The tabletop was a single slab of wood, the cross-section of some ancient tree, the edges of which were still wrapped in gnarly bark. The surface had been sealed with something like epoxy to make it smooth and flat, but clear and thin to allow the pattern of the wood to be admired. The orange blanket that seemed to be built into the table was thick, but light, seemingly full of something like downy feathers or cotton fluff to help it insulate against the cold room. The table was low, designed with kneeling in mind, but lifting the blanket revealed that there was a lower section of the floor here allowing those sitting at the table to sit with their feet down in the modern style. Somewhere under the table, there was a source of warmth.
Once Egwene was seated, Fusako walked around and folded back the blanket on her side revealing a platter that she lifted and placed atop the table. On it, there was a white ceramic teapot with tea leaves painted in blue, another white ceramic vessel within a larger container made of unglazed clay, two plain white ceramic cups that were so wide and shallow that they were almost bowls, and a heavy towel hiding something beneath it. There were also two sets of chopsticks next to four small dishes, three of which contained shrivelled plums. The fourth dish contained a mound of white rice.
"Help yourself to some ume with rice," the older woman ordered as she gestured to the plum dishes. She first pointed to a dish containing dry plums, then to the one with plums in a thin liquid, then finally to the one with the plums in a syrupy liquid. "These are dried, these are salty, and these last ones are sweet."
"And don't get the wrong impression," she continued sternly. "I make umeshu with this fruit once a year, and these are simply the excess from last year that I had nothing better to do with than to preserve and serve to guests."
Fusako then picked up the heavy towel on the platter, revealing a simple cast iron stand that was conspicuously devoid of whatever was meant to sit on top of it. With this in hand, she shuffled over to the hearth and lifted the cast-iron kettle, using the towel to protect her hands from the hot metal. She shuffled back over, then poured some hot water into the unglazed clay container in which the ceramic vessel was hiding, careful not to get any of the hot water into the vessel itself. Once this was done, she placed the cast-iron kettle on top of its stand, and the towel to one side on the table. The kettle, still hot, radiated warmth onto their faces. Then she sat and tucked herself under the blanket, before pulling the ceramic vessel out of its container and pouring them each some warm sake. She lifted her cup.
"This is fresh sake. It is unpasteurized, unaged, and generally regarded as quite unrefined," she explained, doing her best to soothe her guest's aversion to formality. "Consider it the least formal of any sake you will drink. Kanpai."