I've been easing off on daily blogposts for a reason. For the next several weeks I'll be in Greece, and I'm not yet sure how reliable the internet access will be.
One of the things I like to do when I travel is to visit tea shops/salons and report on what I've found. Maybe you'll never be looking for a tea shop in Hamburg or Athens, but who know? But then again, possibly you will. I've already located at least one shop in the latter. We'll see if I happen upon any more.
But as long as I have at least intermittent internet access, it doesn't matter where one is in the world. I've packed my Pratt in case I want to dip into it for something to expand upon.
One of the things I've discovered since I started getting more into tea: there's much more of a tea culture out there than I recognised. One of the cities I love most is Vienna, and until my trip this summer I only thought of it in relation to coffee. Quite unexpectedly, there are some really interesting shops in Austria's capitol.
Maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised by the birthplace of modernity.
Showing posts with label James Norwood Pratt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label James Norwood Pratt. Show all posts
Sunday, 12 September 2010
Friday, 13 August 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, 27 July 2010
If the Chinese wouldn't drink it
Lately there's been a bit of talk about Earl Grey among friends on twitter, and I've mentioned here a few times that I see this blend as a gateway tea. Something many people start out drinking, but eventually the Bergamot oil becomes intolerable, and they find other (less perfumed) teas.
As much as we tea people seem to have lukewarm to even virulent aversion to this tea, it seems to be ever present in any shop I go into. Supposedly, it's one of the best selling teas on the market. Looked it up in Pratt's The Tea Lover's Treasury, and he was kinder about this subject than many of us are. Not much kinder, but kinder nonetheless. Here's what he says on the subject:
To me, however, the real mystery about Earl Grey is why everyone seems to like it. Not that I actively dislike the stuff, mind you-it has its place and gives its pleasure too-but I find it exactly analogous to Lancer's Crackling Rose wine from Portugal: Nice enough now and then but how'd it get to be the best-selling imported wine in America? That's the same status Earl Grey enjoys among specialty teas...(p.125).
Then he goes on to say that if one uses too much Bergamot oil, the tea can easily make it taste of 'cheap perfumed soap and the ability to anaesthetize the roof of your mouth and the back of your throat'. Sounds delightful, right? He does say that if you get the balance of tea to oil right it can produce a 'well-mannered, mild-flavored tea with a very distinctive, yet delicate scent.'
Not everyone moves on to non-perfumed teas. This stuff sells really well in parts of the world. I did find it funny that Pratt explains the history of the blend, and concedes that although the Chinese introduced the Earl of Grey to the recipe but that they themselves were never, in fact, Earl Grey drinkers themselves. I think if I were in his position and they offered me the possibility to drink this mix of black teas soaked in Bergamot oil that they themselves wanted nothing to do with, I'd probably have passed.
If the Chinese wouldn't drink it, that must've said something.
As much as we tea people seem to have lukewarm to even virulent aversion to this tea, it seems to be ever present in any shop I go into. Supposedly, it's one of the best selling teas on the market. Looked it up in Pratt's The Tea Lover's Treasury, and he was kinder about this subject than many of us are. Not much kinder, but kinder nonetheless. Here's what he says on the subject:
To me, however, the real mystery about Earl Grey is why everyone seems to like it. Not that I actively dislike the stuff, mind you-it has its place and gives its pleasure too-but I find it exactly analogous to Lancer's Crackling Rose wine from Portugal: Nice enough now and then but how'd it get to be the best-selling imported wine in America? That's the same status Earl Grey enjoys among specialty teas...(p.125).
Then he goes on to say that if one uses too much Bergamot oil, the tea can easily make it taste of 'cheap perfumed soap and the ability to anaesthetize the roof of your mouth and the back of your throat'. Sounds delightful, right? He does say that if you get the balance of tea to oil right it can produce a 'well-mannered, mild-flavored tea with a very distinctive, yet delicate scent.'
Not everyone moves on to non-perfumed teas. This stuff sells really well in parts of the world. I did find it funny that Pratt explains the history of the blend, and concedes that although the Chinese introduced the Earl of Grey to the recipe but that they themselves were never, in fact, Earl Grey drinkers themselves. I think if I were in his position and they offered me the possibility to drink this mix of black teas soaked in Bergamot oil that they themselves wanted nothing to do with, I'd probably have passed.
If the Chinese wouldn't drink it, that must've said something.
Tuesday, 29 June 2010
Hot tea in the scorching sunlight?
Seems like most tea people are more fascinated with green tea than black. If they had to choose, I mean. Of course this is a gross generalization, but when I go through the blogs/sites I know, it seems like the beautiful photos are of Oolongs and greens. The logical among you might say, 'Yeah, but have you looked at black tea after it's been used?' You'd be right. It just looks like refuse. Nothing like these delicate sea creatures that float in their green tea soup.
But that's my contention. Even if you like drinking black teas, and I'm not willing to believe you do, then you at least seem to be more taken with the delicate, sometimes even grassy, tastes of non-oxidized tea. Or at the bare minimum you like partially oxidized teas.
Turns out this phenomenon is nothing new. I was reading about tea drinking habits of Americans in the early 20th Century, and most people drank green tea from China. Those who drank tea, that is. The story is that because tea from China had somehow cornered the market, a group of Indian tea importers set up a stand at the St. Louis World's Fair in 1904. They decked out the people serving the tea in elaborate costumes and tried to make the black tea exotic.
To no avail. It was too damned hot in St. Louis in the summer (They really do get the worst of cold winters and hot summers, don't they?), so because no-one wanted the steaming hot brew, the guy in charge started serving it on ice. And only then the people drank it. Supposedly with pleasure. Thought that'd be a nice bit of trivia to drop on you for this sweet summer's evening (source: The Tea Lover's Treasury by James Norwood Pratt).
Although I'm not much for iced-tea myself, there you have it. But St. Louis in the burning noon-day sun. Someone offers you the chance to take the turn-of-the-century equivalent of the Nestea Plunge, and you're going to reject it?
But that's my contention. Even if you like drinking black teas, and I'm not willing to believe you do, then you at least seem to be more taken with the delicate, sometimes even grassy, tastes of non-oxidized tea. Or at the bare minimum you like partially oxidized teas.
Turns out this phenomenon is nothing new. I was reading about tea drinking habits of Americans in the early 20th Century, and most people drank green tea from China. Those who drank tea, that is. The story is that because tea from China had somehow cornered the market, a group of Indian tea importers set up a stand at the St. Louis World's Fair in 1904. They decked out the people serving the tea in elaborate costumes and tried to make the black tea exotic.
To no avail. It was too damned hot in St. Louis in the summer (They really do get the worst of cold winters and hot summers, don't they?), so because no-one wanted the steaming hot brew, the guy in charge started serving it on ice. And only then the people drank it. Supposedly with pleasure. Thought that'd be a nice bit of trivia to drop on you for this sweet summer's evening (source: The Tea Lover's Treasury by James Norwood Pratt).
Although I'm not much for iced-tea myself, there you have it. But St. Louis in the burning noon-day sun. Someone offers you the chance to take the turn-of-the-century equivalent of the Nestea Plunge, and you're going to reject it?
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