Enough with all this tedious chitchat about work. Let's talk tea.
Growing up with an English mum, I've always lived with a full tea cabinet. But unlike most Brits, our mom—or "Ma," as we call her, with that long American a—drinks it weak and plain, without milk or sugar.
My earliest kitchen memory is learning how to make a cup for mom: Pour the boiling water, dunk the Lipton teabag about three or four times, toss the bag, add some cold water. As you might imagine, this horrifies all our Yorkshire kin. That's not tea.
But much like my mom's fondness for Rene Junot (terrible white plonk that she thankfully doesn't buy anymore) shaped my early perception of wine, this light-brown liquid always meant "tea." I wouldn't touch it.
My stubborn refusal lasted until college. The first day of freshman year, I made a fantastic friend named Kate. She tried fruitlessly to woo me to the tea side for months, giving me boxes of tea and sprinkling tea all over birthday presents, etc. A valiant effort, and I still love her for it. But it didn't work.
Sophomore year, I was chained to my desk during finals. I'd figured out how to avoid tests by writing endless essays, all due at once. I kept a running page tally on my door. It pretty much turned me into a lunatic for two weeks each semester. Friends knew to stay away when they heard snarling inside.
Then my buddy and hallmate Kipp managed to find himself an Earth Mother girlfriend who didn't know any of us that well. She floated by sometimes and said hi, but she's the last person I expected to knock on my door when I hit page 70 or so and my last few brain cells.
"Here," she said, handing me a steaming mug. "You need this." Best thing I'd ever tasted.
She was so right, and Kate was so right, and I was so wrong. Almost every day begins and ends with tea now. I even leave the empty mugs all over the house, just like mom (but I still won't touch Lipton—there are limits).
Put on the kettle, luv, and we'll 'ave a nice cuppa.
She's never met a country she didn't like.
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All images and text in this blog are © 2005–2018 Mia Lipman Irwin, unless otherwise indicated.
2 comments:
A chain of health delis in South Africa called Kauai (supposedly pronounced the same as Hawai)have been pushing something called chai tea. I have only had it once but it was rather nice. No idea of its origins but it is a milky spicy variation on tea. If you can find it I dare you to push the limits of your tea drinking ambitions and try it!
Mmmm...chai. That's good stuff, although I usually have to peel myself off the ceiling after too much black tea. Pretty sure it came from India originally, but we're so evolved now we can get it at Starbucks! Convenience or sacrilege...you decide.
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