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?

thinking of an American teaseller

Although being in a little village up in the Bavarian Alps means I'm not personally visiting new teashops, the tea world gets more and more intimate partially due to the web.

Every year I say I'll do my best to make it to next year's World Tea Expo, which is wrapping up in Las Vegas, but things get in the way and I'm left promising myself that it's not the last one. I can always go there for the next one, right?

So here I am enjoying very mercurial mountain weather while browsing tea shop sites (If I can't be there in person, I can go there virtually). I've been meaning to write a glowing review of Upton Tea Imports since I had such a fantastic experience ordering from them back in the spring, but things kept getting in the way.

About that review of Upton Tea Imports? Well here it is. Everything about the ordering process was effortless, and it seemed as if the tea arrived much more quickly than was possible. But there it was. The hyper-critical among you will say, 'They're an tea seller who offers tea online. That's what they do. You order tea from them, and they send it immediately.'

Well, be that as it may. The website was easy to understand, and regardless of what some might consider service to be expected, it seemed above-average to me. I had it sent to my brother's house while I was travelling in the States, and upon my arrival my sister-in-law and I had some wonderful Pu-erh fannings, which I wrote about here: fannings aren't always teadust

With my tea the Upton Tea Quarterly was enclosed. There was a very interesting article about the history of Ceylon Tea. There's something similar, and much more brief, on the Information page of the above-mentioned website, but the in depth article seems to be only in the Quarterly itself. I'd read versions of the story in various places, but it was nice to see it compiled in such detail there on the page.

That's all I have for today. Need to get back out in the mountain air, but I wanted to mention the excellent experience I had. Were I more often in the United States, I'd definitely take advantage of this site/company more often.

Here's a photo of Bayrischzell. It's nearly as far south in Bavaria as you can go before you're in Austria.

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.

don't mention it

He says everything and he says nothing.

This is a funny saying that the Germans use when they're talking about politicians. Actually, you could use the phrase when talking about anyone who's using public relations-speak. Many words...not much actual meaning.

A client visited me this evening, and we had a wonderful time that had everything to do with tea, but simultaneously had nothing to do with tea. Nothing at all.

When I serve tea, I regularly put quite a lot of thought into what the perfect tea for that situation is. Maybe sometimes this analysis borders on the obsessive, but as far as I can see it's a victimless crime.

So I've served this client tea many times. I know she doesn't take milk, but often adds a little bit of sugar. I've been on a bit of a Ceylon kick lately, so I decided to serve one that I like a great deal.

Ceylon Nuwara 'Lover's Leap'

I've written about it at length before in a number of blogposts, but this was one I liked from last year in the dead of winter.

Normally, I save my best tea for guests, and this was no exception. But here was the thing: although the tea was appreciated and drunk with relish, there was no mention of it. It's why I say the good time had everything to do with the tea. Yet the fact that it's impact went unspoken, was almost more of a success than if a big to-do was made about it.

Either Jackie or Pete (or both) over at Leafbox Tea/Tea Trade have made the point that we needn't always obsess about the tea we're drinking it. Sometimes the best compliment one can give a great cup of tea is to simply not call attention to it.

Drinking Ceylon BOP Uva and not comprehending Cricket

Have gone back and ordered some of the black teas I was drinking when I began this blog early last year. They arrived last week, and I've been pondering how to reintroduce them. I drank a lot of Ceylon early on, and it seems fitting to spend a bit of time talking about it since the Cricket World Cup Final between Sri Lanka and India is in full swing, as it were.

Just to be very clear up front: I don't know anything about Cricket. That isn't an invitation to try and explain it to me. Many an afternoons sitting in the pub have been wasted by people trying to explain Cricket to me. It's no use. But I can certainly take advantage of the occasion to rattle on about the tea grown in Sri Lanka.

Here's how I talked about Ceylon Bop Uva way back then: BOP Uva, what a name, eh?.

So my question is what do I think of this tea now? Has my opinion changed?

When I talk about green or Oolong tea, I make photos of the beautiful leaves. I took a few photos of this BOP Uva, but it's really nondescript looking black tea. I've spent quite a bit of the afternoon reading about tea growing regions of Sri Lanka, and the most definitive thing I can say about this tea that's labeled BOP Uva, could come from any of a huge number of estates. It's not a small region at all.

What's the BOP part all about? Simply stated, BOP stands for broken orange pekoe. It's described rather well at Wikipedia, but it means that this is medium grade black tea. Rather than full leaves, they're broken into much smaller pieces. It actually looks a bit like very course ground coffee.

The leaves have a very light floral taste, and the tea itself is mildly spicy. Many sources recommend that tea from this region is good with milk. I tried it first without and then added just a bit. It was tasty either way, but the thing that made the tea interesting without milk was completely masked once milk was added.

(later)

As the day progressed, the Indians prevailed in the Cricket. When I imagine the fields of tea plants that I see in photos of Sri Lanka, I wonder if the people picking the tea even got a chance to watch the Cricket, or if they'd even want to.