Tangerine and Thyme Infused Water

Salmon running. Joseph on the boat. The freight plane bringing fish to Anchorage. Pete and I worked the night shift Friday. We talked between codes about the kids — his daughter's wedding planning, my sister's pregnancy. The talking was the keeping.

Lourdes is 74. She is in the kitchen. She is luminous. Joseph called from Kodiak Sunday. The fishing is good. The boats are running. He is fine.

I grilled fish Saturday. Salmon, marinated in calamansi and soy. The light at nine PM was still strong.

A reader wrote me a long email this week about her grandmother's adobo, which differed from mine in every measurement. The differences were the conversation. I wrote her back. The writing back is the work.

Angela came over Saturday with the kids. We cooked. We argued about pancit proportions — she uses more soy, I use more calamansi. We are both wrong, according to Lourdes.

I went to bed Sunday at nine. I slept for ten hours. The sleeping was the inheritance.

I made coffee at six AM. The coffee was the start. The start was always the same.

The Anchorage sky was the Anchorage sky. The mountains were the mountains. The inlet was the inlet. The geography was the geography.

The light was good Saturday morning. I sat on the porch with a cup of coffee and watched the inlet for forty minutes. The watching was the small therapy. The therapy was free.

The break room had cake Tuesday. Someone's birthday. We ate the cake. We did not ask whose birthday. The cake was the cake.

I sat on the balcony in the cold for ten minutes Sunday night with a cup of broth in my hands. The cold was the cold. The broth was the broth. The body held both.

I drove the Glenn Highway out to Eklutna on Saturday. The mountains were the mountains. The lake was the lake. The body needed the open road. The open road did its work.

I made tea late at night. The tea was the small comfort. The comfort was the marker.

Pete and I had a long phone conversation Tuesday. We talked about the family — his and mine. The talking was the keeping.

The neighbors invited us over for a small dinner Thursday. They are an Iñupiaq family — Aana and her grandson Joe. We ate caribou stew and rice. I brought lumpia. The kitchens of Anchorage have always been the small UN. The food is the proof.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced the Saturday gathering. I will be on lumpia duty. I am always on lumpia duty.

Auntie Norma called Sunday afternoon. She is now seventy-nine. She wanted a recipe. I gave it to her. She wanted to know how my week was. I told her, briefly. She told me about her week. The exchange took eighteen minutes. The eighteen minutes was the keeping.

A reader from New Jersey wrote in about her grandmother's adobo, which used pineapple. I had never heard of pineapple in adobo. I tried it. It was strange. It was also good. The strange and the good are not opposites.

Auntie Norma called Sunday to ask if I had a recipe for a particular merienda from Iloilo. I did not. I said I would ask Lourdes. I asked Lourdes. Lourdes had it. The chain.

I took inventory of the freezer Sunday. The freezer had: twelve quarts of broth, eight pounds of adobo in vacuum bags, six pounds of sinigang base, fourteen lumpia trays at fifty rolls each, three pounds of marinated beef for caldereta, and a small bag of pandan leaves Tita Nening had sent me. The inventory was the proof of preparation. The preparation was the proof of love.

The salmon I grilled Saturday—marinated in calamansi and soy under that nine PM light—left me thinking about citrus all week. Calamansi is not always easy to find in Anchorage, but tangerine gets you close: that same small brightness, that same clean finish. I started keeping a pitcher of this infused water in the refrigerator on work weeks because a night shift needs something other than coffee waiting for you when you get home, and this is the thing that does it without asking anything of you in return.

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 5 minutes (plus 2–4 hours chilling) | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 tangerines, sliced into thin rounds
4–5 fresh thyme sprigs
6 cups cold filtered water
1 cup ice cubes
1 tablespoon fresh tangerine juice (optional, for extra brightness)

Instructions

Prep the fruit. Wash the tangerines well and slice into thin rounds, about 1/4 inch thick. Remove any visible seeds.
Bruise the thyme. Lightly press each thyme sprig between your fingers to release the oils. You will smell it immediately—that is what you want.
Assemble the pitcher. Add the tangerine slices and thyme sprigs to a large pitcher or glass jar. Add ice, then pour cold water over everything. Add the optional splash of fresh tangerine juice if you have it.
Chill and steep. Refrigerate for at least 2 hours, or up to 4 hours for a stronger flavor. Do not leave it much longer than that or the thyme can turn bitter.
Serve. Pour over ice. Leave the fruit and herbs in the pitcher—they continue to flavor the water as you refill it throughout the day. Discard after 24 hours.

Nutrition (per serving)

Tangerine and Thyme Infused Water — The Calamansi Light at Nine PM