Wakai
Dokokai Japanese Tea Ceremony
1633
SW Skyline Blvd., 236-4948 (ask for Louise Bohlman).
Last Tuesday
of each month, starting at 7 pm.
$10
per person.
Reservations
required. Make them early; spaces fill up fast.
An ancient Japanese proverb says, "The flavor of Zen and the
flavor of tea is the same." This idea has never been more
exemplified than when I recently attended a Japanese tea ceremony
at Wakai Dokokai, a quirky Southwest Portland tea room where
drinking tea is elevated to a level of significance to which
few items in American gastronomy are ever raised. Here, drinking
tea isn't just a pastime, it's an art.
The idea behind the ceremony seems fairly simple: Through
tea we can purify the senses, find harmony in our surroundings,
respect what is involved in the process and discover tranquility.
But beyond these four principles exists an elaborate ritual
involving intricate artwork, careful choreography and practiced
skill. The origins of the ceremony date back centuries to
when Buddhist monks began using tea to help them meditate.
Then as tea became more spiritually linked to the principles
of Zen Buddhism, a ritualistic homage to tea was born, as
was an entire tea philosophy, or teaism. Today the ceremony
has found its way out of Japan and into American establishments
such as Portland's Wakai Dokokai.
Wakai Dokokai is not as much a tea room as it is a school
where people can study the "way of tea." Classes on Japanese
tea culture--all related to the tea ceremony itself--are
ongoing, but once a month, instructors open their doors
to the public for a full-fledged tea ceremony. Traditional
Japanese tea ceremonies can last half a day, but Wakai offers
a more abbreviated version to visitors. When I entered Wakai's
waiting room, about 10 other people were sitting and chatting,
and I was immediately told this night was special because
it was a tribute to Rikyu, considered by some to be the
greatest of all tea masters. This meant the tea room would
be more decorated than usual, mostly with extra flower arrangements.
Our instructor, Jan Waldmann, has been studying at the
school since 1975, and when she's not working at Powell's
she's teaching classes at Wakai and absorbing herself in
all things tea. She gave us a brief primer on Japanese tea
etiquette and some history of the ceremony and the tea school.
The school was opened in 1963 by Soju Moriyasu, who had
studied extensively at the renowned Urasenke tea school
in Kyoto, Japan, and was one of the few women in the male-dominated
Japanese tea world to become a tea master. Moriyasu hoped
to open up Japanese tea philosophy to Americans by starting
a tea school, and later a tea room, that would offer insight
into an aspect of Japanese culture few Westerners see.
Jan welcomed us all again, and just as we were getting
comfy and craving tea, everyone started filing out of the
room. We were led to the foyer, where pairs of flip-flops
awaited us. After walking through a Japanese garden, we
arrived at a small arbor outside of the tea room where we
sat for a moment and examined our well-manicured surroundings.
Then one by one, we walked over to a rocky fountain of water,
washed our hands and mouths (purifying the senses) and entered
the tea room, leaving our sandals and the outside world
behind.
The door to the tea room is so small you have to duck down
to enter, but the idea is that everyone begins the ceremony
at the same level. The room was lined with grass tatami
mats, and candles and handmade lights offered a warm, subdued
ambience. The décor was spartan but elegant. A handpainted
scroll with a picture of Rikyu and the four virtues of tea
was the centerpiece, and simple flower arrangements, such
as a single camellia or a budding daffodil, rested in delicate
handmade vases.
Jan sat in front of everyone with an earthenware teapot
and a set of bowls and utensils. Before she began making
the tea, she passed around sweets made from bean curd and
wrapped in powdered rice shells. They had a delicate sweetness
and a filling density, and the one I ate contained mugwort,
an aromatic herb known for its strengthening and purifying
properties.
After everyone had eaten a sweet, Jan began preparing the
tea, which in a Japanese tea ceremony is always matcha,
a powdered green tea ideal for brewing individual servings.
Matcha is different from other green teas in that it is
a powder rather than a whole leaf. It's not among the best
green teas, but it does offer a subtle sweetness, a slightly
nutty flavor and a distinctive texture.
With skilled rhythm, Jan whisked the tea with hot water
to create a thick, frothy brew, and we were each given a
serving in a bowl, which we took with a bow. After we finished
our tea, we passed the bowls around for each guest to inspect.
All the bowls were handmade and each had a unique history.
The bowl I drank from was about 50 years old and had a luminous
brown and gold glaze that looked like tiger's-eye. Jan invited
us to take a closer look at the scroll and the flower arrangements,
and then we left the room, one by one.
As I walked away from the teahouse I felt peacefully relaxed
in a post-yoga kind of way, and I wished the actual ceremony
had lasted a bit longer. I left wanting to know more about
the origins of the ritual, but I suppose that's where the
tea school enters.
The ceremony is really what you make of it--how you connect
with the other guests, what you think of the tea and how
seriously you take the ritual. It's certainly not for everyone,
and it may be a daunting introduction to tea for newcomers
(or too abridged for traditionalists), but it's a unique
experience. And if you allow yourself to leave behind your
grocery list, deadlines and bills, it can be not only an
escape from day-to-day responsibilities, but an intriguing
glimpse into a remarkable culture.
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Willamette Week | originally
published May 10,
2000
|
