Description of Ceylon picking and firing from 1888

Some more of my digging through antique ephemera produced this, from an 1888 edition of Good Housekeeping magazine (the second sentence of which and others are of interest to those who were piqued by my previous post about tea adulteration) ...

CEYLON TEA

Tea is getting to be a great product of Ceylon and the export is already 10 million pounds. It is claimed in behalf of this tea that it is cleaner than Chinese or Japanese tea, which is manipulated and adulterated until its quality is considerably deteriorated. In Ceylon, coolies pick the tea leaves, which are spread on trays to wither under cover for about a day. The withered leaf is then placed in a rolling machine, driven by power, and rolled for an hour, and during the process the leaves become a moist and twisted mass, out of which the expressed juice freely rolls. The leaves are then placed in trays to ferment or oxydize, during which process they change from a green to a copper color. The subsequent flavor and strength of the tea depend, to a great extent, on the fermentation, which is a chemical process, the success of which is due to the weather.

Firing is the next process. The tea is thinly spread on trays and placed either on charcoal stoves or in large iron drying machines, and at the end of half an hour it is thoroughly crisp and dried and has become tea. The tea is then sized by being passed through sieves of different mesh, giving the varieties of Broken Pekoe, Pekoe, Souchong, Congou and Dust. The first mentioned, which consists chiefly of the opening bud of the leaf, gives the strongest tea; so strong that the other teas are mixed with it. The tea is again slightly fired to drive off any suspicion of moisture, and packed while warm in lead lined boxes.

Ceylon tea may now be bought in the American market. It is extolled for its strength and flavor, and it is said that two pounds of it will go farther than three pounds of Chinese or Japanese tea. It is said to have a fragrance that is peculiarly its own.

Tuesday tea tunes: Oh, tea boy...!

Desperate for a cup of tea during a meeting last week, I made do with Lipton and styrofoam. Alas, it was not brought to me by the "Lipton Service Boy" a la this blippy, almost 8-bit instrumental from Eero Johannes ...

The rainbow connection to tea flavors

Something that's been the subject of our local tea meetup lately: the aroma wheel. Introduced in a recent discussion at Adagio Teas, the aroma wheel is a staple of oenophiles — a set of concentric adjectives that help you get at just what flavor you're trying to describe. In the center are broader terms (woody, nutty, fruity, floral), surrounded by a middle ring of more detailed terms (woody leads to resinous, phenolic and burned), surrounded by a larger rim of even more precise adjectives.

At the Nada teahouse this weekend, for instance, we were given samples of their buckwheat tea. Many of us followed the wheel through "woody" toward the "burnt toast," "coffee" and "oak" flavors. "Tea masquerading as coffee," someone said.

Some of the terms make sense in the world of wine but seem strange in the teahouse — microbiological, sweaty, horsey, asparagus, banana — but it's still a helpful kickstart for those of us, even writers, occasionally flailing for the precise word. I myself, unfortunately, have had a "wet dog" tea.

Download a copy of the wheel here.

(Thanks, Fatenah!)

Our Nada: A clean, well-lighted place

Splendid new teahouse discovery, via the Chicago Tea Lovers Meetup group!

Nada Tea & Coffee House is one of those places I've been meaning to visit for a couple of years, and the Meetup group finally gave me the excuse/opportunity to head in that direction. What a splendid afternoon we had — not just because we were chatty and warm as the wind howled and the snow swirled outside. Nada's the real deal, a narrow spot neatly paneled in bamboo (the place is smoothly designed by renowned architect Douglas Garofalo) and offering a fine menu of Japanese teas and some food.

What grabbed me right away was when I saw co-owner Hiro behind the counter whipping up a bowl of matcha. No matcha-flavored beverages, no pre-made matcha — just quality powder frothed with a bamboo whisk by a well-trained fellow from Japan. Hallelujah. They offer a few twists on this preparation, too — in a mug with whipped cream, Matcha Viennese, etc. — but nothing outlandish.



Tea samplers presented some simple, quality teas, and I had a superb hojicha, which was a perfect mate to the Oyakodon rice bowl. Others enjoyed some wonderful looking traditional soups, with plump udon noodles, and sandwiches. I took home a couple of scones: meh.

The joy of the place was in its simplicity and quality. It's just a good teahouse. The name says "tea & coffee," but I can't imagine who'd come in here for coffee.

"Nada," by the way, does not mean "nothing" here as it does in Spanish, we learned (so forgive my Hemingway allusion in the title of this post). The teahouse is named for a district in the city of Kobe famous for its sake.

Have tea with Prince William and Kate Middleton

If you're counting the days till the royal wedding, you know there's been plenty of tea-related merchandising around the event. I couldn't help but share these Prince William and Kate greetings cards — which come with tea bags, showing the caricatured couple reclining on the rim of your tea cup — available here ...

Tuesday tea tunes: Take tea

After winning a BRIT award for best British group as a member of the re-formed Take That earlier this month, singer Robbie Williams told reporters, "I can't wait to get back to the flat, hug the wife and have a cup of tea and biscuits." Sounds like a celebration.

Here's one of his solo songs, "Coffee, Tea and Sympathy" ...

Tea on 'Saturday Night Live': 'Pinkies up!'

The formula for sketch comedy on "Saturday Night Live" is: one joke multiplied by however many times it can be repeated within the time allowed. This one from a few weeks ago at least made me chuckle most times ...

Teabagging goes mega with world record

These presenters are just dreadful, but their presentation is amusing: It's the world's largest tea bag! Six feet tall, certified and big enough to drop into, say, a dunk tank fit for a David Letterman sponge suit. Why a show on a cable network dedicated to all things gaming decided to go for the world record on tea bags is unclear, but hey ...

(Thanks, Bobby!)

Tuesday tea tunes: Baby, I love your way

A pleasant instrumental from Peter "Talky Guitar Thing" Frampton, "My Cup of Tea" ...

Ready for a close-up

The camera on these new iPhone4s is really good, so here's a little tea porn from yesterday's lazy day drinking pu-erh with one of my favorite, simple yixing pots ...

Mystery meat and fake tea

The recent class-action lawsuit filed against Taco Bell, claiming that its "seasoned ground beef" doesn't contain enough beef (in addition to all the soy fillers, etc.) to actually be labeled beef, reminded me of the similarly shady history of tea's actual ingredients. Many tea histories I've read contain frightening but usually colorful accounts of the various ingenious, fiendish ways businessfolk have either stretched a meager supply of tea into a greater amount with additives or simply faked the product altogether.

Sometimes, used tea leaves were simply resold as new. Servants around Britain could earn a few extra pence by selling the contents of their masters' cold tea pots to firms that would dry them on hotplates and repackage them for sale. The 10th edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica, from 1902, reports that "according to Mr Phillips, of the Inland Revenue Office, there were in London alone, in 1843, as many as eight manufactories in which the exhausted leaves, obtained from hotels, coffee-houses, and elsewhere, were redried, and [adulterated] with rose-pink and blacklead, in imitation of genuine tea."

If no actual tea was around, some unscrupulous profiteers simply chopped up the leaves of whatever was available and labeled it tea. Roy Moxham, in Tea: Addiction, Exploitation and Empire, lists the impostors:

The favourite leaves used for adulteration were hawthorn for green teas and sloe for black teas; but birch, ash and elder were also used. Of course, the leaves of these trees did not make a convincing liquor, so it was necessary to add various colouring agents. In addition to the terra japonica [tannin from the acacia tree], additives included verdigris, ferrous sulphate, Prussian blue, Dutch pink, copper carbonate, even sheep's dung. Of these, sheep's dung was probably the least harmful.

An 1820 document, Treatise on Adulterations of Food and Culinary Poisons by German chemist Frederick Accum, contains a record of dozens of prosecutions and convictions for these crimes, based on a law passed by Parliament in 1725 specifically against the adulteration of tea. (The U.S. Congress got around to this in 1883.) One such case against a Mr. Palmer, who was busted with "a quantity of sloe leaves and white-thorn leaves, fabricated into an imitation of tea," discusses how the man and his associates would gather leaves from trees and bushes around town — "at the moment [victims] were supposing they were drinking a pleasant and nutritious beverage, they were, in fact, in all probability, drinking the produce of the hedges round the metropolis" — and then treat them with an "article used in producing the appearance of the fine green bloom observable on the China tea [but] was, however, decidedly a dead poison!"

The British, incidentally, started out drinking mostly green tea. They wound up as lovers of black tea (which took milk and sugar better) — and Moxham suggests the specter of lethal additives was the cause for the change in tastes: "The publicity given to the adulteration of tea, and the understandable public concern about the use of poisonous copper dyes in green teas, in particular, seems to have brought about the shift in consumption from green to black teas.

These are historical examples. I still see headlines in online searches sometimes about present-day adulteration incidents, mostly from India, and in the last couple of years there was an obvious effort to educate Indians about detecting adulterated tea and other foods (here's a lil' animated movie about it).

Tuesday tea tunes: Spooning

Whew, sorry I've been AWOL this week. I got distracted by some crazy assignments — a dreadful Beatles tribute show, the Justin Bieber movie, the Grammys (my Super Bowl). I'm back to earth a bit now. Today I made some tea and listened to music for pleasure, a rare treat, and turned to a favorite record, "Putting the Days to Bed" by the Long Winters. I've tried to post this before, but now I've finally found an embed on YouTube — it's their tuneful (if not directly tea-related) "Teaspoon" ...

Tuesday tea tunes: Culture Clash

Man, the Clash has some strange legacies. Here's Big Audio Dynamite II and its synthesized, odd little operetta, "The Tea Party":

Starbucks new Trenta size makes for big gulp

I drink a lot of tea throughout the day, so perhaps I shouldn't snicker at this. But Starbucks is rolling out its new beverage size, and it gives new meaning to the concept of a big gulp. Previously, Starbucks has offered coffee and tea in cups designated, in order from smallest to largest, Tall, Grande, Venti. They've now added Trenta, a whopping 31-oz. cup. How big is that? Bigger than the capacity of the human stomach, for one, and big enough to contain an entire bottle of wine, with room for cream ...



Hot beverages are not offered in this size, but a lemon-flavored iced tea is included among the selections. As a Southern native, I can tell you: It's a legal requirement below the Mason-Dixon to serve iced tea in cups at least this big.

Happy Year of the Rabbit!

Chinese New Year starts today — the Year of the Rabbit (specifically, a metal rabbit this year), which is allegedly calm and more peaceful. Yeah, bring that. The dancers above performed today in Bangkok, balancing teacups on their heads. Celebrate by trying that at home, making this yummy new year cake, or by watching videos of bunnies eating things.

Also, dig this cool rabbit-calendar tea towel!

12-step program for tea addicts

Laura Childs' next tea-shop mystery novel, Scones and Bones, is out next month. (Love these. Interviewed her last year.) I'm reading an early copy now, and I have to share this sweet bit of corn from early in the book:

"Thanks to you," said Brooke, "I think I've turned into a complete tea addict."
"There's a twelve-step program for that, you know," said Theodosia.
Brooke looked surprised. "There is?"
"Never be more than twelve steps away from your tea kettle," said Theodosia.

Ba dum bum.

Darjeeling in Des Moines? This is getting good

This is a photo, believe it or not, of an epiphany. We write our little tea blogs and we hang out with tea people and we get on a first-name basis at a shop or two or ten. Like any niche, it's easy to forget this isn't really a treehouse, a club, a benefit exclusive to those of us with even a smidge of knowledge, feigned or hard-earned. But here I was, in a really nice tea shop in, of all places, Des Moines. This guy — in the sweatshirt for his drywall business, complete with Christian fish logo — flips through the menu with his wife and talks brewing temperatures with the gal behind the counter. I expected only Lipton bags during my first of many future visits to this town (relocated relatives), certainly not a great shop with what looks to be finely sourced teas sought after by burly Iowans in caulk-covered boots. I stood there for a moment and realized just how widely tea must be getting around, that the marketing articles aren't just being optimistic. They've even opened a Teavana or two in my Oklahoma home town. It made me really happy, and really excited.

The shop, Gong Fu Tea, has been in Des Moines' East Village neighborhood for more than six years, no less. A few minimalist tables up front, a nice long service counter in the middle, and some teaware and tasting tables in the back where customers can schedule gaiwan and gongfu services. This display of tea jars runs along the wall ...



The owners, Mike Feller and Rusty Bishop, have sourced some good teas, available online (they also have a monthly tea club). I left with several, including a pretty marvelous hojicha — golden-brown and toasty and awesome with some noodles and peanut sauce earlier this week. (Feller contributed comments to this story in a recent Des Moines Register.)

Great tea is almost everywhere! Long live the cha!

Tuesday tea tunes: 'Tea in Chicago'

This blogger is based in Chicago, as some of you might be weary of hearing. But allow me one more choice moment of boosterism. I was thrilled to find that the divine and feline Eartha Kitt once recorded a tune called "Tea in Chicago." It's a demure, slightly coy description of that moment when you know you've made it — when you're "such a lady" sipping tea in Chi town:

Tea in Chicago
what an elegant place for tea
Me in Chicago
stirring up quite a cup, I'll be

I can't find anything embeddable, nor can I even find a complete copy of the track to link to, but here's a sample that includes the chorus, and here's another sample with some of the early verse.

Tasting teas 'exported' from China, India shops

I haven't been to the tea lands yet, but my friends have. In fact, somehow I stumbled into this tea karma: I have one friend who makes semi-regular excursions to India, and another who travels occasionally all over China. Both recently sent me some teas they bought in each locale. Here's a run-down of a few wonderful teas we Yanks don't get to taste that often:

China

First, there's Brad. Good ol' Brad. I could tell you some stories about Brad. I'll keep it to this pertinent one, however. In fact, I'll let him tell it. He wrote:

I was in Beijing and went to an official Tea Store run by the government. It was a great experience, albeit a sales call. They went through a bunch of teas, how to make it and how to drink it as well as their "health benefits." I love the fermented ginseng oolong. Probably my favorite. ... They also had a great story on how the lychee tea was developed for a "princess" in Beijing. She loved lychees and the emperor would have them carted in fresh from the south everyday. But in the winter she couldn't get them, so the scientists of the time figure out how to ferment the lychee juice with tea so she could still enjoy the flavor, stay happy and in turn keep the emperor happy. All in all, I probably tried 8 different teas over a couple hours with a good story on each of them.

The ginseng oolong he mentions is one strange tea. It looks like the droppings of a rodent that lives on a diet of very green grass. Each leaf seems rolled up and fermented on its own, resulting in dusky green pellets. Pouring a spoonful into the pot sounds like you're adding kibble for the dog. As they steep, they don't unravel. They make a nice light-green brew with a dry, dusty scent, but they remain little pellets at the bottom of the pot.

Flavorwise, the ginseng oolong gets even weirder — but not unpleasant. It's naturally sweet — very sweet — with a round, herbal taste, not unlike chamomile. I only found the ginseng in the scent, though the tea seems fairly energizing. A wild one.

The lychee black he sent is another eye-opener. The rosy scent of the lychee fruit charges out of the pot and cup; I mean, it really comes after you. It's perfumey, like Tea Rose, though despite its bold introduction it doesn't hog the cup. The black tea has its own brass, presenting flavors of raisins and rose hips. A beautiful caramel color, too.

India

Denise, Denise, sender of postcards, inhaler of grapes. Denise spent a year in India some time ago doing mission work — the real kind, the get down into amazing levels of poverty kind — and goes back once in a while. Dolly's Tea Shop is something of a word-of-mouth institution in Calcutta, an apparently splendid shop overseen by Dolly Roy, a woman who knows a lot about tea. (Read about her here and here.)

Some of Denise's photos from Dolly's ...





Denise sent more of Dolly's delicious Darjeelings, including a "Muscatel Clonal" that's pretty superb. This time of year, I'm hardly ever drinking the champagne of teas, and its trademark musk is a rushing sense memory.

The real surprise was a shiny, silver mylar bag makred from Balmer Lawrie & Co., with a label that read only, "Contents: Tea." The company's website makes it sound like a dreadful, gigantic government food factory. The tea, though, might be my favorite of this particular batch. It smells exactly like ... fresh peanut butter! The brew is a walnut color, the flavor is a little nutty; it's got a tang to it, like a Darjeeling. Whatever the style or blend, it's crazy tasty.

Soft yielding minds sipping elemental tea

For when the Fair in all her pride expire,
To their first elements their souls retire:
The sprites of fiery termagants in flame
Mount up, and take a Salamander's name.
Soft yielding minds to water glide away,
And sip, with Nymphs, their elemental tea.
— Alexander Pope, "The Rape of the Lock"