The afternoon starts with a tour of the Old Bailey, including the courtrooms, the judges' dining room, and the cells below. If you've booked the afternoon tea, you're taken back up to the richly decorated Great Hall for an afternoon tea surrounded by all the pomp and grandeur that the hall can deliver.
Last month, I found myself at a friend's dinner table, surrounded by strangers. What started as polite small talk about the weather quickly evolved into a fascinating discussion about urban development, the role of art in society, and how different countries approach healthcare. Three hours flew by. Walking home that night, I realized something. The people who seemed most at ease weren't necessarily the ones with the most degrees or the fanciest job titles.
The Bud­dhis­ti­cal­ly inflect­ed " ichi-go ichi‑e" is just one in the vast library of yoji­juku­go, high­ly con­densed apho­ris­tic expres­sions writ­ten with just four char­ac­ters. (Oth­er coun­tries with Chi­nese-influ­enced lan­guages have their ver­sions, includ­ing sajaseon­geo in Korea and chéngyǔ in Chi­na itself.) It descends, as the sto­ry goes, from a slight­ly longer say­ing favored by the six­teenth-cen­tu­ry tea mas­ter Sen no Rikyū, " ichi-go ni ichi-do " (一期に一度).
Can architecture be built from food? Between the fire that warms, the smells that spread, and the bodies that gather around the table, the apparent banality of cooking and eating reveals itself as a choreographed dance of spatial appropriation and belonging. These gestures organize routines, produce bonds, and transform the built environment into lived place. The kitchen- domestic, communal, or urban -thus ceases to be merely a functional space and affirms itself as a territory of encounter.
If you were a frequent coffee shop-goer and Instagram scroller in the mid-2010s, chances are you remember when a certain grassy green beverage started to pop up on café menus, grid posts, and Tumblr feeds. (Of course, we're talking about matcha.) Now, some ten years later, another type of Japanese green tea has made the jump over to the U.S. market: hojicha.
Coffee brimming with lemon myrtle cream. Matcha banked with strawberry-lychee foam. Cold brew with choc-orange froth thick enough to stuff a pillow. Every caffeinated drink I've ordered in Sydney recently has the appearance of a generously frosted cake. It's a trend you'll see or sip across Australia, from Toasted Carine's iced latte with maple cold foam in Perth to Le Bajo's chilled oolong tea with raspberry cream in Melbourne.
Drinking tea, particularly green tea, is linked to better heart health, improved metabolism, and lower risks of chronic diseases like diabetes and cancer. It may also help protect the brain and preserve muscle strength as people age. However, processed teas-such as bottled and bubble varieties-often contain sugars and additives that may cancel out these benefits. Moderation and choosing freshly brewed tea appear key.
"Fresh spices and proper simmering time make all the difference," instructs Chan. As tempting as it might be to sprinkle powdered spices into a pot, Chan directs chai lovers to first simmer your chosen whole spices with black tea. Use all or some of an assortment of cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, ginger, and peppercorns and warm them up in a pan with the tea, then steamed milk and sweetener can then enter the picture.
When Japanese sesame oil brand Kadoya Seiyu demonstrated that combining sesame oil and coffee is an option, foodies took notice. The unexpected addition can lend a creamy, smooth texture to a regularly prepared cup of Joe, and the smell of this combination will greet you before the first sip reaches your lips. As added incentive to experiment with this unique duo, sesame oil boasts a line-up of promising health benefits.