Are you weird if you don’t like tea? (Tea Talk Magazine, Autumn 09)

Greetings, TeaGeeks! A friend announced the other day that she’d been keeping a secret from me: she doesn’t like tea or coffee. She’d been keeping this a secret because she was afraid it would either come between us as friends or would produce in me a desire to convert her. As much as I tried to assure her I was not upset by this revelation, it got me thinking about a question I’ve asked myself time and again: are you weird if you don’t like tea?

My thinking comes from a far from extensive piece of research I have been carrying out of late: exploring the many and varying tea cultures from across the world. It seems to me that wherever you go, there will always be some sort of culture connected to tea or similar hot beverage, and everyone will have their own experience to relate or preference to state. And so the question almost asks itself: is there something wrong when this is not the case? I have identified three factors that I think may be at work in the issue of tea appreciation (or at least have been in my own experience) and they are set out as follows:

Environment ~ Is our external environment – upbringing, society, etc. – to blame for our tastes as adults?

Quality ~ Is our appreciation of tea affected by the quality of leaf available to us?

Genes ~ Is it all just a bit too scientific?

 Aside from having parents who drank tea by the bucketload, the very fact that I grew up in the UK means that there was (in theory) quite a high probability that I would start drinking – and loving – tea from a young age. Tea is a national institution; you cannot live here for very long and not be aware of it. (Where else has tea sneakily become the word for a whole meal?) However, my brother and two sisters don’t drink it nearly as much as I do (my brother not at all) and all the people I know who don’t like hot drinks of any sort are British, and quite firmly so. Conclusion: not as close as it may appear. It seems that cultural and familial heritage both lack a definitive influence over whether a person embraces or rejects the practice of tea drinking.

 Where upbringing or culture have failed to take the credit for our tastes, maybe quality of tea will. Personally I used to be a bit of a sucker for anything vaguely hot and brown, but as my knowledge of tea has improved, so has my respect for it. And as much as people tell me they don’t like tea, something inside me always questions whether they are really talking about tea as a leaf or tea as the commonly peddled, mass produced ‘magic bag’. If my own path is anything to go by, I can’t help thinking minds would be changed along with brewing equipment… Conclusion: none. This is all purely conjecture, even though I do think I’m right.

 We come finally to the subject of genes. This is a subject that I will state from the outset I know nothing about. I am not a scientist and am far too busy drinking tea to spend my time having to use a microscope to see things. However, in layman’s (and incredibly general) terms, genetic science has taught us that below the surface every single person is wildly unique. We may follow a vague pattern of inheriting qualities and tendencies from our parents, but in the grand scheme of things we really are all different. Which leads to my point: no matter how much one is influenced by external factors, there may be something in your makeup that abhors the taste of certain foodstuffs, however objectively beautiful. Conclusion: my attempts to sound methodical and scientific were doomed from the start…

 However, one conclusion may be drawn, if a little sketchily: there is really no telling who will like tea and who won’t. Which begs the question: can you be taught to like tea? More on that next time, readers…

Tea = Magic

There’s something about tea that’s magical. I’ll always remember reading Asterix In Britain as a lad, and enjoying immensely the idea of tea being a substitute for magic potion when it came to the Britons. And indeed it has taken on, to a degree, a sort of magic potion status among those few cultures that count tea as one of their staples. Rightly or wrongly, tea will always remain for me one of the things I associate with being truly British – as essential to the Brits as magic potion was to those indomitable Gauls. But what is it about tea that we find so magical and/or essential to everyday life?

One thing I put it down to is the incredible capacity to comfort that a cup of tea affords. (Forgive me in advance if I regularly and unashamedly compare tea with coffee in these lines – it’s something of a soap-box for me, being born and bred into a culture that has been invaded by a – let’s face it – American movement of high levels of caffeine and taste vs. low levels of substance and style.) Coffee is a drink that brings short-lived warmth, perkiness and tastebud-tingling sensations to the body and then drops off quite suddenly, leaving the drinker generally unsatisfied and craving for more. Tea, on the other hand, is quite the opposite. Although both contain caffeine, tea brings with it a slow-release of comfort, satisfaction, subtlety and finesse, all neatly balanced inside your cup. I’ve never really been able to figure out why this is, but it has been the experience of generations of tea-lovers in countries and cultures across the globe. I guess you could say it’s slightly magical.

Another magical element is the actual brewing process. The whole idea of steeping leaves in water in order to bring out the best elements and leave the shell behind is something that leaves one with a real sense of occasion and ritual. Coffee (by this point I hope I am already forgiven for mentioning this other drink again) is ground down and used almost to death, squeezing all that is possible from the shell and holding the barest remnant back. Thus, as a result, one is left with a drink that not only holds desirable properties but also undesirable ones such as toxins and an unhealthy level of caffeine. It is almost reminiscent of Tolkein to talk about such things – the battle between a drink that sucks the life out of a plant for disproportionate gain and a drink that simply lets nature take its course, resulting in the perfect balance of ingredients and effects. Perhaps I’m starting to take the analogy a bit too far, but you catch my drift. Tea = natural, magical and effective brewing process; coffee = unnatural, strenuous and unattractive. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a clear winner…

A third and final element which I shall list (NB. I could go on) is the sheer scope of variety which can be – and has been – achieved. Go into any coffee house (this is the last time, promise) and you will be confronted by a board full of choices. But this isn’t actually a choice of coffee: this is a choice of preparation. The same coffee will (in most cases) be used to make that particular coffee house’s espresso, latte, cappuccino, americano, mocha, macchiato, ristretto and any other variety of preparation that I may have missed. This is not magical by any stretch of the imagination. Sure, I am being a tad unfair to the coffee aficionado here; there do exist many different types of bean, varying in region, roast and bush. But the point I am really making is that the variety offered by Coffea Arabica (the coffee plant) is not nearly as exciting as that offered by Camellia Sinensis (the tea plant). For example, the difference between the delectably mild Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee and the hard-hitting Java coffee is really not that noticeable once brewed. Whereas the difference between the deliciously warming Kenilworth Ceylon tea and the delicate, yet complex, Silver Needle white tea is – in a word – magical.

This article isn’t intended to be, in its entirety, an anti-coffee declaration. It may seem like that, but it’s not. The aim is simply to put the magical and mysterious nature of tea into context. And standing next to its nearest rival is where it shines out the most. However, it mustn’t be taken that tea is simply a battle-worn winner. There really is no competition. What we are talking about here is a drink and a culture that must – and does – stand alone and distinct from the received numbness and fast-food nature of the culture we now find ourselves in. Tea is a slow drink (even when drunk quickly) and will always remain something that is, largely, unexplained.
And that’s the beauty of it…

Japanese Tea Ceremony vs Russian Samovar (Tea Talk Magazine, Summer 09)

Greetings, Teageeks! As you will no doubt learn from reading this column, I am fascinated by the way tea has permeated every corner of the globe and has, in turn, produced many, varying tea-related cultures. And so, for this issue of Tea & Tearoom Talk, I would like to address the key differences between just two of these cultures: the Japanese Tea Ceremony and the Russian Samovar.

You may have never even heard of either of these concepts (I certainly hadn’t until a couple of years ago), so let me briefly explain what both are about…

Japanese Tea Ceremony ~ Japan was introduced to tea in the 9th century by a Bhuddist monk from China, where it had already been known, according to legend, for thousands of years. It quickly caught on and tea became a huge thing in Japan, mainly linked with the practice of Buddhism and the samurai tradition. In these areas, the tea known as matcha was the popular choice (a fine powder made from the choicest leaves and mixed with hot water to create a drinkable paste) and is still the key ingredient in the Japanese Tea Ceremony. Essentially, the tradition centres round the qualities of silence, simplicity, beauty and minimalism; and the taking of tea is accompanied by the appreciation of artwork, the simplicity of the teahouse, the sounds of the water and the fire, and the smells of incense and tea being prepared. It’s all about savouring the moment; quietly, respectfully and in awe of beauty.

Russian Samovar ~ Similarly to Japan, Russia was introduced to tea through the Chinese—sometime in the 17th century through the Chinese ambassador to Moscow. However, the Russian tradition evolved along quite a different route, becoming more of a community affair and revolving around a drink of strong black tea rather than strong green (the matcha of the Japanese Tea Ceremony). The key ingredient of the Russian tea tradition was—and still is—the samovar: a big metal kettle with a tap that keeps water hot and ready for pouring as well as keeping a little teapot full of concentrated brew (zavarka) warm on the top. The concentrated brew is poured into a cup and topped up with water from the samovar, producing a hearty, warming brew, taken at all times of the day.

At the risk of sounding overly pretentious, these traditions teach us things about tea both as a drink and as a concept. Frequent participants or students of the Japanese Tea Ceremony would have us learn about not only the beauty, simplicity and humble magic of the drink but also about how the world around us reflects those qualities too. It doesn’t stop at the ceremony: students of the tea ceremony can study the complete lifestyle, including: kimono (traditional dress), calligraphy, flower arranging, ceramics, incense and a wide range of other disciplines and traditional arts in addition to his or her school’s tea practices. In short, the study of the tea ceremony takes many years and often lasts a lifetime.

The Russian tradition also centres around sharing tea, but is more about family warmth and friendship than appreciation of art or simple surroundings. The Russians will take tea with all meals and at all times of the day, not just to keep out the cold of their northern climate but to encourage the warmth of company and enjoying conversation. It can all be summed up in the Russian expression: ‘to have a sit by samovar’, meaning to have a leisurely conversation (usually involving tea!).Both traditions, though different, are about the sharing of tea with others combined with the appreciation of the finer things in life. I think that’s what makes tea such a winner across the world: it encourages in us all the appreciation of what is around us and a contentment with what we have. Amen to that!

Black Tea (Tea Talk Magazine, Spring 09)

Greetings, Teageeks! Welcome to my world of tea appreciation. This issue, we’ll be focusing on a particular bugbear of mine: our departure as a nation from black tea. From where I’m sitting, it seems that too many people in Britain seem to be moving away from black tea as their staple tea diet. Whether it be for health reasons (green and white tea are commonly seen as the healthier options) or simply to experience something different and exotic, there is a trend these days to ditch the dark and savour the subtle. That’s fine, go ahead. However, the general trend worries me a little. It’s not so much the drinking of white and green teas that gets me pacing the room; I am more than happy for the British population to be sampling their respective delights. No, it’s the slippery slope of black tea abandonment that really gets me going. For me, black tea is what holds my geekdom together. Without black tea, I don’t think I’d be as enthusiastic as I am today about tea as a whole. So, what’s gone wrong? I’m glad you asked…

Say ‘black tea’ to the average Brit and, to be honest, they probably won’t know what you mean. However, if they do, the likelihood is that the first thing that pops into their heads is a huge carton of PG Tips or the murky stuff that plops into a flimsy plastic cup as a result of typing 52 into the machine at work. If I’m honest, this makes me a little bit teary even writing it. The truth is, the vast majority of us know nothing of the rich diversity – and indeed, beauty – of black tea. And oh! – what diversity! For instance, there’s nothing quite like holding a cup of Kenilworth Ceylon tea in your hands and taking a long, hard sniff. The stuff fairly blows me away. The raw, oaky aroma that warms the cockles and engages the senses is simply priceless. Similarly, a cup of Margaret’s Hope Darjeeling tea will get me all choked with emotion as I sniff and sip, sniff and sip. This shouldn’t be a treat reserved for only the most devoted teageek, but too often, it is. But why? And why is it that these teas really get me going far more than a Silver Tip White tea or a Japanese Sencha?

Call me a geek (please, do!), but I can’t help getting excited about discovering fascinating details in the apparently mundane. For me, this is where black tea really appeals. Where one man might be thrill-seeking with something vaguely entitled, ‘Green Tea’, I’m delving into the complex world of mild teas such as Nilgiri and Keemun, or dissecting the classic English Breakfast blend to bring out the strong, yet spectacular flavours of Assam, Ceylon and Kenya tea. And yet, it’s not all about tea-spotting, as you’ll probably be relieved to hear! No, the real fact of the matter is this: black tea tastes fantastic, and is also a really healthy brew. If you really want to treat your tastebuds, anything green or white is going to be pretty tough going. But a simple brew of loose leaf Assam tea with a dash of milk (or even slightly weaker and without the milk) can really do the trick. If you’re feeling really adventurous, you might even go for an Earl Grey or, better still, a Lapsang Souchong. Just don’t expect to get one from typing number 53…

TeaGeek! (Tea Talk Magazine, Winter 09)

Greetings, Teageeks! As this is my first column in this quality quarterly, I shall take the opportunity to introduce myself and tell a little of how I became a Teageek. The seeds of my tea fascination were sown way back when I was a wee nipper, when my mother began collecting tea caddies. She has always been a tea-lover, drinking an average of three cups a day, religiously. I guess a search for a hobby naturally ended with a realisation that collecting things she already had a few of would be a good idea. And so the culture of tea in our house became a bit of an institution, graduating from simple habit to full-on tradition. I was therefore brought up on a diet of tea (good coffee after Sunday lunch, but that was pretty much it for the Red Bull of hot drinks) and buying tea caddies for my mother’s birthday every year until I had a job to pay for more expensive presents.

However, the extent of my geekdom was not fully realised until I left university in 2003 and went back to live with my parents with a view to paying off my severe debts and gaining a more stable lifestyle. There I was reintroduced to the practice of having tea and cake every day, and it was then that I felt a sort of home-coming; not just to my parents’ house, but to the world of quality tea.

After that, the next landmark in my tea journey was meeting my now girlfriend, Lizzie Green (she will probably have many more mentions in this column, so watch this space!) when we worked at the same place in Bristol. We were almost immediately united through various commonalities, not least our love of tea. Many evenings were happily spent at her house, sipping Twinings Chai or some such concoction and gazing happily into each other’s eyes. After a while, I realised that this girl was more than just a pretty face – she was also a bonafide teageek too! Through our mutual love of the brew, we embarked on a tea adventure that has never really stopped.

Since then I have worked for two places that have really upped my knowledge and my interest: Whittard of Chelsea (everyone reading this should at least know of Whittard, and if you don’t, definitely look them up) and The Tea Box, a small independent tearoom in Richmond, London, where I now reside. I owe a lot to Whittard, namely the majority of my tea education – it was there that I learned about oolong and pu erh and all manner of other teas – and also the supply of many of their teas for my own enjoyment. The Tea Box further educated me in the art of tea and tea culture, if briefly. I now educate myself via many other avenues, and pass what I can onto any aspiring teageeks

So, that’s me. What do I hope to achieve from this column? I’m glad you asked! This is simply an attempt to get all you young tea-lovers enraptured with the magic, the mystery and the beauty of tea. I’m now 25 years old, and am more in love with tea than I have ever been. Traditionally, tea has more often than not been the territory of the middle-aged/retired/elderly and has been rarely touched by the young. But it should not be so! Tea is a vibrant, exciting and absorbing subject, and I am about to prove it to you. Stay with me, young teageeks, and we shall venture further into the jungle of tea culture and tea consumption and come out the other side not beaten down but hankering for more!

Hooray!

Welcome!

Welcome to my world of tea obsession!

Let me invite you in to my pseudo-lounge and sit you down on my virtual sofa, directing you in the direction of my pretend tea-table where you will find more tea than you will ever be able to consume. Here we will not only taste tea (we will of course do this a lot) but also talk about tea, its history, its cultures and rituals, its variation, and all sorts of other ins and outs.

I hope you will find your stay fascinating as well as thirst-quenching. I will post all articles that I write for ‘Tea Talk Magazine’ as well as others that don’t make it into those hallowed pages.

Enjoy your stay.
TeaGeek