Sun Tea

Dearest Rachel –

When you left, you left us with a kitchen and pantry full of edibles that filled the storage spaces of both places to overflowing and then some. The various foodstuffs were piled so high that certain passages weren’t navigable without taking long, careful high steps (which you weren’t capable of, due to your stature). To be sure, there were other routes connecting the kitchen to the dining room and family room – and there was no point in upsetting the harmony of our home by making a big deal of it – so apart from the occasional moment when you expressed frustration over the situation, I didn’t say much about it. After all, I kind of agreed with you that having an abundance of variety in terms of food was better than a lack thereof.

The trouble with keeping so much stuff around, however – apart from the obvious issues with clutter – was that eventually, we would pick favorites. The foodstuffs that we liked would be consumed and turned over on a regular basis, while those that we weren’t as enthusiastic about would slowly fall to the bottom of the piles to either mold, go stale or otherwise suffer the ravages of time. Some things, counterintuitively, would suffer this fate not because of dislike but over concerns that we would never be able to find them again (or that they would be prohibitively expensive on this side of one or another ocean – I still have trouble with that these days). Either way, though, things would build up that we couldn’t seem to get rid of.

It took until the purge that Jan initiated for us to get to the point where Daniel and I were able to finally get stuff off of the kitchen and pantry floor (for the most part; we still have enough stuff that we can’t always get the pantry doors closed), thereby allowing us to finally remodel the place. You’ve gotten the letters from me about that project; I don’t need to go over all that with you now – although it’s weird to acknowledge how, now that we keep these passages clean and clear, it’s hard to remember the way things used to be. It almost feels like it’s always been the way it is now, although it most certainly was not.

And that I could have lived with it for the rest of my life.

***

So what does this have to do with the title I’ve given this letter, you’re probably asking at this point? Well, it so happens that, while Jan encouraged us to get rid of a lot of foodstuffs (the chest freezer in the utility room, in particular, was all but emptied – which is just as well, as there was a point at which it stopped working, as far as I could tell. We still have it down there, but only because we’re not sure how to get it out of the room, up the stairs and out the door, let alone to wherever it could be disposed of), she couldn’t get us to part with everything.

Most of these teas are meant as soothing beverages for when and if either of us comes down with a cold or the like; the most recent of these boxes, in fact, dates from when I was stuck in Basel with the Covid, and was in need of such a hot drink to clear my throat and sinuses (which, I might add, proved to a disappointment, as not only is the combination of peppermint and licorice a little strange, but none of the teas available in the stores came in the long thin tubes with a plastic hook on the end like the ones the hotel served. I really thought that was an innovation that was prevalent in Europe or something, but no).

Indeed, such has been the case with various brands and varieties; they’re okay in such extreme circumstance, which only come now and again, but by and large, they’re more trouble than they’re worth to use (and more to the point, to use up). If either of us want a warm remedy, we’re more likely to boil up an instant noodle (although, ironically, not the Thai stuff); that way, we get hot liquid and some vegetables and carbs to settle our stomach as well.

Meanwhile, the boxes of tea we already have keep going begging, even as the dog days of summer start to kick in, and a good serving of iced tea wouldn’t be amiss. So I’ve taken to making various pitchers of sun tea in order to use up one or another box of the leaves.

Some of the varieties work pretty well; I like the ones with a hint of fruit flavor to them almost as much as the basic orange pekoe. It can be a little hit-or-miss, though; one type bills itself as ‘orange spice,’ and while you can taste the orange, what really hits is the cinnamon. It pairs well with churros or chocolate, but not much else, and if it weren’t for the ice in the glass chilling and diluting it, it wouldn’t be particularly pleasant, but I can’t say it isn’t memorable in a way that most of my attempts haven’t been.

I have yet to completely polish off any one of these boxes you left us with, but I’d say I was making some progress. It’s probably better for me than a soda, to be sure. All the same, honey, I’d appreciate it if you were to keep an eye on me while I go through these, and wish me luck; I think I’m going to need it, considering they’re all past their sell-by date (just like me).