Amen to that. And I’m glorying in tea this morning, as you can see, because my order came from The English Tea Store yesterday, and I was down to the bottom of all my tea tins–a sad state of affairs, and one that does not induce creative thought.
I apologize, by the way, for the ordinariness of my everyday teapot, when I have so many others to choose from. But it’s such a good teapot–an American (made by Typhoon) equivalent of the famous British Brown Betty, sturdy, well-shaped and well pouring, the essentials of teapot-ness. And I do use it every day, usually twice, and I brew loose tea.
Confession. Even having written a novel that was centered around tea, KISSED A SAD GOODBYE, (now available at last in Kindle) and having researched every bit of tea lore and history and having even earned a certificate as a Tea Master, I still used TEABAGS. Blush. There, I’ve said it. Because I was lazy and I hated messing about with tea strainers and saucers for the strainers. Those tea ball things always came apart in the pot, the tea strainer spoon didn’t let the tea expand, and I never found a pot with a built in strainer that worked worth a damn.
But then there came the t-sac, and I was converted. It is a do-it-yourself, disposable tea bag. How simple. How brilliant. You spoon in your loose tea, drape the sac gently into your pot, pour over your just boiled water (filtered!), swish a bit, let steep five minutes.
Perfect tea. Every time. And you’ll never use a tea bag again unless you’re desperate. The t-sacs come in three sizes, but I’ve discovered there’s no point in buying #1 or #2, as the bigger #3 works just fine in a mug or cup and is perfect for both small and large tea pots.
So this morning I’m drinking a pot of my favorite breakfast tea, Borengajuli Estate Assam. It’s hearty and malty and the loveliest deep orange color. This afternoon, a new variety of Earl Grey, Earl Grey Metropolitan Blend (sounds very sophisticated, doesn’t it?), or maybe the loose Darjeeling I haven’t yet tried.
And I do inhale, by the way. When the tea has steeped, lift the lid and breathe deeply. I didn’t grow up in a house where tea was drunk, so that heady aroma rising from the pot takes me back to my first trips to England, years ago, and pots of tea served on B&B breakfast tables. Heaven.
Now, another cup, and so to work.