I had a party last night. For the Chinese New Year.

Happy Horse!

It was the first time I’d had a party in this apartment — that is, more than five people came for a contrived affair with liquor and tea and potluck-style eating. These people would be friends, all of them armed with clever words hastened by pu-er. It was a good time, even though much of the evening I was too busy, first making martinis then serving pu-er, to notice how things were going.

Pam donated the martini fixings and gave me a crash course in how to make them. Maybe I’m practiced now, I don’t know. We used every glass she sent.

I bought the pu-er from my source at Kuan-yin. I like that guy. At first what seemed like pretentiousness soured the topic of tea, but yesterday I enjoyed his esoteric rambling, thought it endearingly humorous. It means I’m missing studying this art. I want it back. Anyway, he said he had "drinkable" pu-er, 18-year-old stuff that was mostly green just starting to turn red. Thirty-two bucks a cake. I bought two ounces for $6. He mentioned his Canadian connection and how he thinks he can get 75-year-old cakes for about $300 Canadian, which is about $150 on this side of the border. I’d love to be included in the deal, but I don’t know where the money will come from.

Kate brought Communist cupcakes — devil’s food frosted red and yellow in hammer and sickle designs — to support the obliquely socialist theme of a Chinese New Year. They were excellent and reminded me of something I read earlier in the day about the communist movement in Japan in the late 1940’s. The party donned the motto "lovable Communist Party" to underscore its strategy for a peaceful revolution from below. I took one look at those cupcakes and called the Party lovable. Again and again, I seem to recall.

We had rice cake too: mochi, and dokk baked and dipped in honey. Petit Ecoliers, chocolate truffles and coffee ice cream. Wayne brought roasted vegetables from Macrina, which didn’t get served. I’ll eat them for lunch today.

Mandy arrived in theme, with her Bruce Lee t-shirt and a bag of Oriental Rice Crackers.

Some tea enthusiasts in Portland introduced me to the idea of drinking sake concurrently with pu-er. These are the folks running the tea house at the Chinese garden there. They said after-hours they pull out the gong-fu and toss back the tea alternately with Momokawa Diamond or Pearl sake. Andrew tried this with me back in June or July (June, I see by the e-mail trail). I didn’t like it as well then, but it was probably because we bought the Pearl. Last night I bought the Diamond and it is the better one — smooth, spirited water you could drink it like.

So I passed the night drinking as much pu-er as I could squeeze from the Little-Pot-That-Could and drinking sake when my tea cup was empty. I alone probably drank half the bottle and maybe ten cups of the earthy infusion.

The effect is astounding. A weird, wired kind of drunkeness. I heard myself talking and revealing more than I would typically, but from a slight distance, as if I were observing myself from the corner of the room. (The caffeine kept me up late and woke me early; the sake did no damage.)

Andrew sat to my left and because of his privilege and my familiarity with his habits, I took liberty filling his tea and sake cups as soon as I noticed they were empty. All others’ boundaries were respected, for the most part.

Throughout the night, the long wooden table that is the centerpiece of the living room fortified with cups, glasses and bowls and a moat of conversation. This morning the table is packed with empty dishes and stray food. I love a repleted table. And maybe it’s the caffeine coursing yet, but I already feel like having people over again.