Hōjicha (ほうじ茶, roasted green tea)

Hōjicha begins as green tea, then gives up its green manners in the roasting pan. The leaves turn chestnut brown, the grassy edge softens, and the cup smells of toast, warm wood, and a little sweetness. This is daily tea, not ceremony. Good. Daily things reveal a kitchen's standards more honestly than the grand ones.

The first secret is water temperature. Hōjicha wants hotter water than sencha, but not a violent boil poured straight onto the leaves. Let the kettle come up, then wait a short breath until the water is just off the boil, about 90 to 95°C. That heat opens the roasted aroma quickly. Boiling fury only flattens it, and tea deserves better treatment than being bullied.

The second secret is dose and time. Use more leaf than your cautious hand first suggests, then steep briefly. The roasted leaves are bulky and light, so a tablespoon looks extravagant but drinks properly. Thirty to sixty seconds is enough for the first cup: amber-red, clear, round, with almost no bitterness. Brew it too long and you get woodiness instead of warmth.

We drink hōjicha when we want comfort without weight: after supper, with rice crackers, beside a small sweet, or poured mild for a child or an elder. It asks for a kyūsu, a Japanese side-handled teapot, though a small pot with a fine strainer will do honest work. Leave the cup partly empty. The color and aroma need room too.