mixing green and black tea

I'm not a tea blender, so for me that entire art is a kind of alchemy. The people who do it well have my respect and I often wonder if it's something I'll eventually get into.

For the longest time, I've been particularly fascinated with the blending of green and black tea. Perhaps because I brew the two sorts of tea at different temperatures and perhaps just because they have such distinct tastes, but the vegetal sometimes grassy taste of a green seems to be in conflict with the malty character of a good Assam. Or the smoky taste of a Yunnan.

That being said, when I'm in a tea shop and I see a blend of green and black tea, I almost always get it. With varying results to be fair. Often the green tea might as well not even be in the blend. The black tea overpowers whatever character the green had. Watered down black tea isn't my idea of a good time, so I'm often less than pleased at my recent purchase.

Why is it so difficult to blend green and black tea?

If it is so daunting, why do people continue to do it?

My favourite green/black tea blends?

Buen Dia from La Tetería and Michel Strogoff from Le Palais des Thés. How about you?

The Price of Tea in India

Last week, I got a bit hot and bothered about the price of tea in why does tea cost so much? Well, although there's been some interesting discussion on Tea Trade and twitter even about the topic (I actually agree with yaya that sometimes tea isn't too expensive - that the amount of tea you get from just a bit of leaf is rather impressive). However, it did bring a bit of joking at my expense from an Indian twitter friend. 

Here's what she said exactly:

Oh, @lahikmajoe, I'll just rub in the fact that the best tea in the world costs me 0 Rs/$ :)
— Radhika (@levis517) May 2, 2012

Well, although I don't understand '0 Rs/$' (that sounds like free tea to me...I'm not ready for free tea), I think she was exaggerating a bit. I thanked her for her dastardly taunting. She then offered to write a bit of a rant along the same line as my blogpost. Well, you know I love a good guest blogpost, so I present to you Radhika (@levis517) and her unabashed ridicule of us - those of us paying far too much for our tea. Even if you don't agree with all of what she says, I think you'll appreciate her enthusiasm. Oh, and her taunting. That's priceless, as it were.

Without further ado, here's Radhika:

'It was only a couple of days ago that Lahikmajoe posted something on his teablog that I absolutely HAD to reply to. Actually, the post was itself inspired by a comment made by someone else on the outrageous price of tea in their part of the world. Of my 25 years on the planet, 21 have been spent in India, and 4 in Australia – a subset of ‘that part of the world’. Based on my experience, I can say this: yes, you are being duped.

As a good little Indian girl, I am a tea drinker. I made friends with some great people on twitter that were initially based around this drink. However, owing to the fact that I am the only one from a major tea-producing nation I find that, oddly enough, a lot of the time I can’t relate to the others’ tea escapades. There are only two occasions where I must respond.

The first is my endless quest to teach the Anglophone world the difference between chai and tea which is simply this: there is none. I won’t dwell on the topic much because I harp on about it enough both on and offline, and also it’ll detract from the point on hand.

The other thing I can’t resist commenting on is the price of tea abroad.  – i.e. where most of you are. In the case of Lahikmajoe’s post, the response was smug and self-satisfied. But that is because I’m back in the land of accessible tea. Were I still in Australia, the response would probably have been a tearful, heart wrenching ‘It’s not FAIR!’

Now I understand there are a number of economic forces that interact to determine the price of a commodity within a given market, but I’m not here to gripe about economics. Why should I? It has no bearing on me if I’m not in said market. And in any case, I don’t feel I have enough expertise in the area to comment on it with any authority. No, the reason I get so upset about the disparity in the price of tea in India and abroad is not based on how much I have to spend to drink it (though I did switch to coffee for a year and a half because I find the tea in Australia intolerable as well as expensive). The reason it is an issue at all, in fact, is a matter of principle. (regular teablogger's note: changing to coffee is most definitely not recommended)

Tea is not meant to be expensive.

Lahikmajoe points out quite rightly in his post that tea is marketed in foreign lands as a luxury product. Can I just say I cannot think of a bigger insult to the drink than to call it a luxury product.

Australia was/is an absolute disgrace to the little leaf. The place is full of ‘tea houses’ and ‘teashops’ where you spend 4-5 dollars (200 – 250 rupees) on tepid, flavoured water with absolutely no personality or charm or purpose. They have this appalling institution called T2 which has made a business out of denigrating the innocent little tea leaf by engaging in a vile and I daresay mostly fictitious form of tea snobbery that tramples all over what I regard as the true purpose of tea. Tea brings people together – in a country of so many different languages, faiths and  facial features, it unifies an entire population. In Australia, and I imagine most of the developed world, it is marketed to serve the opposite purpose. You show off your tea, your wide and varied knowledge, the many different kinds you can identify, what flush, which leaves, how long should they be steeped and, most importantly, how much each is worth – the same way you do with wine and gadgets. But maybe that’s why I can’t take part in any other tea-discussions on Twitter. 

You see, In my part of the world, tea is comfort, warmth, and hospitality. In its classic, romantic avatar, it’s a boy and a girl at a railway station on a monsoon evening, with a glass of chai, sharing a packet of Parle-G biscuits. That’s from an ad for Parle-G based on millions of real life scenarios that take place across the country. I had my own on a train back from Lucknow when I was 17 and the man next to me asked if I’d like a cup of tea from the chaiwalla doing the rounds of the carriages. Please, don’t get any unsavoury ideas. Like I said, it is a literal and figurative token of warmth. The gent himself was Muslim and they often tend to be hospitable. We spoke a little over our chai and chips. He managed to soothe my edgy teenage nerves, this being my first solo train trip and all. I think he got off at Nizammudin, while I debarked at Delhi. Natch, we never saw each other again. 

Our tailor offers us a cup of chai whenever we visit to pick up our clothes. It’s his way of stalling us while his minions start and finish the job they were meant to have done the week before. The tea is from one of the shopowners in the market who’s known us for the past two decades. It’s sweet, milky and is sharpened with ginger. Absolutely beautiful. We don’t even mind the tailor’s slacking off. We wouldn’t go to anyone else.

I have a job now and I am delighted everyday by the cup of chai that apparates on my desk moments after I arrive. Without our chaiwalla, the office would fall apart. It’s why his name is the second one on the website’s staff page – just under the head honcho’s. I wouldn’t be exaggerating if I said it’s what makes me get up in the morning. The stuff is so potent, the aroma comes wafting through the rooms from the kitchen.

One of my best friends and I have taken it upon ourselves to spend more time together now that we know how much we miss each other when I’m away. We go to a handicrafts market near her house – it includes food stalls representing each state in the nation. We sit down over a cup of kawha or kulhar chai and talk about a list of topics that somehow hasn’t run dry after 17 years.

We have a shawlwalla who visits us in winter – for obvious reasons, selling shawls. I happened to mention how much I wanted to try to make kahwa yet how I was constantly thwarted by the absence of the right kind of tea. A week later, he dropped by bearing a bag of the stuff as a gift. 

My favourite memories of my undergrad involved me and my three closest friends sitting around 4 cups of tea (maybe one or two of coffee) on the college lawns on a sunny but nippy winter day, working on assignments due or just tossing ideas about our favourite theorists back and forth. The tea was the oversweet teabag variety, and I still get served it now and then. By tea snob standards it’s not worth the calories you burn drinking it, but for me the taste is a constant throwback to three of the best years I ever had.

I make tea as well. Some years ago, my father made a work visit to the North East. It must have been Assam because he returned bearing a bag of tea that weighed a kilo. I was admiring it in his house, he asked if I wanted it and I thought that was a great way to nick it. It’s the best tea I have ever had. It’s not high brow, not the top leaves, not full leaf, either, but it’s strong and sweet and powerful enough to hold its own against any spices I might add without losing any of its flavour. It’s my favourite tea to make – a silent kitchen, a pot, some water on the boil – add your ingredients and inhale. It’s one of the most therapeutic activities I can recommend.

There’s no room for snobbery in a tea culture. There’s also no room for economics. We don’t discuss price or quality of tea. We might spare a sentence to how we like our chai if we do. But, like I said, tea is an expression of fondness. A kind of catalyst that brings people together. Most of the tea you drink in India will cost you little or nothing. You’ll pay something between 3 and 10 rupees for a paper cup of nectar. Mostly, it’ll come to you. It’s a part of life, you know? It’s not something you think about. It’s just always there. It’s like a friend and friends aren’t luxuries.'

greetings to a new Tea Buddy

While going through my Spam folder, I found a recent comment about a post I wrote last autumn (you pay more for appearance) about golden-tipped leaves and their curious pricing. Which tells me two things: check my spam folder carefully and don't forget that there are still so many interesting tea people out there that I haven't met yet. I'm going to introduce you to one right now.

Here was the comment I found that almost was lost in the rubbish bin of history:

I am enjoying your blog! Came across this post on Assam Teas. My father was a tea planter and I grew up in a remote tea plantation in Assam. The gold tips in good quality Assam are the buds which turn golden after oxidation. Tippy teas are expensive teas. TGFOP “Tippy Golden Flowery Orange Pekoe" is the highest grade of Assam and fetches top prices in Arab countries where it is drunk pure (without milk). TGFOP contains roughly one fourth tips. Tea afficianados joke TGFOP stands for “Too Good For Ordinary People”!! Tippy teas are also more flavorful and have higher caffeine content. Very fine tippy teas are entirely hand processed and blankets are used to trap the tips. I have lots about Assam tea on my blog.

Isn't that a great comment? I really enjoy meeting new tea people, and want you to know about her too, so here's:

Tea Buddy: Shona Patel's blog about Tea, Writing and Life

My kind of people. Without a doubt.

I particularly liked her Photo Gallery of Tea Garden Bungalows.

isn't that a great smile? 

So, greetings Shona. I'm sure we'll be talking about Assam and other tea in the future. 

you pay more for appearance

I'm imagining someone shopping for tea in an excellent tea shop.  The customer is relatively new to tea, and has only recently gotten up the nerve to actually ask to smell the tea leaves before he decides which tea he'll take home.


Although he has a selection of quite a few different sorts of tea, he's been on a bit of an Assam kick lately.  He even forces himself to drink the other tea in his tea cabinet, but he's a bit concerned that he'd actually reach for the Assam every single time (day and night) if he thought it would be ok.  He's not at all sure it's ok.  


This customer's still quite uncertain when it comes to all of this tea and its paraphernalia. He loves so much about what he's learned about loose-leaf tea, but he has to force himself not to bolt out of the tea shop when there are too many other customers present or even worse when the tea seller asks him even the simplest questions.  


So he goes into the shop at times when he hopes no-one else is there.  Today's just such a day, and the nice thing is that the tea seller is the only other person in the shop.  He asks for 100g of his latest favourite Assam, and asks about several others.  The guy behind the counter happily opens each canister for the tea to be smelled.  And then the question.  This question comes eventually.  Every tea seller knows it'll appear sooner or later.


'Why's this tea more expensive than the others?'


Well, the easiest answer is that this tea demanded more at the tea auction.


Really?  Is that it?  That's the only reason?

Actually, no.  There're so many things that go into the pricing of tea, and it's quite byzantine all the rules and machinations that are involved.  When it comes to this Assam, people seem willing to pay more if there are little golden tips on the leaves.


Don't the little golden tips on the leaves make the tea taste better?


Not necessarily.  Interestingly, how they process the tea to create the golden colour might not even be the best way to process tea for the best taste.


Hm, that's a bit odd.  This tea that's entirely black might actually taste better than the more expensive one that's black with little golden-tipped leaves.  Is that right?


It might.  It's not as if all golden tea tastes bad.  And some tea with golden-tipped leaves can be really quite exquisite.


Well for the time being, I intend to buy my tea based upon how it smells and tastes not how it looks.


sidenote


This blogpost began when I considered a conversation I overheard on twitter between Geoff Norman (@lazy_literatus) & Michael J Coffey (@michaeljcoffey) about this very topic of whether the golden colour in the leaves actually made the tea taste better.  Here's exactly what Michael said over on twitter:


'Short answer: "best" flavor may require wide range of processing req's, gold color req very specific processes....Therefore, if you process for gold color, you limit what you can do with flavor...BUT people pay $$$ for color.'


Wanted to bring up the topic partially because I'm fascinated with the way tea is priced and also because I like explanations that are quirky and counter intuitive.  This one has plenty of both of these things.

my shingle's been hung

Read an article in a spa magazine recently that went through the different types of tea and explained the differences between them.  For the 4 types of tea mentioned (I know there are more...talk to the spa magazine people, will you?), there's a column in which is answered:

Good for you because

Reach for it

It tastes


I could easily go through and talk about the very practical information that was imparted by the article, but  I've decided not to do that.  There are plenty of places you could go for exactly this sort of thing.  Most days I'd be more than eager to delve deep into it.  But not today.

Today, I've resolved to do two different things.  One is to hang out my shingle and offer a therapeutic service regarding tea.  What tea fits your particular situation/emergency?  This is a shameless attempt to deal with the second thing.

In the past, I've had tons of discussion here on my blog.  I continue to get more over on my mirrored blog (lahikmajoedrinkstea) at Tea Trade (their main site), but I really like a bit of lively back and forth at both places.  So here's my shameless attempt to get some of you who like to come here and gawk to actually speak up.

Everyone loves an advice column.  Ok, not everyone.  Most people like advice columns.  As a result, I'm offering to answer non tea-related catastrophe with very tea-related solutions.  Either in the comments themselves or in an additional blogpost, I'll hopelessly and even recklessly make your problems a thing of the distant past.

And to kick it all off I've decided to answer a question I've received from Larry in Dayton, Ohio.  Let's hear it Larry.

Larry in Dayton:

Yeah, uh...ok.  See, I really hate my brother-in-law.  I hate him so much I want to kill him.  So my question is What sort of tea is best for me to deal with that?


My answer:


Oh gosh.  Ok Larry in Dayton.  Not a very light-hearted question to kick this off, is it?  But I promised I'd do my best.

I'm going to assume you don't want a tea to help you get up the nerve to actually off the guy, right?  I can't do that.  That'd be unconscionable.  (*whispers* Assam by the way...a dark, strong, malty Assam)

No, I'll just take it for granted you want a tea that'll help you calm down and not go through with these murderous thoughts.  So my gut feeling is that you need a good strong Oolong.  And not one of those lightly-oxidised sorts of Oolong.  I'd go with a nice flavourful Choice Formosa Oolong.  This tea won't let you down.

It's Good for you because...you won't be committing murder.  You can enjoy your freedom and actually choose when and where you go and what you can do.

Reach for it...Brew some up any time of the day, but especially right before you're forced to have any contact with this brother-in-law of yours.  I'm sure it'll do the trick.

It tastes...nothing like a black tea, but packs a strong full punch.  It's got something nutty and earthy about it.  There's even a hint of caramel.

You're probably feeling an undeniable sense of peace now that you've followed my simple instructions Larry in Dayton.  Enjoy this photo from a balcony looking out over the Mediterranean.

After that expert advice above, I'm sure the questions will now come flooding in.  My proverbial shingle has been hung and I'm awaiting your queries.

what tea do I start with?

(photo: a new morning-a new tea drinker)

Someone's been interacting with me on twitter or even in the real world. They've politely tolerated my blathering on about tea. How no matter what the topic of conversation is that it somehow veers back to tea drinking.

Finally, the question comes up, 'Ok, enough already. Go ahead and tell me. What tea should I start with?''

What an exciting prospect, but then I freeze up. Hm? What next?

Well, the first thing I ask is, 'How do you take your coffee?' Cream or milk? Sugar or not? What on earth does that tell me? Well, if you drink black coffee, then a delicate subtle tea just won't do. Not at all.

The next question, 'Do you like spicy foods?' does the same thing.

I used to think that a decent Earl Grey was a nice gateway tea. That one might like the Bergamot oil early on and over time want to taste more of the tea and less of the flavouring. I'm not sure if I'd always go that direction anymore. If someone's already enjoying Earl Grey then I won't discourage it, but I'm not so thrilled about pushing someone in that direction. Not when there's so much delicious tea out there.

If someone tends to eat spicier food, I think I'd recommend a malty Assam. If not, a subtle Ceylon. Yes, ok. But which one?

Go to your local tea seller and ask what sorts of Assam they have. Or what about their selection of Ceylon?

Ask to smell the tea leaves. Any decent tea seller will be thrilled that you're interested. Don't be shy asking how much a tea costs and definitely don't assume that a higher price means better tea. It simply doesn't.

I know this answer is very simple. Maybe too simple. But if you're new to tea (or good tea), you'll likely appreciate the simplest of answers. Please let me know how it goes.

What about you other tea obsessives? How do you answer the question posed above? Someone shows even a hint of curiosity about trying decent tea. Which direction do you send them?

tea choices for marauding teenagers or Zombie Apocalypse

So I was watching the opening scene of the 1966 British film Blow-Up this evening, and there were packs of wild (even insane) teenagers romping through the streets of London. I think it was supposed to signify the Swinging Sixties, but it served a different purpose for me.

It got me thinking.

About the Zombie Apocalypse, of course.

Whether it's marauding British teenagers in clothing styles that really can't be described as flattering or zombies in full-scale apocalypse mode, there's an obvious question that I haven't seen discussed by the more reputable teablogs. Well not yet at least.

What tea might you serve to these eerily similar groups of people? The object of serving them tea wouldn't be in any way to dissuade them from their brain eating goals. Simply put, a nice tea would at least slow them down. And potentially make the whole experience just a bit more civilised. If only a bit.

But which tea for this most delicate of situations? Be honest. It's a more difficult question than you first thought, isn't it?

My first choice was a decent first grade Keemun. Seems like this is the sort of tea many blends include to temper the boldness of a strong Assam. If it's good in that capacity, then why not here? But something about that choice just seems too easy. The zombies may or may not go for the Keemun, but I have serious doubts that the teenagers would have anything to do with such a tea. It's just a hunch.

What about a tea from Kenya? My friend Neil introduced me to Everyday Kenya from leaf tea. I wrote about it in I'll show you mine if you show me yours. That's interesting enough to please the teenagers and strong enough that the zombies might even be able to taste it. But still...I don't know. It's simply not the perfect choice.

Oh wait. I have it. Why'd it take me so long to come up with this one?

Another tea sometimes used in blends to tame an errant Assam is a good Nilgiri. The one I'm thinking of has all the attributes of the above-mentioned teas, but it's got an extra dose of zombie-halting flavour. It's one I found at Le Palais des Thés and, as you can see, I can recommend it for the most unlikely of occasions.

The name of this delicious Nilgiri is Thiashola 'Carrington', which really cannot be recommended more highly. As much as the teenagers will enjoy the actual taste of the tea, they'll get as much fun out of the name 'Thiashola' as I did when I first read it. My thoughts ran wild at the thought of a girl named Thia and her anatomy.

If nothing else, this tea's name can be employed in their sophomoric poems to rhyme with Pensacola or Indianola.

Only the most crucial of questions are answered on this teablog. I feel as if I'm providing an important service.

the 'best tea'?

Was asked by a friend today what the 'best tea' was. What a question, eh? But I love a good debate. And blog comments. In case I've been unclear in the past, I really really like blog comments. So here's my not-so-humble answer. I wonder how the rest of you might respond.

Many teabloggers focus on green and/or Oolong tea, but as much as I like them, I've focused more on black tea. Most tea sellers in Germany make their own unique Ostfriesen Blend that is often a mix of strong, malty Assam and a Chinese Keemun (and maybe an Indian Nilgiri). If I had to choose my favourite non-single estate tea, it'd be one of those specialty blends.

But if it's brands we're talking about, the tastiest and most consistent tea I've found is 'Yorkshire Gold' made by Taylors of Harrogate. But that's only if we're talking about black tea blends.

I'd say the best non-green/Oolong tea, in my opinion, is still a single estate Darjeeling (to be truly accurate, most 'black' Darjeeling is really only 90% oxidised, so it's actually Oolong). I like stronger tea, so I enjoy second as well as first flush Darjeeling.

But the best brand? If you're buying from a seller that can tell you on which estate a Darjeeling was grown, then the likelihood is that it'll be better than something labeled simply as 'Darjeeling'. The estimation is that 40,000 tonnes of Darjeeling are sold worldwide, while only 10,000 tonnes are grown. Logically, one isn't always entirely sure that purchased Darjeeling was actually grown there.

Again, I'm very grateful for the question. Clearly the answer you'll get is entirely objective. I like thinking about how to make loose-leaf tea drinking more attractive. If I were a tea snob, it'd be the worst way of going about the whole thing.

What about you other tea obsessives? When someone asks you what the 'best tea' is, what might you say? I know on the face of it, it's an impossible question. But please jump in and claim your stake on this issue.

Did I mention that blog comments are encouraged?

a selection of malty and not so malty Assam

Now that I have my sense of taste back, I've been drinking quite a lot of Assam. I go through phases where I really focus in on one tea that I like at the moment, but several months ago I ordered multiple sorts of Assam from Claus Kröger in Hamburg.

Here's a link to the selection he has on offer: Schwarzer Tee Assam

So rather than sit down and do a traditional tea note on each of these that I like, which I still may do at a later date, I've been brewing two or even three of these teas side by side and then drinking them without a lot of fuss throughout the morning. I love the smell of the Assam Sephinjuri tea before it's brewed. That smell doesn't necessarily come out in the taste of the tea, but it's still a delicious tea.

Since I'm often brewing the tea on my own (without fellow tea drinkers), it's not so easy for me to do some sort of blind taste test of the different teas. In addition, I'm getting to know the tastes well enough that I very likely could tell you which is which even if someone were to hand me a cup without telling me what it was.

But I've been wondering about the cost and whether the more expensive tea is really noticeably better. Going simply by price, the above-mentioned Sephinjuri must be a simple, unassuming tea. Like I say, I find it delicious. Why is it so much more economical? I'm not complaining. When I think back on some of the tea shops I visited in the US and their prices for an ounce of simple black tea, these prices are truly a steal.

Is the Assam Mangalam really that much better? The tips of the leaves are definitely a beautiful golden brown. The smell of both the leaves and the brewed tea are both extraordinary. No doubt about that.

But is my opinion somehow swayed by how much more expensive this second tea is? I guess that's human nature, isn't it? If a tea costs more, it must be of greater value. Right?

I'm probably opening up a topic that we as the end users can hardly begin to comprehend. But I am curious about it. Not only why tea costs what it does, but what factors make different tea from the same region so varied in price? As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Am sure it's not the last time I'll be pondering this.

Rapture tea

Last year, I live blogged what sort of tea I would serve each of the players in the Champion's League Final. You can see it here: Tea voodoo.

So, I joked about it earlier in the week, but this blog is anything if not topical. What sort of tea should we serve for the Rapture? Now, I'd normally avoid any sort of religious topic on a tea blog. I'd like to do anything to avoid any sort of controversy, and religion will certainly send us down that road more quickly than almost anything else.

But having said all that, what sort of tea would be perfect for just this event. I did only the briefest of research on what specifically the Rapture actually meant. I'm sure I could find plenty more about this, but for our purposes, Wikipedia will be more than enough of an authority.

And I quote: 'Some Dispensationalist Premillennialists (including many Evangelicals) hold the return of Christ to be two distinct events or one second coming in two stages. 1 Thessalonians 4:15-17 is seen to be a preliminary event to the return described in Matthew 24:29-31. Although both describe a return of Jesus, these are seen to be separated in time by more than a brief period. The first event may or may not be seen (which is not a primary issue), and is called the rapture, when the saved are to be 'caught up,' from whence the term rapture is taken. The 'second coming' is the public event when Christ's presence is prophesied to be clearly seen as he returns to end a battle staged at Armageddon...'(my parentheses)

So here's my point. All over twitter and throughout the internet people are joking about this Rapture. These people who're getting so much mileage out of this are clearly not in the crowd who're going to be 'caught up' and carried off. It's the doubters among us who're going to be sitting round and not seeing anything.

What sort of tea do we need for just this sort of event? Here's my scenario: I brew up a pot of my darkest Assam, and go sit on my terrace. Looking out over the sky above Munich (with the Olympic Tower in the distance) nothing happens. At least nothing as far as I can see.

I read somewhere that the optimum place for those who really believe this is happening is on a mountain in the French Alps. The citizens and authorities of the nearest village are purportedly less than impressed with the pilgrims who're making their way to this mountain. While they're being carried off, I'll be sipping my Assam on my terrace.

See you on the other side.

*sip*

Drinking very masculine Java tea

Have had a lot of tea grown on the Pasir Nangka tea estate in Java lately.

Wrote about Java Santosa last year (Startles me awake), and I still like tea from this region. This one might even be better than the earlier one. Maybe.

This one is strong like a good Assam, but not a lot of tannic acid. So it's not at all bitter. That's why I like to use Java tea in blends of black teas. There's something fruity and spicy in the taste as well.

Did a bit of research about tea from this region, and what I learned is that they started out planting tea plants from China here in Indonesia. For some reason, they switched to tea plants from Assam at some point.

Am rather curious why tea grown from the same plant, but grown in an entirely different region, has such a dramatic difference in taste. Any thoughts on that one?

when my kettle failed me

Went to sleep dreaming about the black tea blend I made last night. Inspired by all the concoctions Robert over at @The_Devotea has been hawking on tea trade, I blended a simple Ceylon and an overly malty Assam. I'll go into more detail on all that another time. The point is that I'd mixed the teas, and fallen asleep thinking that it was going to make for a good train journey.

Like most days, I set my alarm just early enough to heat my flask, brew a pot, pour it in the warm flask with just enough extra tea left over for a quick cup as I'm heading out the door. All of that was fine, but something was conspiring against me. As I filled the electric kettle, and flipped its switch, nothing happened. Nothing at all. The kettle was dead.

Any other day, I'd just heat up water in a pot. If the electricity was out, I could start a fire on the terrace. Fire prevention be damned. But there was no time. My train ticket was non-refundable. And as important as having my tea along for the ride, I had to be reasonable.

Packed my tea blend and was on my way. Made the train in the last second before the whistle blew and we pulled out of the station. There was bagged tea offered in the restaurant car, but I'd had it before. It really was a crime against tea. My anticipation had been so utterly destroyed that I even turned down the coffee. Maybe I could sleep until we reached our destination. No luck. I stared out the window while the countryside rolled by. The beautiful blossoming springtime was lost on me. It was a black day in my heart.

But there was still hope. If I hurried to my appointment, I'd be able to scrounge up a teapot, and brew some of my blend before everyone arrived. But I guess it wasn't to be. I got there early enough. I asked one of my colleagues if she knew where a pot was, and she assured me she'd try. There was coffee, but remember Germany is primarily a coffee-drinking culture. Well, at least southern Germany is. This'd never happen in Bremen or Hamburg.

The meeting started. I was there to give a presentation. I couldn't announce that because of my lack of tea there'd be no power point. Could I? No, I couldn't. Somehow, I went into a fugue state and did my job. It wasn't pretty, but there've been worse moments in Western Civilisation. Not many. But I persevered.

After the visiting clients left, I collapsed onto the floor. At this point, I needed some tea. Seriously. Maybe there'd be relief at some shop or cafe near the train station before my trip home. At the magazine shop next to the track, they apologised that they had no hot water. The woman behind the counter suggested some Iced Tea in the nearby refrigerator. I assured her that whatever was in those containers, they had little or nothing to do with tea. She met my crazed glare with complete and utter incomprehension.

I was babbling incoherently as I stumbled over to my waiting train. The lights around me were getting blurrier as we started moving. Practically hallucinating, my thoughts turned to whether anyone in my building might lend me their kettle. Or was there a place I could still get even a cup of tea before I had to make my way home. Clearly I was a mess.

Somehow, I found my keys and let myself in before any of the neighbours saw me in this state. I looked around the kitchen in a daze, and saw my useless, wretched kettle staring back at me. At this point, I had time to heat water in a pot, but I became more and more incensed at this seemingly innocuous appliance that I'd always taken for granted. So smug and content he was. Knowing that he held the power to ruin my day so completely.

I started to imagine the horrible ways I could destroy the kettle. The humiliations I could subject him to. Dangling him from a bridge. Letting go and watching him smashed to pieces by the rush of passing traffic. Cackling uncontrollably, I found myself weeping and muttering obscenities that I'd rather not repeat.

It was only then I noticed...wait...

The night before I'd tidied up behind the toaster and had to unplug everything. My kettle was still sitting there full of the water I'd poured in in the predawn morning. I carefully fit the cord back in the outlet and turned the kettle on. The red light burned brightly, and for the first time in hours I took a deep breath. Soon there was that reassuring gurgling sound and I was fumbling through my bag for the package of tea I'd waited all day for.

Looking sheepishly over at my beloved kettle, I heard the water start to boil. Soon enough the tea was in the pot, the water was poured and I was somehow calmed. Hadn't yet had any tea, but my body was soothed at the very thought of it.

I heard my voice ask the kettle, 'You know I was kidding about dropping you off of a bridge, right?'

No answer. Not a word.

As I poured my tea, I felt an uncomfortable stillness between us. It actually made me very nervous. It's just a kettle, I told myself as my heart rate slowed and the tea warmed my extremities. At that point, I assured myself that everything was going to be ok.

But still...I unplugged that damned kettle before I went to bed. You never know if he'd come for me in my sleep.

from a humble tea company

The last few mornings have started with an Assam Sephinjuri, which I adore. I wrote about this tea here last year, before I very lightly mentioned the issue of fair-trade and sustainability.

My tea supplier in Hamburg says this is an ideal tea for the morning. I've certainly been following his advice. Every morning, as I said. No idea why I like this tea so much. It's not nearly as expensive as an Assam from Mangalam or Hatamari, but there's something simple about it that really pleases me.

Says it's a first flush as well. Had no idea Assam was divided into categories of flushes like Darjeeling, but why not.

Did a rudimentary search to see what I could find out about this region of tea growing in Assam, and I found about Camellia Plc, which started out as The Sephinjuri Bheel Tea Company Limited. I'm certainly not doing any advertising for this company (I don't know any more about them than what they say on their website), but I do like the idea of a modern company involved in many things that started out as a tea company.

But now that I look at it in a bit more detail, they're involved in Agriculture & Horticulture; Engineering & Manufacturing; Food Storage & Distribution; as well as Private Banking & Financial Services. Goodness...that's quite a variety of things, eh?

Wonder what the founders of the tea company would think if they saw all of that today. They'd likely be very proud.

Waking up in Mangalam

Ordered a selection of Ceylon and Assam tea that I started my blog with last year. I want to see how my tastes have changed, and find out specifically what I still like about these very traditional black teas. Am also excited to exhibit some of the research skills that I've honed in the last year.

The first tea I'd like to reintroduce is Assam Mangalam. This is an excellent Assam with plenty of golden tips. Although it has a typical malty taste, this tea is absolutely not bitter.

Everything I read about the estate is incredibly laudatory. I plan to dig deeper and find out more about its history. No matter how much I enjoy learning about green and Oolong, there's nothing better to start my day than a strong cup of Assam.

So I'm imagining where these tea leaves were grown. The care that was put into growing and processing them. A part of me is falling asleep tonight wondering what it'd be like to wake up on the tea estate. I'm already there in my dreams. Put on your seat belts...this is going to be an eventful ride.

luring them over to the leaf side

Seems most teablogs are in some ways similar. To a degree at least. There's a mix of tea tasting notes, and pictures of leaves, plants and entire fields of tea depending on the blog you go to. There seems to be a mix of both scientific, empirical data and more personalized impressions of tea drinking and customs.

Although I attempt to include things here that are to be expected in a typical teablog, I enjoy doing things that one wouldn't necessarily expect to find on a teablog. It's been a while since I purposely talked about tea in relation to topics that reasonable people should make every attempt to avoid, such as religion, sex or politics. But there was a time when I made every attempt to touch on these sorts of subjects. Not to offend. Maybe just to see what I could get away with.

Another way that I've set myself apart is to focus on attracting new people over to the leaf side. Whether describing tea basics here on the blog or slowly introducing people in real life to more and better tea, I really get excited when I can make tea drinking more enticing to someone who has little or no experience with loose-leaf tea.

Whether it's a client or a friend, I take every opportunity to serve tea. Maybe the first time someone's visiting, I'll offer a choice of beverages. If they show any interest in tea whatsoever, then I'll regularly serve it from then on.


My friend Jarrod comes over regularly to play music, and he seems open to try just about anything. He was here for the Darjeeling tea tasting I did a few months ago, and each time he's here his taste is stretched just a bit more. He drinks his coffee black, so I started off with a malty Assam and then a smoky Yunnan. But after he seemed to like the more delicate teas at the tasting, I started branching out even more. We've worked our way through some highly oxidised Oolongs, and he's already able to distinguish some very subtle flavours.



Here's Monique & Jarrod way back then, and I'm sure you'll hear more about my experiments with serving him tea in the future. You can't wait can you. Maybe he's just being polite by trying all of this tea. In that case, I'll make it my challenge to find something he dislikes so much it over-rides his manners.

the Indian Princess Camellia

There are two places that the Camellia sinensis plant occurred in the wild: China and India (Darjeeling is an entirely different strain, and I don't know where it came from). Just read a few pages from Pratt's Tea Lover's Treasury, and he talks at length about the trials and tribulations of developing the Assam strain of tea until it was viable. One of the things they did was to try to make a hybrid of the two strains, but with horrible results. On page 89, he includes a passage from the 'fanciful' J. M. Scott which describes this unfortunate chapter in the history of tea:


You have read the romantic story of how the Indian Princess Camellia (her other name as yet unknown) was found blushing, unscientifically recognized, in the wild jungles of Assam, of how emissaries went forth and searched through China for a prince of the highest lineage who would share her modest realm and thus raise her in the eyes of the world. Prince after prince languished after leaving China, died and had to be replaced. But the ultimate survivors perked up most surprisingly and impregnated all the native plants within reach. There is no cure for hybridization except extermination. And the experts are now convinced that the simple Indian plant was of much the better class. The Chinese princeling, no good away from home, weakened her pure, strong blood. She could travel, but not he. The couple will certainly live happily ever after in their vegetable way. No one can stop them. But those financially interested continue even now to describe this marriage arranged with such difficulty and final triumph as the curse of the Tea Industry.

Now this is something I'd never heard of. This attempt to make a hybrid of the two strains of tea. And is it true that Chinese tea strains don't travel well? I find that hard to believe. Of the up and coming tea plantations in the New World, haven't any successfully grown strains of Chinese/Japanese green teas?

But I do like the idea of telling the story as if the strains of tea were different royal families. Very nice.

I've said it before that it seems like most tea fanatics are more obsessed with Chinese/Japanese teas. Sometimes I think that's for sometime in my future. I drink a lot of green teas, but something still intrigues me about Indian black teas. At some point I might graduate from this obsession, but I hope it doesn't happen anytime soon.

tea that needs no marketing

Blending teas isn't some sort of alchemy or anything. Blending is a nice name for mixing. Calling it blending might be good for marketing, but it's really quite simple.

It seems most tea people I know are fanatic about green and Oolong teas. They might drink black tea occasionally, but some have admitted to me in confidence that they really don't like black tea. I'm the opposite. I like green tea as well as black, but certainly not more.

I've mentioned this before, but this seems to be the obstacle to enjoying a good Assam for most people: the tannins. That musky, tart taste you get all the way down your throat when you drink it (but especially on the backside of your tongue) is what makes Assam unappetising for so many. But that's easy enough to deal with. You simply mix a tea with a high tannin content with one that is milder. Problem solved, yeah? Not quite.

Some others like (dare I say love) that tart slightly bitter taste. The objective for me when I blend these teas is to keep a bit of the bite but to temper it enough that a non-Assam drinker can enjoy it. That's where the milder Assams come in.

Before I get wrapped up in China blacks and Ceylons, I try to stay at least near the Assam family. Lately I've been using an Indonesian tea that is strong like an Assam but not malty. It blends beautifully to temper the natural qualities of a strong Assam.

When you're buying loose-leaf Assam, this is what you should look for. It's all about the colour of the tips of the leaves. Unlike many good Ceylons, which can be dark dark brown and have no other shades or colours, the Assams I like have light yellow or even red tips. I've had good ones that didn't-that were only deep dark brown. But that seems the exception rather than the rule.

Right now, I'm using Assam Khongea a lot to soften my stronger Assams. Hajua is good for this, too. Please, if you don't like malty, strong teas, don't spend too long here in this neighbourhood. Ceylons or Darjeelings are probably more your style.

Going to Darjeeling in my mind

‘The name Darjeeling came from the Tibetan words, dorje (thunderbolt) and ling (place or land), means the land of the thunderbolt’ (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Darjeeling_district).


When I started this blog, I wrote a post about wanting to go to the Nuwara plantations in the mountains in Sri Lanka to see where one of the nicest Ceylons is grown. It was still the dead of winter, and I looked out at the Bavarian snow-covered rooftops. I imagined a nice, cool summer day in the Sri Lankan mountains, where maybe it was warm in the daytime but cool at night. So now my dream is to go to the Darjeeling or Assam region of India. But because I’m getting more and more into Darjeeling tea, I’ll start there.

I’ve been poring over travel guides/websites while I pour my tea. Haven’t yet been to India. Over the years, I’ve tried to plan the perfect first journey to the subcontinent. It’s all a bit daunting. Honestly? I don’t even know where I’d want to go first. Someone told me I should definitely start in Mumbai the first time around just to get acclimated. Doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

The things most often associated with Darjeeling are the world-renowned tea and Tenzing Norgay (Sir Edmund Hillary’s Sherpa). All over the region, you’ll find references to Tenzing. From shop signs that use his name to attract your business to people naming their children after this historically important man.

Read an article in the FAZ about Darjeeling, and now I’ve decided I’m going there. As soon as possible.

Assam Mangalam

Some people shy away from black tea because it can be really dark and strong. As soon as I say that, I know that of course there are many others who only drink black tea. This post isn’t for them. I’d like to make a recommendation for those people who don’t normally drink black. Think you’ll like this one.

You have to prepare it correctly (boiling hot water and preheat your pot, too) and not let it steep too long, but Assam Mangalam is really something special. All the blurbs I’ve read about it say that this high-end tea has golden red or yellow tips and if you can look at the leaves when you buy your tea make sure you see color on the tips of some of the leaves.

The other thing I read repeatedly is that it has a rich, malty flavor and sometimes a very light aftertaste. I didn’t taste it right after it steeped but as the tea cools, I can detect it. But only a little bit. Oh, one other small thing. From more than one source, I found out that this is a black tea that’s better prepared without milk. Try it.