) is one of those obscure Jewish foods, prepared and eaten only once a year in Passover (mostly just during the Seder), and unlike the beloved Matzoh ball, it is hardly known to non-Jews. 

When I first saw it as a child I was neither particularly enticed by its appearance, nor seduced by the sounds of its name (which sounds like a disease). To make matters worse, it is eaten during the Seder wrapped in an odd looking "sandwich" along with horseradish (Hazeret in Hebrew) - which is also the name for mumps, not to mention a true tear-jerker and a traumatic experience for a child of any age *. 

The most common knowledge for the reason behind eating Charoset is it is representative of the mortar that our enslaved ancestors had to mix by the tonnes in Egypt. Other sages say that the Charoset is a remnant of the Paschal lamb - the sacrifice that commemorates the lamb that was slaughtered in each Jewish household in Egypt on the night of the tenth plague: the killing of the first-born. A bundle of hyssop was dipped in this poor lamb’s blood, and smeared on the door frames, as a sign for the Angel of Death to skip the Hebrew homes and spare the lives of our first-born. Hillel’s Sandwich (which I mentioned earlier) alludes to that symbolism of Charoset, as it represents eating the Paschal Lamb with the Matzoh and the Maror (bitter herbs), as directed in the Torah (Exodus 12:8).

Other sages and rabbis say that Cahroset needs to include all the fruit mentioned in Song of Songs (AKA Song of Solomon or Canticles). This poetic book signifies the unique relationship between God and his chosen people, which is read during Passover, the holiday that signifies the point in history as the birth of the Israelites as a nation. Among the fruit mentioned are apples, pomegranates, dates, figs and nuts. The spices added to the mixture (typically speaking: cinnamon and ginger) represent the pieces of straw that were added to strengthen the mortar. 

Now, Charoset greatly varies between different Ashkenazi and Sephardi Jews. Generally speaking, Ashkenazi Charoset is apple based (occasionally with pears added) and has a consistency of a dip or a spread; while Sephardi Charoset is more date-dominant, and often is formed into balls. And even within these two major ethnic groups, there are many different traditions and recipes vary greatly, for instance: Babylonian Charoset is made from Silan (date molasses) thickened with ground almonds, and I even came across a Moroccan recipe that is a paste of chestnuts, almonds and walnuts spiced with cinnamon and cloves; and some Ashkenazi recipes include raisins, while others use sugar as a sweetener; some call for pears in addition to the apples, and may use additional spices besides the cinnamon (i.e.: nutmeg, cloves, etc.). The Jews of Rome (and Italy) seem to have a balanced mixture of both, as you will soon see in the recipe I’ve received from my Italian sister in law, which was passed on to her from her great-great-grandmother, Nona Silvia Bassano from Livorno, Italy; yet surprisingly does not include any wine - an ingredient that so far has been consistently appeared in all the Charoset recipes I've researched. 

Some say that the use of fruit that brown overtime is the key for making a proper, mortar-looking Charoset. Hence using apples and pears without any lemon juice to avoid oxidation. The Jews of California have taken this one step further by making Charoset with bananas and avocados as well. I cringe to the idea of how this would look like the next day - kinda like leftovers of a smoothie, which I am sure is not a rare sight in raw-food-loving SoCal. 

I have to make a little confession: as much as I love my grandmother’s Ashkenazi Charoset, I was never able to replicate it satisfactorily in my own kitchen and have given up many years ago on trying it again. But someone asked me about Charoset and I got intrigued and looked it up in my library of cookbooks. Once I read about the Song of Songs reference to Charoset (in Phyllis and Miriyam Glazer’s “The Essential Book of Jewish Festival Cooking”), my imagination was immediately ignited, and I had to try both recipes in their book: a Yemeni Charoset and an Ashkenazi Charoset, that was very similar to my grandmother’s, except that it called for chopping the apples rather than grating them.


Ashkenazi Charoset
2 Granny Smith, Pink Lady or Gala Apples, peeled
1 cup walnuts
1/4 cup raisins, soaked in wine for 4-6hrs, or in boiled water for 15min, to soften
1 tsp raw sugar, brown sugar or palm sugar (or none if you are using sweet apples)
1/2 tsp Cinnamon powder
Pinch of freshly grated nutmeg
1-2 Tbs sweet wine

Chop the apples into tiny cubes (almost minced), or use the coarse side of a grater if you prefer a more watery consistency. Chop the soaked raisins. 
Finely mince the walnuts and add to the apples. Add the cinnamon and sugar. Keep refrigerated and use within 3-4 days. 
Can be enjoyed out of the Seder ceremony throughout the Passover week. I love it with Matzoh brei or on a potato kugel.  

Yemeni Charoset 
15 Dates, dried
15 Figs, dried
2-3 tsp Sesame Seeds, toasted **
1 tsp Cinnamon powder
1 Cardamom, freshly crushed with a mortar and pestle
1 Tbs fresh ginger root, grated
1oz dry red wine 
(adapted from Phyllis and Miriyam Glazer’s “The Essential Book of Jewish Festival Cooking”)

Nona Silvia Bassano of Livorno’s Italian Charoset 
1.5 kg Apples, finely grated
1 kg Dates, pitted and mashed
750 gr (3 cups) sugar 
300 gr Almond meal (from blanched almonds)
1 cup water
2-3 tsp Cinnamon powder ***

Boil the water and sugar to make a syrup. 
Add the almonds and continue cooking. 
Add the grated apples, and continue cooking, stirring constantly to prevent sticking to the bottom of the pot. If too watery - continue cooking for more reduction; if too dry, add a little more water. 
Add the cinnamon, and cook until the mixture starts bubbling and puffing. 

* If your parents are of the merciful type, they'll make this very sandwich with lettuce, which is a peculiarly delicious affair, and one of the significant flavours that makes this holiday forever memorable on every person's palate. 

** Optional - if you eat Kitniyot on Passover). I personally found their texture in this context to be annoying, as well as the fig seeds. Next time I am trying this with less figs, more dates and with tahini (sesame paste) instead! 

*** For a more Yemeni-style Charoset, you may add some ground cloves and cardamom, to taste.

In Praise of Stinging Nettles

Stinging Nettle by Glover747
Stinging Nettle, a photo by Glover747 on Flickr.
Stinging Nettles are a magical herb. This hardy little plant grows almost everywhere - in the wild, or amidst urban decay, providing those who know its secrets with a the best of wealth: health.

In the Northern Hemisphere it will arrive during the winter or early spring, just when it's needed for its many health benefits. First of all, in a season devoid of greens* nettles provide iron which is much needed to keep our red blood cells count, and keep us strong and energetic. Tea brewed from stinging nettles (fresh or dried) also help in many other aspects, such as cleansing the urinary tract, and combating inflammation. And the best part? It gives your immune system a boost against hay fever, which is everyone's least favourite part of spring!

If stinging nettles scare you, here's the trick: once you blanch them in boiled water, they immediately lose their sting! Of course that does not solve the problem of picking them (use gardener's gloves, unless you are blessed with rough worker's hands or have developed and immunity to the stinging venom in the leaves - something that most regular pickers of nettles develop after repeated exposure). Secondly, if you get them in the farmer's market, you just need to be careful to not touch them until after you blanch them - just pour them into boiling water, like pasta, and wait till they change colour into a dark green and look limp.

If the health benefits alone don't appeal to you all that much, here are a couple of delicious tips recipes using nettles, for any meal of the day:

1) Soup Broth: If you haven't developed a taste for the steeped nettles, you can use the hot tisane in addition to the broth of any soup.
2) Smoothie: The chilled tisane can be used as a liquid in smoothies. Try it with pineapple and kiwi!
3) Fritatta: Chop up a handful of the blanched nettle leaves, and add to 3 whisked eggs. Chop up one scallion, a handful of cilantro leaves, and add a dash of dried chili pepper flakes and 1/4tsp each of turmeric and cumin, and salt to taste.
4) Lentil & Chickpea Soup: In a saucepan, sautee onions, once golden add garlic, sautee for 10 more seconds and add 1Tbs of each cumin and coriander seeds. Sautee for additional 10-20 seconds. Add 6 liters of water and 1 cup each green and red lentils, and 1-2 tsp salt. Cook until the lentils have soften, and add pre-cooked chickpeas (or canned ones). Add chopped up bunch of blanched nettles and chopped fresh cilantro leaves. Serve with lemon juice.

*Go to the local farmer's market to see how little there is of fresh green leaves in the long-nighted months: even kale is quite miserable come February and March).

Thawing


Thawing, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

This Saturday we went for a little hike in Lynn Canyon (which have become painfully touristic, fast becoming only another version of Capilano suspension bridge affair - it's only a question of when they will be charging us to cross the bridge!). Thankfully, the trees and the vegetation and melting snowtops take no notice of who is watching them and the show went on as far as their concern went...


New smells of spring grab my attention this year - especially balsam poplar buds. At least, that's what I think is what I'm smelling. Smells are never easy to describe, and especially not without reference to another smell they resemble (in this case: Sève Exquise). Or it could be the smell of cottonwood trees in bloom, which unlike the latter, was not discontinued. But I'll attempt to put these comparisons aside and try to describe it as it is.

The air of the forest surrounding Lynn Canyon was chilly from the moisture in the air and rushing river of freshly melted snow. But it smelled warm and balmy, graced by a fuzzy warm blanket of honeyed sweetness and wild flowers. It smelled so warm and sweet that it might as well have been the sole cause for the thawing snow capped mountains.

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