Thoughts and commentary on all things tea.
I needed a vacation.
And I needed it as soon as possible.
That was probably why—when I planned it—I decided to leave for Las Vegas four days earlier than I really needed to. The original intent was to go down just for the days of World Tea Expo. Well, I decided to tack on a few additional vacation days to that. And Naomi “Joy’s Teaspoon” Rosen was to put me up (and put up with me) for those extra days.
What occurred could best (and simply) be described as “tea-fueled tourism”.
I have no words for how shitty this weekend was.
Okay, not true. I have 1,551 words. Geez, that’s a lot.
In 1939, the United Kingdom officially declared war against Nazi Germany. Punctually early, as was the British way. In order to keep public morale high, the Ministry of Information designed and distributed posters to strengthen British resolve in advance of wartime peril. One of which was this:
It was a very British slogan.
Back in 2009, I didn’t like oolongs. In general, anyway. There were some specific ones I liked, but most of them were off limits. I even explained this to Tony Tellin, lead blender extraordinaire at Smith Teamaker, when he was working the tea bar one day.
He said, “You’re probably not brewing them right.”
He escaped into the back and brought out a gaiwan (lidded Chinese teacup), and then he gave me a quick primer on how to do gongfu cha (literally, “brew tea with skill”). I had seen it done before, but it always intimidated me—multiple steeps, multiple pours, and the equipment required. He assured me that all I would need was a gaiwan, and to remember, “Short, successive steeps”.
Then he gave me his gaiwan.
It’s . . . seen a lot of use. By me.
Seven Days of Seven Cups, Day 1 – “Seasoning a Boob-Shaped Yixing Teapot”
In December of last year, I shattered my boob-shaped yixing teapot.
Yes, it was boob-shaped once. Not . . . accurately boob-shaped, but definitely figuratively. It had a whole story behind it and everything. (The story in question can be found HERE.) At the time, I was reaching for a gaiwan, and the li’l guy fell from the top shelf of my bookcase. The base completely ‘sploded, likely because I hadn’t seasoned the pot properly.
I don’t get out much these days. For tea or anything else.
Not sure if it’s by accident or by design, but in the last couple of months, I’ve preferred to take tea at home. Perhaps it’s the allure of the natural light hitting my personal tea tray, or the sheer ease of never having to leave my pajamas. Or, maybe still, it’s the given fact that most of my tea friends are in other parts of the country – nay, the world!
There is one drawback, though.
In case anyone missed it, there was no update last week. Reason being, I was at a wedding in Southern California. (No, not mine.) That left very little time to write anything, and on said trip, I only had one minor tea adventure.
It involved a batch of 2014 Second Flush Castleton Moonlight and a hotel Cuisinart coffee machine.
Hilarity and messes ensued.
The trip also meant that I was out of the proverbial tea world loop. No news reached my ears until the Sunday I got back. And . . . geez . . . what a news day it was.
A little over a year ago I made the acquaintance of Raj Vable of Young Mountain Tea.
We met up for lattes at Tea Bar PDX (where the above picture was taken), and he passed some samples on to me. Including an interesting Nilgiri black tea that I took a liking to. But that wasn’t the only reason for his visit. He was also starting up a rather ambitious Kickstarter campaign, and he wanted some help spreading the word.
I remember the first time I learned of the existence of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. It was 2009, and I was perusing my local Powell’s. Back then, genre fiction was mostly dominated by steampunk and supernatural teen fair. This mash-up of period piece and horror tropes came at just the right time in literary history.
But I’ll confess I rolled my eyes at first.
Russians love tea. Like . . . really love tea. Even the British and Irish look at the Russian love affair with tea and say, “Would you kindly tone it down?”
I learned of this secondhand when I was doing research a couple of years ago on tea grown in Russia. Not exactly sure how it happened, but Russians took a rather strong liking to low-altitude Ceylon. Brewed as a concentrate . . . from a giant brass water heater . . . that was stoked with a boot. Yes, a Samovar.
But in recent years, there’s been a shift in the Russian tea palate. One I learned of from – of all places – Instagram.
Photo used with permission from Electrogorilla
Young Russians love dark tea (or “heicha”). Like . . . really love dark tea. Puerh, to be precise.
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