Steam wafts up from my tea cup as I take in the aroma and relax more with each breath. I think those three or four inhales that I take before the first sip of my tea is almost the best part.
Tonight, I am drinking a chai blend that I bought at a fancy pants tea shop in a mall. Usually, I drink a black tea with milk in the mornings, then move to herbals in the afternoons. No matter what time of day- I can turn it into a tea time.
The fine art of drinking tea is one I learned from my mother, and have honed it over the years by drinking local teas most everywhere I visit, which, at least once got me in trouble, but usually just brings out the best in places. Growing up, one could not open the door of my mom’s microwave without encountering a cold overly brewed forgotten cup. I hesitate to admit I am too much of a snob to drink tea from the microwave, the flavor releases better when the leaves plunge into boiling water.
In China, purchasing tea is not like picking up a box in Kroger and placing it in the buggy. Procuring tea involves ceremony, and the ceremony just makes the tea experience. When we lived in Shanghai, my favorite place to buy tea was on Weifeng Lu, just outside our building. The young lady who worked there had quite good English and loved to practice her language skills. Upon arriving in the store, she would begin brewing green tea, a Chinese specialty and favorite.
Once the tea has brewed, ceremony dictates that the tea be poured over a slotted tray to and on a little clay thing to make sure the water is hot enough. Then, they ask you to inhale the brew. You breathe in the tea slowly with your eyes closed. Properly brewed, good tea will give an experience very similar to breathing in a fine red wine.
Several steps later, I would get a sip of the tea I was about to purchase. One kind of feels obligated at this point, but I loved shopping for, and later enjoying the tea.
Back in Tennessee before leaving for school in the mornings, I would fix my tea in a large coffee container, add just the right amount of milk and pay attention to the brewing time. This was a ritual as important as brushing my teeth. On those rare occasions when I drove off without my tea, it took me until third period to shake off the disappointment, and poor first and second period students had to suffer for my mistake. I would like to say that my morning cup does not determine the quality of the day, but enough evidence tells me otherwise.
My most memorable and harrowing tea experience took place after a trip to Cambodia two years ago. I enjoyed lemongrass tea in restaurants and in the hotel on the entire week-long trip. When it was time to leave, I just had to buy some tea to take back home to China. We flew through the night to get back to Shanghai, so the entire next day, I brewed lemongrass tea and enjoyed the experience to help me recover from the overnight trip. By that night, I was completely covered in hives and ended up spending two days in the hospital. Apparently, I did not buy the lemongrass from a reliable source. Lesson learned, and I still drink lemongrass tea, just not that batch.
To sum up my tea experience, I will quote a plaque my sister Joy has in her kitchen. It is one that really helps in my quest for defining resiliency. “Women are like tea bags; they don’t know how strong they are until they get into hot water.” Amen.
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